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thefanficmonster · 4 years

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You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.”

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing.

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks.

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession.

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind.

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect.

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar.

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come.

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind.

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever.

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

#corpse husband #corpse #husband #corpsehusband #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse husband fanfic #x reader #reader #fanfiction #fanfic #corpse simp #request #requests open #romance #friends to lovers #love

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kinope · 2 years

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Tw. Toxic/Abusive Home

So I don’t typically like talking about this stuff on here like this, because I know a lot of people use tumblr as an escape like me. However, I want to see if people have any suggestions or advice to offer in regards to something going on in this house. To not trigger anyone though, I’ll but the rest under the read more so that everyone can stay safe. Thanks to anyone who reads this and can offer anything.

Okay, so I’m going to try and only go into detail enough to give background for those who might be able to offer suggestions. Not because I’m worried about someone finding this and putting me in danger, but because once again trying not to be too triggering.

That being said...my house just went from bad to worse. I am not quite in a position to get out right now, I’m not looking for that at the moment. I’ve got to get a whole ton of things in order for that to be an option even...that being said. Here’s some of the rules that come into play (not all their rules but the ones that effect things enough to mention here):

- I cannot go back to college or pursue any schooling that will be more than a year long and/or more than 3 classes/15 hours a week. Which rules out pretty much any technical school. Also if i do go back they don’t provide me the information I need to get financial aid and I cannot afford anything on my own.

- I cannot get a job more than 20 hours a week. (Hence why it’s been especially hard for me to find anything.)

- I now cannot hide away in my room for more than an hour a day.

- They have to have password access to all my accounts (that they know of) and have even gone as far as to set up most of them so I can’t get in without their permission.

- They have access over my bank account (I have already set up a separate one they don’t know of)

- They are now putting limitations on my laptop and phone too where they’re randomly taking them and so on.

- They have my legal documents and medical records hidden from me.

- They have my suitcases and travel stuff hidden away from me.

So basically though they are going away for 5 days soon and I think this would be a good time to start getting things in order. As in finding where they’ve hidden my documents, records, and suitcases. I know where they hid the password book, so I can make copies of the passwords and get in to start changing the emails over to mine (I don’t want to change the passwords yet, because if they can’t get in while I’m here it could be dangerous for me. I just want to be able to access and then change everything when I can get out) while I can without them being able to walk in and see what’s happening at any time.

Note: they’re going on a cruise and didn’t pay for wifi access so as long as I use the password book to get into my mom’s email and delete any signs I changed any emails they should never get a notification or know.

I would like to know though if anyone has suggestions for things I should be cautious of while doing this and/or other things I should think about getting set up while I have a few days of not having to worry so much.

Once again I do not intend to just leave while they are gone, because to be quite honest I don’t have the means to and I’m not going to be that kind of burden to someone else right now. That being said if you really want more information on my situation or ways to help you can ask, I don’t mind sharing I just am trying not to be too triggering.

#tw toxic parents #tw toxic home #tw abuse #tw abusive parents #tw abusive home #tw toxic family

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years

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TWD 11x07: Details

All right, let's talk details for 11x07.

***As always, spoilers abound below for this episode. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Maggie’s group:

I talked about how important it was that Elijah's sister was a walker that he couldn't find her. During this first exchange in the woods, we also learn that Maggie really is out for revenge. We’ve all felt like this was the case, and there was more to her wanting to go back to Meridian than just to get food supplies. At this part, she says, "we have to get them. All of them." So, she's really probably not going to be willing to go back to Alexandria and all the reapers are dead. Clearly, that's going to cause some problems.

However, it comes from sympathy for her people and what they went through at the hands of the Reapers.

At this part, just before it shifts to the opening credits, we also see a walker with the long dark beard. Because they knew the first walker Maggie put down, Negan asks if they “also knew Blackbeard.” Pirate reference. This walker is also missing an eye, which is Sirius symbolism.

Then we see Negan teaching Maggie how to move like the Whisperers do among the walker wards. At one point, Maggie says, "This is not fun." Very close to Beth's line which was, "killing them is not supposed to be fun."

Maggie sends Gabriel to scout out Meridian. We don't know at this point what he's looking for. This is the somewhat strange part where he hides from the priest and is almost discovered. But when he returns, he tells Maggie, “It’s still there." Because Maggie's group used to live in Meridian, clearly she's looking for something that they can use to help them and hoping the Reapers haven't moved or destroyed it. They don't tell us what it is in this episode, but I'm sure we'll find out.

During Negan and Maggie's heart to heart, I really liked that he called her Rhee. I'm not gonna say Negan was being respectful, because he doesn't really know the meaning of the word. But it was nice to hear him call her by Glenn's last name. At one point, he also says, "I get it." Beth line. He also mentions Aaron and Gracie, and that he knows Gracie came from the Savior compound, which was very interesting.

Of course, the episode ends, where Maggie's group is concerned, with them leading the walker herd toward Meridian. And of course, Elijah sees his sister and we have the very poignant scene where Elijah cries and Maggie holds his hand.

Daryl and Leah:

When Pope was yelling at his people to look for Maggie's group, he tells them to look by the lake, train tracks, and freeway overpasses. All those are places that have been linked to Beth symbolism in the past. Water, train tracks. The freeway overpasses one jumped out at me because there was a line that Edward said at Grady about how the first guy who died when Beth was there had been found under a freeway overpass with the box of Bisquick and a Merle Haggard tape.

I've seen a lot of people talk about a line that Daryl used when talking with Leah. She was telling him how Pope believed in her when no one else would. And it made her strong. Daryl remarked, "I doubt you've ever needed anyone to make you strong." Just a great call back to Beth and her, "I am strong," line.

When Daryl and Leah are out and just before they find the random family, there are some mushrooms on a log. Daryl sees it as evidence that someone has walked through there recently because it looked like they either trampled on or try to gather the mushrooms. So, yet another mushroom reference. I actually have more to say about the mushroom theme because of something that was mentioned on The World Beyond (TWB).

(By the way, I am going to do posts on the first episodes of TWB, but I want to focus on regular TWD until after episode eight airs next week. Then I’ll do some analysis of the first three TWB episodes together.)

I don't have a ton more to add about the final sequence with Leah and Daryl, when she can't kill the mother, so Daryl does it for her and then covers the woman with the white sheet. It's a major call back to Beth and it was a big deal.

The only other detail I noticed in the scene is that there were some pink flowers hanging, as if to dry, by Daryl's head. Pink theory.

The Commonwealth:

Of course, we have Eugene's group (all except Yumiko) clearing walkers in the Commonwealth. Eugene and Stephonie have a conversation in which he talks about the cerebellum and how it can block out unpleasant memories. Just felt like the brain injury sort of conversation to me.

Of course, Zeke is not doing well again. Princess has a line where she says, "they got real hospitals and shit here." Naturally, the word hospital gets our attention. I know there are still a lot of people who think Beth is at the Commonwealth and might be in one of the hospitals. I'm not totally convinced of that, but I would be down with it if it ends up being the case. We simply don't know yet.

Yumiko has an interview and insists on seeing Pamela Milton immediately. Because of the incident with Eugene, she doesn’t actually see Pamela in this episode.

She and Tommy speak again. Tommy reiterates strongly that, "no one can know I was a doctor." Yumiko appears to be surprised by that for the first time. And then only moments later, the CW guards come and take him away. I'm not sure how they found out, but we have all wondered if she didn't say something to someone already during the interview and screen process. We know that she said she wanted to find her brother, so it only makes sense that she let slip that he was a doctor at some point.

We haven’t been given a lot of details about what they know, but it seems obvious that something about her arrival has led to him being taken away. Later, Hornsby says he'll get Tommy out for her, but obviously there's a lot more going on here, and I doubt it will be that simple.

Ezekiel is given medical care, which once again we didn't see. It's all happening offscreen (another reason why people are suspicious about the CW's hospital. Why aren't we seeing that, or the people in it? Plus, remember that in the CW sales video, we saw a nurse in blue scrubs with blonde hair who looked a whole lot like Beth.)

When Zeke returns, he brings pink lollipops for everyone. Very much like Beth O'Grady except hers were green. But, of course, Pink Theory.

And of course, we have the whole incident with Pamela Milton’s son and how they set Eugene up to try to force him to give away Alexandria's location.

We also had the part where Yumiko is waiting in the reception area, waiting to talk to Pamela Milton. The real Stephanie is the receptionist. She seems worried about Eugene and the group, but Yumiko has no reason to suspect her of anything.

We also noticed Yumiko looking through a coffee table book that seems to have Italian villas in it. Not sure what that points to, but they focused on for too long for it not to mean something.

I think that's pre-much it for details in this episode. Anything I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethy

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earthstellar · 3 years

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INTERVIEW: Transformers lore and characters as discussed with my 74 year old mother

Backstory: I talk about fandom stuff a lot with my mom (she’s one of the original Star Trek fangirls so she knows her fandom shit lmao) and recently I’ve been discussing Transformers with her.

Me and my mom are very open with each other, and we have some interesting fandom conversations.

Here are some lines from a recent call with her that I thought might be interesting, regarding Transformers stuff and especially some interesting elderly person perspective on Ratchet. There’s also some talk of the theology in Transformers lore, including Drift and Spectralism, and a bunch of other stuff too.

All conversations transcribed from a recent Skype call, with my mom’s permission.

M is my mom, Me is just me-- So that you can tell who’s talking, lol. When other real people are mentioned, their names are redacted and replaced with an X for privacy.

Getting Started:

Me: Okay, there are a lot of younger fans for Transformers who might be interested in this kind of discussion, but I don’t see a lot of these conversations saved and shared anywhere, so if you don't mind I want to share some of your reactions to learning about Transformers stuff.

M: That’s okay, very professional of you to ask! The internet is a job now, I guess. I’m being interviewed, fancy.

On Ratchet’s Age/Health and older people in media:

Me: Ratchet’s the medic, he’s an old guy. Older than a lot of the other bots. In the comics (MTMTE/LL) he has a chronic illness and he eventually passes away from either that or complications related to it, although we don’t see it happen on the page. It made everyone sad; He’s a fan favourite.

M: I know how that feels, getting old and dying! I had years of thyroid symptoms before they had to take it out, I had endometriosis and they told me I couldn't have you, it’s an unsure thing. Now I’ve had skin cancers removed, I have too much potassium in my blood, I have fibromyalgia. I never expected to live this long.

Everyone is really just guessing at health stuff. It’s ironic that the doctor couldn’t diagnose himself, but I think he probably knew what was wrong and couldn't bring himself to accept it. Old people might accept that we can’t do some things any more but we tend to be depressed about it. Nobody really copes with it very well, you know X had a stroke and now she’s aphasic, can’t speak anymore, can’t read anymore, and she used to be a nurse. She’s older than I am, but it’s sad. She’s so smart and clever, and we’re just old. It’s what happens.

I bet Ratchet was scared. As a doctor, he’d know what can happen when you get old and decrepit. I think he was in denial, a lot of old guys seem to be like that.

Me: He was the medical lead on their ship, the Lost Light. I think you’re right and he wanted to be functional for as long as possible; He wants to be helpful and his job is his life. It would be hard for him; He struggles with retirement in the comics.

M: Sounds about right. I’m old as hell and I still work! Although that’s mostly because we all need money to live, and not so much because anybody wants to have a job at this age, but still. If he liked his job, he wouldn’t want to be pushed out. I loved working at the park; When I had to quit, it was devastating, but I didn’t really have a choice.

By the way, the audiobooks you sent me for X have really made her happy, she can read again, sort of! So thanks for that.

Me: I’m glad the audiobooks I sent you helped!

M: They have, you’re a life saver!

Me: I’m just glad they’re useful for her!

I think it’s interesting that his age is a part of his character in terms of personality and story arc; Do you enjoy seeing older characters in media that reflect the realities of age and being old, even when it’s difficult or possibly depressing?

M: Yes! There aren’t a lot of old characters, and the ones that are out there are mostly just joke characters or you never see them too often. I think the creators must think that old people don’t watch TV or anything, but the reason we don’t tune in is because everything is all about young people, and that can be hard. Watching people run around when you can’t anymore can be painful for those of us who have lost that ability now that we’re elderly, or watching kid-focused stuff can make us miss our families.

It would be nice to see old characters that are included and are competent.

Me: Representation is important.

M: Yes.

On Religion in Transformers:

Me: So, you work in a church. Just pointing it out so readers know where we’re coming from on this.

M: Yep, Episcopalian on the beach here, a small church. Services are mostly online due to COVID so I’ve lost hours on Friday, unfortunately... But I’m not complaining.

Me: And we both like the more spiritual lore type of content, it’s some good shit.

M: Always love seeing ancient Gods in space!

Me: So, there’s another old guy character, Alpha Trion, who’s a kind of sage-like mentor to Optimus Prime.

M: Optimus! He’s the truck! Everyone knows him, he’s the main guy.

Me: Yep! So Alpha Trion is an archivist, and when Optimus Prime was younger, depending on what version of the story we look at, he also used to be an archivist.

M: Librarian truck!

Me: Yes!

M: I love it. You worked at a library for a little bit.

Me: That work placement was the best, loved it. But Alpha Trion, depending on which version of the lore we look at, is hinted to be one of the formative deity-entities on their home planet, Cybertron.

M: Cybertroooooon. Haha! Good robot planet name. I’m into this so far, very cool.

Me: It is! And Alpha Trion is sort of the living memory of the early days of their planet and civilisation, but nobody knows. Everyone just thinks he’s a kind of cryptic weird old guy.

M: Relatable. I like this concept.

Me: It’s pretty good. So generally, things vary a lot from version to version of the story, but there are usually a handful of beings, early Transformers, who make up the character of their ancient lore. These are called the Primes, named after Primus, who pretty much always is depicted as their main God. Like Zeus, or Odin.

M: Very cool. Optimus is a Prime!

Me: Right! In a few versions of the story, he is the final Prime essentially reincarnated. The Thirteenth Prime.

M: That’s very cool.

Me: And in some other stories, Prime is mostly purely a title that has political connotations as well; It gets into a sort of weird Divine Right kind of area to help underscore some of the problems in their planetary political structure that led to the conflict that eventually became their civil war.

M: That sucks, but unfortunately, also relatable. It’s very real world, especially right now. It’s interesting how Transformers is so incredibly in depth; I never would have guessed from the cartoon ads that were on TV when you were little.

Me: Yeah, they seem to hide a lot of the lore, which is a shame. The comics are more adult than most of the TV shows, I think you’d like them.

M: Sounds like it. I love the spiritual robot stuff.

Me: In the comics, there is a religious practice called Spectralism that you might really like. They see auras by filtering different light wave bandwidths through their optics in order to detect mood, and all the colours have meanings assigned to them. They change their paint colours in accordance with those colour meanings as well, on some occasions. Meditation is part of the practice. One of the transformers, Drift, had at least one vision; It’s hinted there might be more to Spectralism, but we don’t see all that much of it in any further detail, unfortunately. They also believe in Primus as a deity.

M: It’s a shame they don’t elaborate more on it. It sounds very cool, like the stuff we were doing in the sixties and seventies. I bet Drift has some black light posters in his room, we had tons of them. Loved the velvet ones.

Me: He does have an altar, I think. Or a least a prayer area, it’s mentioned he meditates fairly frequently, from what I remember.

M: (Starts singing Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple) That was the best, put some tunes on... Good driving music, too!

On Femme Transformers and Sexism in Sci-Fi:

Me: So there are some lady Transformers, too!

M: Ooh!

Me: There’s Arcee, who is the pink one you probably remember from the ads or the cartoons, and in the comics she’s officially transgender.

M: Excellent! Trans-formers. Good.

Me: Yes! And there’s not just her, there’s Nautica and Velocity in the comics as well, plus Elita-One... (I showed her pictures of each.)

M: I like Velocity. I love the teal, the Thunderbird on the back is excellent.

Me: I like Velocity, too.

M: Elita has the head cones, not sure how I feel about that. She’s also pink, it’s hard to keep track of them all. I like Arcee, she has the Princess Leia hair helmet!

Me: I figured you’d like that. It’s pretty good.

M: I like Arcee and Velocity the best so far.

Me: There’s quite a few female or femme transformers now. There didn't used to be, and there were some mistakes made here and there, but nowadays there’s a much wider cast.

M: That’s good, I’m surprised, but in a good way. There were never women main characters in sci-fi stuff when I was a kid, it’s why Star Trek was such a big deal, and even then, it wasn’t all that great. There was Uhura, Nurse Chapel, but there were a lot of weird episodes...

Me: I love the Romulan Commander, though.

M: She was the best! Wished we got to see her more.

Me: Me too. But in Transformers, they’re doing a good job with the female coded characters, as least as far as I’ve seen.

M: That’s good to know. I’m glad that exists for girls who want to play Transformers, too. It always seemed like such a macho thing, the way they advertised it.

Me: Yeah, that’s still a problem to some degree, but I remember it being way more aggressively worse in the 80s/90s.

M: It was worse in the 50s when I was a kid! Cooking sets were the girl toy. They made Star Trek for boys, but when all the girls ended up being the main demographic that watched it, they cancelled it. It was Lucy from I Love Lucy who brought it back, I remember you told me that!

Me: Yep!

M: I’m glad little girls have Arcee. And little boys. They’re robots, they don’t have gender!

Me: Exactly!

If this kind of interview/conversation excerpt type thing is interesting to anyone, we’re happy to keep doing it!

Give me questions or things to ask my mom, she’s happy to give you some “old lady perspective”, lmao. ❤️

#Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #interview #fandom #MTMTE #LL #Maccadam #Maccadams #tf ratchet #tf drift #spectralism #transformers lore

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years

Text

From Delaware With Love

Title: From Delaware With Love (COMPLETE) - Part 2 of SOME SUNNY DAY Series

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Dean x OFC

Summary: Julie and Dean continued... a few months after A View To A Winchester.

Word Count: 7,500

Story Content: language, angst, therapy, fluff, smut, show-level violence

“Sweet smiles. Nothing but trouble.”

Dean mumbled, ankle deep in water in a rather large run off pipe. Someone had thought it a good idea to cut this pipe lengthwise and level with the ground. His boots filled with water. The chilly, dark October night was only going to make this experience more unpleasant for Dean.

He’d slipped into the drainage system seconds prior, missing his foothold. But had managed to remain upright. His arms had flailed about to keep balance. The flashlight, held tight in his hand, scattered its white beam about as if Dean was in a nightclub; instead of preparing to hop a fence into a graveyard.

“Shit.” The sheathed machete dangled and rocked back and forth from one of his belt loops. His heart raced at the adrenaline surge of the miraculous feat of his feet and the soggy state of his socks. The bottom fabric of his jeans darkened and soaked up liquid of a questionable nature.

He huffed, made sure his foot placement was on solid ground, then hiked out the water pipe. The eight foot high chain link fence met him on the other side. The top appeared safe enough. No barb wire. The climb though. He sighed.

“Should have brought some wire cutters.” He grumbled, testing the bottom of the fence to try and pry some of the fence back to shimmie under. “Shit.” An owl hooted somewhere off in the not too far distance. Fallen leaves crunched under and stuck to his wet soles.

His plan of attack was getting worked out when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Can’t let it go to voicemail again. I won’t get a sexy greeting when I get home. Dean clicked the accept button. “Hey, Jules. What’s up?”

“Hey, I’ve been calling you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. You called?” He weighed his options at playing dumb.

A pause. “Yeah, Dean. Like three times. Where are you?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m looking into that thing your mom mentioned to me this afternoon.”

“What thing?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Nooo.” Julie dragged out the one syllable. Dean wasn’t sure who was going to get read the riot act worse, him or Brigida.

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you then.”

“Dean…” She sighed.

He cased the surrounding park area with his eyes, turning a full three sixty. The last thing he needed was for something supernatural to sneak up on him while he was being sidetracked by his lady. Not the way Dean Winchester goes out. He gripped the fence with one hand and gave her his best low rumble, leaning into the chainlink. “You gonna say my name like that when I have you under me tonight?”

She sighed again. “Not if you don’t tell me what’s going on. And, it’s already eight o’clock. What could you possibly be looking into this late for mom?”

A story he’d worked out after the second missed call poured from his mouth. Not a lot of details. Vague. Just enough. The Winchester Way. “Got a call into the night nurse manager at that assisted living home. I’m on my way there now to ask a couple questions. Using one of my bounty hunter covers.” Not a full out lie.

“Oh my God. She roped you into investigating that stuff Gloria told her about today?”

“It’s fine, baby. Really. I should only be another hour. Two at the most. Wait up for me?” That slight hint of a beg would get her to cave. He was sure of it.

Julie groaned. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

Dean whined, soft.

Another pause. “Use your key. Wake me up when you get in.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, if you don’t wake up when I get in, I’m not doin’ it right.”

She laughed at his cheesiness. He focused on that sound, used it to counter the impending dread of the current situation. “Just take some of the nonsense my mother hears from her friends with a grain, no, a ton of salt next time.” Julie added. “You don’t always have to swoop in and save the day, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And, come home!” She ordered.

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Turned out none of that had been nonsense. Brigida had seen Dean that Wednesday right around one o’clock. She’d come back after visiting her friend Gloria and decided to drop off a tray of baked ziti at his front door. The pasta should have been his clue. Unassuming little witch with her gluten spells.

Rattling on about the visit with Gloria, she made herself at home in Dean’s kitchen. The huge serving of sauce and cheese and carbs placed in front of him was enough for three people. Brigida sprinkled in the conversation over Dean’s feast along with her freshly grated parmesan cheese. Gloria lived in Golden Rays Assisted Living Senior Center. The poor woman had been all upset that afternoon, couldn’t enjoy her visit or lunch. That made Brigida upset by association.

The day before, Gloria had heard a pair of family members of an elderly resident that had recently passed. Gloria listened in on every word all the way from her favorite spot in the commons area. Which, Brigida added, was amazing since Gloria was deaf in one ear. The family was screaming in the hallway at someone in charge, threatening to sue. An insistence continued as they were escorted out. Something foul had been done to their father’s body before it could be removed from the premises.

Dean had sounded deeply apologetic about the situation in between mouthfuls of food. Nodding and chewing. Damn, I would have been such a chubster if Brigida had been my mom. He stopped chewing when Brigida mentioned what Gloria had heard from another resident. The gossip was someone had chewed on the dead body and sliced some flesh from the thigh.

“But, that wasn’t the only time it’s happened, Dean-ah.” Brigida shook her head. “Gloria says some nurses were going on about weird stuff with a body a month ago. The woman had died in her sleep and they didn’t get around to check on her until the morning.” She waved both hands around in shock and disbelief high over her short, stubby frame. “What kind of place let’s someone stay dead in their bed the whole night-ah? I mean, we’d do the vigils in the houses for the dead when I was in Italy as a child.” She made the sign of the cross. “But, those people were dead in their beds on purpose. These nurses are getting paid to do a job and are too busy on their phones. These damn phones.”

Dean tried to steer her away from the technology rant. A common theme in her conversations. He swallowed down some pasta. “What weird stuff, Brigida?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to the other body?”

“Oh. The same thing. The thigh had been cut. Butchered up. Like someone was slicing up a steak for later.” She shivered, another sign of the cross and some mumblings in Italian. That’s when Brigida pulled out that sweet little smile of hers with puppy dog eyes that could give Sam a run for his money. “Do you think you could ask around? You know people, right? All that bounty ‘unting stuff Giulia says you do. You must know people.”

He’d headed to Golden Rays right after lunch. The plan was to go in as a son looking for some long term care options for a sick mother. Along the way he’d scope out the place, talk to some of the residents. That would put Brigida at ease.

These kinds of places were always sad and depressing. The Facility Director, chirping on about the positive aspects of around the clock care, seemed oblivious to the actual environment she was highlighting to Dean. Random wheelchaired residents parked by windows or in corners stared off at nothing. Walkers were used as weapons by the more mobile elders. They’d goad the nurses with the tennis ball covered legs and refused medications. Loud fits of nonsensical outbursts or arguments over a game of checkers could be heard in the commons area over the DIY channel on the television.

“Would it be alright to talk to some of your residents? You know, just to get the real skinny on this place?” Dean asked, flashing the fifty-something woman escorting him around his million dollar smile. “Not that you’d ever tell me a lie, Tameca. But you know… only the best for my mom.”

She tugged and righted her wrinkled pencil skirt. “Well, I can give you a few minutes.” She smiled back and fussed with her hair. “How about I go and get you a packet of information to take home with you?” He nodded. She tapped his forearm. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean sighed, gazing at a nurse on the other end of the room with a couple residents. Nothing had his radar up. His nose twitched at the antiseptic cleaner in the air being used to hide a lingering scent of urine.

“You’re Dean!” The exclamation forced Dean’s head to spin. A woman with a jet black head of hair, coiffed like a football helmet, sat on one of the couches, an arthritic finger crooked in his general direction.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “I am. And, who might you be?” He raised his voice, knowing it was better to assume everyone had a hearing issue in this place.

She gave him a knowing nod and tapped the cane on the carpet in front of her feet. “Gloria.”

“Ah. THE Gloria? Friend of Brigida?” He smiled and pointed to the empty seat next to her. “Alright if I join you?”

“I never turn down the company of a handsome fella.” She grinned.

Dean eased into the couch. “Did Brigida tell you I might be coming by?”

“No. But she’s talked about you every week for the past three months when she comes by for lunch. ‘Dean this. Dean that. Dean’s such a good boyfriend to my daughter.’” Gloria leaned in. “She shows everyone here pictures of you on her phone.”

“Really?” That was a little concerning. “Pictures?” When the hell did she take a picture of me?

Gloria waved his look away. “She’s happy is all. And, wants to brag a little. Don’t be too hard on her. Giulia means the world to her. From what I’ve heard, you make her pretty happy.” Her wrinkles smoothed as she turned serious. “Are you here about what I told Brigida? She said she’d mention it to you. I heard about how you rescued Giulia.” She whispered and fussed with something in her ear.

Ah, one of those ‘I’ll only use my hearing aid when I want to types’. “Yes.” Dean matched her tone. “Did she tell everyone here about that, too?”

“No. Italians only like to hang our clean laundry out for everyone to stare at. Not the dirty stuff.”

Dean chuckled. “Is there anything else you can tell me, about what’s been going on?”

“Well,” she scooted a little closer next to him on the couch and grabbed his knee, “Heard something kind of scary about Night Nurse Nancy.”

Sounds like a character in a porn. “Okay.”

“Freddie… well, he almost checked out the other night. I just got an earful from him. He told me that he was having trouble breathing… real bad sleep apnea.” She pointed to a man who looked to be about a hundred sleeping in a wheelchair.

Dean pointed, brows raised in confusion. “You got an earful out of that man?”

She nodded. “I’m the only one he talks to around here. Everyone thinks he’s a nut job. Anyway, he told me he woke up the other night and thought he was dreaming, when he saw Nancy standing over his bed. She took the damn CPAP machine off his face and just watched him. For minutes. And, then…”

Dean frowned. “Yeah?”

“She licked his face. Said he was going to taste yummy.”

Still sounds like a character in a porn.

Gloria continued. “But, Nancy’s been acting a bit strange over the past couple months.”

“Well, face licking is definitely a contender for strange behavior.”

“Depends on the situation, young man.” Gloria flirted with a wrinkle-laden grin.

Dean cleared his throat.

The old woman didn’t skip a beat in the conversation. “She’s been missing work a lot. Used to be like clockwork. Real dependable.” Gloria sighed. “And, she used to smell so nice. Like begonias. Now, when she comes into my room to help me get ready for bed,” her nose wrinkled up, “she smells like a sewer.”

Pieces slotted into place in Dean’s head. “Would you happen to know Night Nurse Nancy’s last name and when she comes into work?”

Gloria did know Nancy’s last name. It was Kissle and she usually started her shift at six o’clock. Dean said his goodbyes. Gloria teased he should come by one day with Brigida for lunch. The macaroni and cheese they served on Wednesdays wasn’t half bad. Even Brigida ate it. Tameca, the Facility Director, cornered him with a Golden Rays folder before he could duck out and insisted she get his phone number. He obliged, giving her his other, other cell phone contact.

Dean drove Baby to the nearest coffee shop, lugged his business laptop in with him, logged onto the Free WiFi, and did his best Sam impression for a good half hour. Sipping on some black coffee, he used his hunting know-how and skip tracking tools and resources to find out as much as he could about Nancy Kissle. He and Julie exchanged some lively and sexy text messages in between his research. He told her he was out on a quick job, but should be able to swing by her house later. If not for dinner, then most definitely dessert (winky face emoji, tongue licking face emoji).

The information hadn’t been too hard to dig up. Nancy was a little over fifty. Single. Never married. Lived about five miles from the facility. There was no harm in swinging by her place of residence. Maybe he could ask her a few questions. Or do some snooping. He had a hunch, but he needed to be sure. It was almost five. Maybe he’d get lucky. But, his stomach grumbled, so he grabbed a sandwich to eat in the car before he left.

The five story apartment complex looked like any other. Unassuming, boxy and boring, with a worn green covered awning leading to the entrance doors. A horseshoe shaped parking lot wrapped around the building. Dean drove around the lot, slow and determined, until his eyes landed on the license plate attached to Nancy Kissle’s motor vehicle registration. Still here. He parked far away from the puke green compact hatchback belonging to the nurse. He frowned at the similarity in shape and size the suspect’s car had to Julie’s.

Deciding his usual attire would not be too out of the ordinary for anyone to remember if things went south, he slid a hammer into the large interior pocket of his army jacket. Dean was flying by the seat of his pants again. And, he kind of enjoyed it. Baby’s door clicked closed upon his exit.

Enjoyment versus duty. That was the crux of his last therapy session with Tricia that very morning, hours before Brigida arrived. Tricia was a sixty year old licensed therapist who also had thirty years of hunting under her now hung up belt.

Dean pulled his phone out and paced outside the locked doors of the apartment building. He pretended to have a conversation with someone, glancing in the glass doors, until a man appeared in a hurry on his way out. He chatted away into the phone and slid through the space of the open doorway the resident had left in their wake.

The tiny entryway had a wall of lockers that served as mailboxes on one side. The room smelled like dirty gym socks.

Charming. Nothing like Tricia’s place, that’s for sure. Tricia had a condo in Denver, Colorado. Dean got a little tour of her swanky abode in their first telehealth session two months ago. He’d needed proof of her credentials. The diplomas on her wall made no difference. He wanted to see her hunter’s stash, her old tools of the trade. A pull of a safe door, hidden behind an expensive looking painting that pried back from the wall on a hinge, let him peek via video chat at the guns, knives, spell books, and ingredients used to make tinctures and antidotes. There were even a few vampire teeth and werewolf claws in a mason jar. They tinkled against the glass when she shook it. The only things Tricia hunted now were elk. An eight point trophy hung above the wall behind her in the office.

Dean noted the permits and approvals hanging over his head in the apartment building alcove. He also did a sweep for cameras. One pointed at the entrance door. But, lucky him, there was no sign of another one. Especially one pointing in the direction of what he’d been looking for since he stepped inside. Assuring no one was heading in or out, he sprinted to the far corner and pulled the fire alarm. A pitiful dinging emerged from the ancient system. Seconds later, the other alarms in the building triggered and echoed back, louder and with purpose. His eyes darted up the stairwell and then the elevator. Let’s hope Nancy is responsible and follows guidelines in an emergency. Dean started up the steps, slow, feeling that surge of enjoyment pulse through him.

Enjoyment versus duty. He had lists to put together for his next therapy session. Forty three fucking years old and I gotta do homework. Things he did for enjoyment. Things he did because he had to. See if any connected, overlapped. Dean already told her he’d enjoyed hunting. Needed it like breathing. Had grown into embracing the duty and found a carnal pleasure in the hunt at a young age. Tricia already knew the whispered, hero tales of the fabled Winchesters. In fact, having Dean Winchester as a client was like hitting the jackpot. She might write a dissertation about him if he ever gave her permission. Dean wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or a threat.

The question, Tricia posed, was if he could consider himself a good person, not broken, outside the realm of normalcy, because he found enjoyment in the duties of a hunter. There were many things people enjoyed centuries, even only decades past, that had been considered evil, abnormal. If enlightenment and acceptance was possible on a societal level by a large majority, Dean should be able to give himself the same hall pass.

Residents passed him down the apartment building stairwell. Some in a hurry, others grumbling at the disruption. “Wrong way, buddy.” A smart ass, about Dean’s age, tossed the comment out at him.

“Making sure my girlfriend isn’t home, thanks.” Dean mumbled. As he rounded the corner and glanced up, he identified Nancy from her drivers license picture, exiting the door marked “3rd.” Dean slowed as the ample bosomed woman he’d been looking for passed his figure. The stench Gloria mentioned wafted into his nose. Not a sewer. But how would Gloria know that smell or have anything else but a sewer to compare it to? Only someone who’s spent time six feet under would know that smell. All those endless hours racked up, thousands of them probably, surrounded by dirt and rotting corpses. That’s the smell of a graveyard.

Nancy continued down the stairs, not even giving Dean a second glance. A peek down the zig zags, making sure that if he couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see him, gave him the confidence to head through the door into the third floor hallway. A sweeping survey of the hall confirmed he was alone. The order of the numbered apartment doors guided his direction. His steps hurried to the right and followed the bend that turned left. Boots halted at the threshold of 3E. A floor mat covered in cartoon cats chasing balls of yarn welcomed him.

Poor Nancy. He knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Dean deemed the area around him clear with a tilt of his head left, then right, and a tuning of his ears to the sounds of nothing in the hall. He pulled the picks out of his pocket. Fiddling with the pins in the lock, hunched over, for longer than anticipated made his back uncomfortable. An inner debate of a kick down was admonished once the click of success bolted him upright to twist the doorknob.

A meow from a long haired white cat greeted him when he stepped in the doorway. It snaked and rubbed around one of his shins, purring, transferring its fur onto Dean’s jeans. Another orange tabby was not as friendly, frozen in place near the love seat in the living room. Dean took another step inside and the orange cat fled the scene. The white feline bolted after it in what looked like a playful chase. The earthy scent hit him, like compost on steroids.

Dean readied himself with the hammer in hand and canvassed the small apartment. The cat food and water bowls were filled in the living room. He passed by the bathroom. There were self care products on the vanity, all arranged nice and neat. The litter box in a nook in the hallway was clean. What the hell? Maybe it’s not…

A turn of a corner had him in the kitchen. The chest freezer in the spot where a table would normally sit halted his steps. Locked. He aimed and swung the hammer on the tiny combination lock twice. It broke into pieces and scattered on the floor. The contents of the freezer made Dean cringe. “Son of a bitch.” He mumbled. “Poor Nancy.”

Nancy still wore the tattered remains of her bloody nurse uniform. She’d been folded and wedged into the freezer like a trash compactor had given up halfway through. An even more macabre version of a contortionist trick. The ghoul hadn’t even bothered to close the eyes of its victim. Not that Dean had expected something close to mercy from anything supernatural. Her eyeballs were covered in a layer of frost and cloudy. The cat pattern of her scrubs bloody in patches where the monster had been snacking.

He closed the lid, then opened the fridge door. Clear glass storage containers, all from a matching set with pink plastic lids, were filled with, at first glance, cuts of meat, pork. “The fucker’s moved in. And, it likes cats. And, not just as a side dish.”

Keeping Nancy on ice to use her form. Nice and comfy living her life after a couple months. Must have bought the freezer right after she died. A blaring firetruck and sounds of activity from the open kitchen window had him peek down to the parking lot. Shit. Her car’s gone. His watch read that it was almost six. It must have gone to work. Gotta get another lead on this thing and its habits. Routines. Can’t wait here for when it gets back and can’t off it at the nursing home.

A pile of envelopes, bills and paperwork piled up on the kitchen counter got his attention. His fingers waded through, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “Hm. All Saints Cathedral Cemetery.” He studied the invoice. “A mausoleum crypt? Buying a vacation home, too?” He snapped a picture of the invoice to grab the address and crypt location. “Well, I know where I’m going next.”

Now, after tossing the machete over first as a precaution, Dean climbed over the chain link fence, grumbling and cursing. He might be really close to wrapping up this issue. And, dammit, he wanted to get home to Julie. Warm in her bed, waiting for him. Safe.

It took another twenty minutes to search the grounds of the cemetery. Dean tracked down the ten by ten crypt that Nurse Nancy had put a down payment on. The elaborate, gothic stone work and the crumbling mortar of the exterior proved this wasn’t new construction. What the hell? Can you lease these things?

The makeshift crowbar, an iron post loosened from a fence five minutes prior, wedged into the gap between the crypt gate and the jamb broke the seal with little effort. Dean recalled the brother and sister ghoul duo that had killed his half-brother Adam. Need to make sure this is a swinging singles pad and not a home for the fucking Brady Bunch.

The post clanged to the concrete. “Lucy! I’m home!” Dean belted out in his best Desi impression. The machete eased out of the sheath. The swish of the blade swirling in his rotating wrist. It finally settled in position by his thigh. The flashlight focused on the corners of the stone structure, the walls, the ceiling, the ground.

Nothing here. Not yet.

A gust of wind shot past Dean, into the crypt. At least, he’d thought it was the wind for a second. Then Nancy, a crazed look in her eye, out of breath, hair wild, appeared before him in the center of the floor. And smiled.

Her palm connected to his sternum in a classic Bruce Lee move. The force threw Dean backwards out of the crypt onto squishy sod, and thankfully not a tombstone, about ten feet away. He landed arms flailed and outstretched - on purpose to avoid slicing off any important bits with the machete. “Ooof!” Dean groaned. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.” His flashlight now lost, he rose trying to focus in the dark. The ghoul’s shadow strolled over. “Strong, silent type, huh?” Dean shrugged and wheezed. “Can’t shut me up to save my life.” He gripped the machete like a baseball bat. “I gotta know, though.” He gasped. “What’s up with the cats?” His insides vibrated from the manhandling.

Nancy stopped, a couple feet in front of his figure. Her head tilted.

“I mean is the crazy cat lady thing just a bit? You have a partner in crime helping you out with all this?”

“What? Never been killed by a strong, independent ghoul before?” She finally spoke. Her voice shrill. Cackling.

Dean smiled. “All I needed to hear.” He swung.

And didn’t miss.

When he got back to his car, Dean called Detective Marty Tullman and explained the whole mess.

“Damn, Winchester. Again? If I weren’t as good a cop as I am and seen the things I’d seen, I’d think you were some serial killer baitin’ me along.” Marty sounded tired over the line.

“Saved your life, remember?” Dean reminded.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what I gotta clean up?”

“I tried to clean up my prints back in the apartment. But, in case any get lifted…”

He sighed, “Yeah, yeah.”

“And, the twinsie ghoul is in the crypt for safekeeping. Just so you see it for yourself.” He snapped his finger. “Get those cats some nice homes, Detective.”

The powerful jets of his bathroom shower sprayed hot water with an intense focus on all his aching muscles. He leaned into the heat and wet for a good ten minutes, stretching and grunting, trying to squash the adrenaline surge along with the impending soreness. A helping of pain meds and a beer were taken for good measure. The comfy sweats, his blue Henley, and slippers would be enough for the quick trek to his final destination. He slipped house keys and the phone into a pocket after locking up. Debated, then rounded the front of his house to cut through the neighbor’s backyard. No more fence climbing tonight.

Dean halted at the end of Wes and Samuel’s driveway, spotting the red embers of a cigarette near the back porch, before their motion sensor spotlighted him.

“Hello, Dean.” Samuel crooned his way. A camel colored cardigan hung loose from his shoulders and hunched frame, leaning elbows on bent knees. A puff of the cigarette had it blazing red again.

“Sorry, Samuel. Alright if I head through?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask. Neighbors and all.” He grinned in the golden glow. “You should probably install a gate between your backyard and Julie’s, though. For convenience.” A tip of the head toward Julie’s house followed, along with a wink.

Dean smiled. “Good idea. I’ll run the idea by her. Have a good night.”

As he walked away, Dean heard Samuel mumble, “Not as good a night as you’ll be having, I’m sure.”

Dean crept through Julie’s house, avoiding as many of the creaks in the floor as possible. It was a thoughtful gesture on his part but totally unnecessary. He’d learned over the past couple months how sound of a sleeper his lady was. Out like a light when she didn’t have much to fuss or worry about. Out even faster after a horizontal, or on occasion vertical, sexy romp with him. She mumbled one night, in his arms as she drifted, that she hadn’t slept so well in years. A sense of pride and accomplishment filled him, hearing that.

He slid through the doorway into her bedroom. His eyes caught her luscious frame tangled in a mess of comforter and sheets in the middle of the bed. Such a bed hog. He touched the small lamp on the nightstand to get a better view. His and her house key, and silenced phone, landed on the dresser.

The adrenaline flooded through him again. He wet his lips and strolled to the foot of the bed. Took his time. Drank her in. Ready for me. Her bare shoulders peeking out from the covers indicated she’d gone to bed with not much on, anticipating his return. Her little moans, her version of snoring, increased an octave with each inhale. He waited for it to reach that plateau, crest, and die down again, quiet and calm. He’d gotten used to that little detail, stayed up close to an hour one night to memorize her breathing pattern. It helped his not as restful sleeping habits adjust to hers.

Dean pulled at the comforter with a tight grip. It snagged with the dead weight. The insistence and tugging caused her to moan in her sleep. Dean’s commando cock twitched. She rolled over onto her back, freed the comforter. Feeling like he hit the jackpot, Dean realized he had hooked the sheet as well. Julie rolled to her other side and sighed.

Oh, yes. Sooo ready for me. He peeled the sheet back and away. Saw the slope and crook of her arms hiding those breasts he needed to get his mouth on. The dip of her spine and the curve of her ass and those plump cheeks he wanted to slap. Thighs he wanted wrapped around his ears, blocking out any noise so all he could hear was his mouth sucking and working her pussy into a puddle. The tight cords on the back of her knees he ached to feel clench over his shoulders.

Dean removed his shirt and sweatpants. His cock was now at full attention and already dripping with precum. “Jules.” He whispered, the comforter and sheets now a small hill at the bottom of the mattress. He had to climb over, careful and slow. He slipped onto his tummy and army-crawled toward her.

His hard cock slid and pushed into the mattress. He groaned. She stirred. Another sigh and she rolled fast, flopped onto her back, slapping his cheek with curled fingers and the back of her hand. Dean cursed. Julie snored.

He felt his eyes widen. Her breasts rose with each deep breath. He tilted his head away from her offending arm and slithered over to her chest. He whispered. “You better not slap me again, Jules. Not in the mood.” She moaned, in her dream world, back at him. “Shit. Maybe I am.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. His chin hovered inches above her ribcage. The shadow of his profile covered the rise of her soft tummy. The hunger rose with the travel of his gaze over the solid, protruding hip bones. He loved to gnaw on them before getting down to business between her legs. She was a feast for sore eyes.

There’d still been so much he wanted to explore with this woman. He had to keep reminding himself to believe he had time with her. The safe part, that’s most important right now. Thoughts and visions of tying her up had gotten him hard beyond comprehension. Hell, he even toyed with the offering of Jules wrapping silk cords around his wrists. Pink ones. He’d talked him through how bad of an idea all of that was in front of the bathroom mirror weeks back. There was the potential flashback and trigger of Jules’ kidnapping by the Jinn. None of it would be a wise venture. He couldn’t ask her, even in jest, if she’d be up for that kind of kink. At least not now.

So, the weeks together had been playful, light, and he let her guide him. Watched with surprise and awe when she expressed her cute little dominant side. Especially when his mouth went where it wanted to right now. Or, that time she was down on her knees, giving him the privilege of her mouth on his cock, and decided to slap his ass right as he got close to coming.

As much as he ached to wake her with his tongue or cock deep inside, it was not a good idea.

“Julie?” He whispered, louder.

Nothing.

“Julie?” He nudged into her side with his chin. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

An angry little moan escaped. Grumpy.

He sighed, then spoke louder, with more force. “Okay. I guess I’ll just get dressed and head back home.” He leaned on his side, propped up on an elbow, ready to rock off the mattress, watching for any reaction from her.

That dangerous arm curled around his chest, hooking into his side. “Dean?” she asked, stirring from sleep, eyes still closed.

“Who else would be naked in your bed?” He teased and relaxed into the softness of her body. Her tummy was the perfect pillow for the side of his face. His neck and shoulder wedged against her waist. A nuzzle made her sigh, knowing she appreciated that he took a razor to his scruff after the shower earlier.

He studied her face from his vantage, past her breastbone, caught the lips turning into a smile. “Depends on the night. Have to check my schedule.” She mumbled. “What time is it?”

Dean swiveled his head to read the alarm clock. “After ten.”

“Deeaann.” She grumbled. “Why so late?”

“Shhh…” He dialed down her grumpiness with a handful of breast and the soft rolling of her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You gonna yell at me or let me take care of you?”

A pleasant moan erupted. “Can’t we do both?” She whispered.

He chuckled. “Bossy.”

“Baby.” She countered.

“Oh, it’s gonna be like that?” Dean bolted up, rocked back on his knees, bare ass against his heels. Julie’s eyes bolted open as well. He loved that look of amazement and lust he could conjure. He grabbed her by a knee with both hands, lifted the leg up in the air and swung it around him, scissoring her open like a living doll. Just as quick, he leaned down kissing her tummy. His forearms tunneled under her back between the mattress, lifting and placing her in a more comfortable position now that he’d bent her into an odd angle. Her head flopped by the side of the bed.

She giggled as he cradled the back of her head with one hand and shoved two pillows under her ponytail. “So thoughtful.” She teased.

“I try, sweetheart.”

Julie’s smile softened. Her cool fingers gripped his jaw. “I know.” She lifted off the pillows and seized his lips in a kiss. “Hm.” The sound vibrated in his mouth. Continued to pulse through his skin when she released. “I missed you.”

He grinned. “You just had me last night.”

She shrugged. “And?”

He sat back up between her legs. His knees splayed under her thighs. All of her opening to him. His thumb slipped through the fold, light and teasing. She groaned. He was still sore as hell but he was going to spend at least an hour on her body. “How do you want me tonight? Cause I have all sorts of ideas.”

She bit her bottom lip before speaking, squirming under his touch. “I had a surprise for you. That was why I wanted you to come home early.”

His eyes dipped down to inspect the wetness coating the two fingers he had swiped past the dark curls and through the pink folds. He licked his lips and gazed back up at her face.

“Dean. Shit. I guess it can wait until the weekend.”

“Seriously? You’re going to hit me with ‘had a surprise for you’ and make me wait?” He lowered his voice on purpose. “Come on, baby. What was the surprise?” He searched for her wet hole, found it, and snuck in with a fingertip.

“You made me wait.” She shot back. Dean smirked at how hard she was trying to stay focused and angry. “God, why do you have to be so goddamn infuriating, adorable, and fuckable all at the same time?” She huffed and stared him down with a shaky, crumbling glare.

“Gift.” He strummed her clit with his thumb, found that spot that tapped her like the second hand of a clock. Slight tremors shook through her skin and hitched breath. His mouth betrayed him, confessing, “Damn, I love how your body responds to me. Wanna be inside. Feel you all around me.” He tested her with a soft order. “Grab a condom. You’re closer. And, I don’t want to stop… this.” He thrummed her hard now.

She hummed, thinking. Her chest arched up. “So, maybe then I should give you your surprise?”

“Jules.” He groaned. “Come on, baby. One way or another, we’ve got to shift this into the next gear. Quick.”

“I went on the pill a few weeks ago.” She moaned out.

Dean stilled his movements. “Huh?”

Her panting continued. He watched her try to come down from the arousal. “Went to the doctor and got some birth control.” Her mouth danced around the explanation. “Steve had gotten snipped years ago. I thought… if you wanted… if this was going somewhere… we might want…” She shrugged. “Be closer.”

Dean’s lips parted, listening to her. His hands left the warmth and wet of her. He leaned down, let his hands cage her at the waist.

“I had to get tested, just to make sure, right after I found out what the asshole did.” She continued. “So, I know I’m fine.” Her eyebrows raised in hope.

Dean smiled.

“If you aren’t sure, we can wait until you get tested. I mean, with all your past man whoring.” She smiled back.

“Man whoring?” He chuckled.

“No one is this good without lots of experience.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re pretty damn good. Does that mean…?”

She tilted her head and pursed her lips.

He sighed. “Want to know one of the scariest things I ever did?”

The curiosity won and she nodded.

“Getting tested for every damn STD two years ago. When I moved to Delaware… after…” There were still the secrets he had to navigate through. He’d only told her more about his mom and dad and his nomad existence with Sam over the past month. But, nothing about the supernatural and the Winchester saga. He sighed, hating the need to audit the details. “I figured if I was going to clean slate it, I might as well know if I had anything else to worry about. I mean, I’d had the occasional… annoyances over the years… with all my man whoring as you so nicely put it.”

She giggled, her hands gliding up his arms, muscles bulging, locked straight on either side of her waist now. “And?”

“By some miracle, all good.” He begrudgingly gave Chuck credit for that.

She nodded, the smile growing. “And no one but me since you got tested?”

“Nope. No other pussy has passed these lips or been introduced to my cock.”

She slapped his biceps. “Nice.” Her lids narrowed. “What about ass?”

He laughed. “Nope. No other orifices.” He added as her mouth opened to question again. “Female or male.”

“Oh. Do I get to hear some fun tales?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how this goes first?” Dean asked.

Julie nodded, let the words breathe out husky and deep. “Yes. Please.” She removed one of the pillows under her head and got comfy. “Andiamo, Bello.”

Dean gulped, buckled at the elbows and lay prone on top. Staring into her eyes, cushioning into the soft curves and feeling the hard ridges. “Not fair, Jules. You know what you do to me when you start talking Italian.”

Her hands roamed over his shoulders. “You feel so good already, Dean.” She kissed his lips soft and tender. “I’ve been wanting to really feel you since that first night together.”

His hardening cock settled into the warmth, sliding and teasing into the folds with a subtle rocking of hips. “You’re sure?” He asked. “You let me inside like this, I may never come out.” She giggled into her moan. Their lips, wet with the mingling and his licking, slipped over each other. Need. Want. All of her body heating up under his. So close. The thought of being even closer to this woman stilled him for a moment, froze him in the kiss. Should I? Without her knowing all of it?

He knew she felt whatever that was that happened in him. She pulled back. Threaded fingers through his hair and stared into his eyes. Deep. Hard. “Honest? In this moment?” She asked, smiling.

He nodded, those words heard from her often over the past weeks, requesting a glimpse into his thoughts.

“No plans on hurting me?”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” He whispered. “Right through to my bones. All I wanna do is make you happy.” He shrugged. “And, not piss you off too much in the attempt.”

She squirmed and circled her hips under him. “Pissing me off is half the fun, though, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Maybe.” Her motions ignited him again. “God, you’re really gonna let me, huh?” He licked his lips and then hers. “It’s been so long since I’ve done that. Hot stuff isn’t gonna last long.”

“Then enjoy every second.” She mumbled, slid over to nibble on his ear and whispered. “I wanna watch.”

Dean groaned. “Fuck. Really not gonna last long if you keep ordering me around.” He took a deep breath and pushed up into a plank position. Her face tilted up, breath hot, exhaling fast against his chin. Their bodies shifted and eased in place, both of them focusing on the heat of their sex. One hand pushed her bent leg farther up and into the mattress, then stroked his length, still wet with her. “Can you see alright?” He asked.

She nodded, kissing his chin.

He smiled and dipped down to brush her forehead with his lips. His cock slid through her folds, slipping and coating, readying. He knew what he was looking for, of course. Knew her anatomy and proportions, had them seared and memorized in his brain. But he wanted to enjoy the feel of every inch of pink and plush and pulsing flesh. Enjoy every second.

Her hip tilted up, eager. Her face was flushed. She licked her lips and Dean almost collapsed on top of her.

He pressed the tip to her entrance. “This what you want so bad?”

“You know it is.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?”

“Want to feel you. Just you, deep inside.”

“Fuckin’ Hell.”

He moaned and pressed in an inch. His hand assisted in the guidance for another second or two. Then, he let go, balanced above her on locked arms again, his back curving downward in a slalom slope to his ass. His eyes closed, relishing the exquisite torture of skin to skin; the clutch of her walls accepting him; the sounds she made, a little more high pitched than usual.

His eyes opened, catching her staring at his face. He smiled. “Thought you wanted a good view down below?”

“Nothing wrong with the view up here, either.” She urged him down to share a kiss, soft and slow.

He broke from her mouth. “Watch us, Jules.”

She nodded. And he watched with her as their bodies connected. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he eased down, seated into her complete and full. And she gave him the sweetest smile.

“Sweet smiles.” He groaned in delight. “Nothing but trouble.”

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean x ofc #spnfanficpond #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @gryvon!

Read on AO3

*****

Get your FEET off the Dash it's LEATHER

Chris Argent caught up to him at the same time as the FBI, and Kate. Chris had information and wanted his help, Kate shot him in the stomach and stole the yellow wolfsbane he’d taken out of storage to protect. Like an idiot. At least Kate couldn’t handle wolfsbane enough to put it inside bullets herself anymore. It still hurt, but he wasn’t about to die, and he managed to get up and track Kate back to the hideout she was sharing with the last of the hunters from South America. By the time he got there, Kate was long gone, but her accomplices were still around.

Derek slipped inside the hunters’ hideout to see what he was up against. They were hunters alright. Lots of them. With lots of guns. This might be where they stockpiled them; it was certainly big enough for that. He was hiding behind a shelf full of some sort of gun he didn’t recognize, not one that Braeden ever used, when he heard the trucks pull up outside. The FBI, he realized in surprise. He knew they were tracking him, but he didn’t think they’d catch up to him again this quickly. Not since Kate took out the last attempt.

The FBI was quiet enough that the hunters hadn’t heard them yet, and they managed to sneak inside just like Derek had, and space themselves out around the warehouse. Not very observant hunters, obviously. Derek waited patiently while they set up, figuring he’d give them a hand in apprehending the actual bad guys.

Satisfied that the FBI was in position, and not wanting to risk any of them finding his hiding spot before he’d had the chance to clear his name, Derek stepped out from behind the shelves and cleared his throat. Seven hunters spun around to face him, all bringing their guns up to bear.

Derek raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here to talk.”

One of the hunters snorted. “Yeah, sure. After what we did to your buddies down in Brazil, I’m sure that’s true.”

So they hadn’t heard about the other group of hunters Derek had already caught up with. Or at least they weren’t bringing it up. “That was you then,” Derek said, raising his voice just slightly. “You killed those people.”

Another of the hunters outright laughed at that. “Yeah, people, sure.”

“Just so long as we’re all clear that I had nothing to do with it.” Derek kept his eyes on the hunters, refusing to let his eyes find the FBI agents hidden around the room.

“What are you talking about, we were looking for you.”

Derek grinned. This time he let his voice raise more obviously as he called out, “you got that?”

“Showoff,” someone muttered to his right. Someone with a very familiar, very distinctive voice.

Derek’s head jerked towards the voice. “Stiles?”

The air was suddenly thick with gunfire. The hunters jerked their guns back up, at Derek’s sudden movement or his addressing of the hidden figures in the room, it didn’t matter. The FBI opened fire and Derek dove for cover in the direction of Stiles’ voice as the hunters fired back. He rounded a shelf and came face to face with — yeah, that was Stiles, grinning like an idiot.

“Hey, Sourwolf.”

“Stiles.” Derek blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? I joined the FBI. We’re here to arrest you.” Stiles’ grin widened. He grabbed Derek’s arm and started tugging him towards the exit. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Nice job, by the way. Quick thinking and all that. Figured you would have heard us — didn’t know you had it in you.”

Derek followed after Stiles, still a bit bewildered, with half a grin on his face, until he felt more than saw one of the hunters turn a gun in their direction. He yanked Stiles back and Stiles cried out in surprise almost at the same moment Derek heard the gunshot. Or, Derek thought it was surprise, until Stiles whimpered and Derek looked down to see part of his shoe had been blown off.

Stiles wobbled and Derek swore as he helped Stiles to the ground, kneeling next to him to yank off the book and sock underneath.

“Ow, hey, fragile human here!” Stiles chocked out a sob as Derek examined his foot. There were only four toes. The fifth was a bloody stump and Derek couldn’t see the detached tip anywhere when he glanced around for it.

More bullets whizzed by overhead and Derek gave up the search in favour of getting them both safely out of there. He scooped Stiles up in a bridal carry, and instead of protesting Stiles just grabbed onto Derek’s neck and started wailing. Derek carried him out the door, rolling his eyes at Stiles’ antics. He was so dramatic. It was just a toe. Not like it was an arm.

Stiles passed out just outside the doors and Derek carried him to the nearest available van. An agent was there to greet them. Derek dumped Stiles’ unconscious body in the back of the van and pointed to Stiles’ foot. “He got shot. I couldn’t find the toe.”

“Freaking interns,” the agent muttered, grabbing her radio. She glanced up and paused. “Aren’t you Derek Hale?”

Derek sighed and held out his wrists. “Yeah. You gotta handcuff me to the door or something?”

The agent hesitated, then nodded slowly, reaching back to retrieve her handcuffs. She fixed them on Derek’s wrists and he sat down in the back of the van next to Stiles's still unconscious — and possibly slightly snoring — body.

Everything after that was all very chaotic but still somehow efficient. A medic came over to check on Stiles and Derek was led away to be questioned, though thanks to the hunters’ confessions earlier he was no longer a suspect. He told them he knew the people who were murdered in Brazil, distant relatives of his, and when he saw the police had no leads he decided to take matters into his own hands. His interrogators — interviewers? —tried to chastise him for that, but Derek just rolled his eyes and pointed out that until he got the hunters to confess, the FBI still suspected him. The same thing happened when his sister died, and even with his family’s murders to a certain extent. Until Stiles stepped in and helped prove his innocence, he points out as an afterthought. Maybe it would impress someone here that Stiles had been successfully solving crimes for years now. In a slightly unlawful, vigilante fashion, but whatever.

When Derek got out of debriefing — ugh — Stiles was waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a cane propped next to him. He grabbed it and pushed off the wall, grinning when he saw Derek approach.

“Hey.” Stiles nodded.

“Hey yourself.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder. “We made a pretty good team back there. As usual.” Derek rolled his eyes. Hard. “So where’ve you been? What’ve you been up too?”

“Oh, you know. Getting accused of murder, going on the run, chasing down homicidal hunters, getting called back to Beacon Hills to bail everyone out of the latest crisis. The usual.” Derek shrugged.

Stiles waved his hand dismissively. “I know about all that. I’m in the FBI, there’s surveillance. Anyway, I meant — wait. What about Beacon Hills?”

“Scott didn’t tell you?” Derek raised an eyebrow. He figured Stiles would be the first person they’d call.

“No, obviously not! Tell me what? What’s going on?” Stiles’ free hand skittered through the air before he dove it into his pocket to fish out his phone and started texting. “Lydia didn’t say — but maybe she doesn’t know either? Why wouldn’t Scott — I thought Scott left! He’s still in Beacon Hills? What the hell!”

Derek snorted. “Even I know something’s going on in Beacon Hills and I haven’t talked to anyone in months.”

“What, being on the run turns you into more of a hermit than usual?” Stiles glanced up from his frantic one-handed texting. “We missed you, man. You could’ve called.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“You should probably get one.” It was Stiles’ turn to snort. “Wait.” Stiles finally looked up fully. “How do you not have a phone? How do you survive?”

Derek shrugged.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

An agent hurried past, carrying a huge stack of papers, and Stiles shifted out of the way, overbalancing with his cane and injured foot.

Derek reached out to steady him. “Should you be walking on that?”

“Technically?” Stiles made a face. “I mean it hurts but I’m on a shit ton of meds so it balances out. Doc says I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Normal for you anyway.”

“Asshole.”

“How long is no time?”

Stiles waves vaguely, apparently to indicate some length of time at the end of which he would be healed and ready to return to normal everyday activities. Like being in the FBI and fighting with and against the supernatural.

“More importantly.” Stiles fixed Derek with a stern look, his body suddenly still and focussed. “What is going on in Beacon Hills?”

What happened to I’m in the FBI, we have surveillance, Derek thought. He didn’t say it out loud though, going off on another tangent would do them no good when he should be leaving as soon as possible. Whether Stiles was coming with him or not.

Instead, Derek told Stiles what he knew: Kate had been searching for yellow wolfsbane — which Derek thought at the time she would use as a cure for Gerard, but she’d told him instead would be used as a weapon against Scott. He hadn’t had time to get much from Chris before going after Kate, but it sounded like some serious shit was going down. Not that it ever wasn’t — this was Beacon Hills — but this felt bigger. Not some lone Alpha or small group out to get revenge — something much more dangerous. Derek just wasn’t sure what it was.

By the end of the explanation, Stiles was still in shock that Scott hadn’t left Beacon Hills. He thought his best friend had left for college months ago. And after some internet stalking, it turned out that Lydia — now Stiles’ girlfriend apparently — had also chosen to stay in town, even though she’d had a full ride to MIT.

In the end, Stiles called his father for more details.

“Never thought I’d be calling my dad to check up on Scott.” Stiles grimaced as the phone rang. “Definitely always pictured it the other way around. Or that I’d be calling Melissa to check in on them both — hey, Dad! So, what’s up, what’s been going on and why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Stiles and Derek agreed that Beacon Hills — that Scott and Lydia and Chris and Melissa and apparently even the Sheriff needed their help. Stiles had a few days off from his internship to recover —

“Which means you should be using that time to recover, not mounting a rescue mission. What did the doctor actually say — bedrest?”

“Oh, shut up. You at least need someone to drive the getaway car.”

“Can you even drive missing a toe?”

“Shut up!”

They had their bags in the back of Derek’s Camaro and were on the road within an hour. Derek didn’t press too hard. Obviously Stiles was going back with him, that was never really a question.

…

They drove in silence, which surprised Derek, he thought Stiles would try to fill the space with random chatter. He did, occasionally, but mostly he seemed content to gaze out the window and watch the world go by. Something about the silence was comfortable, and Derek felt effortlessly anchored in a way he hadn’t since… he wasn’t sure when. He wondered when that had started, when Stiles became safety for him. Maybe it was something that grew out of necessity, and solidified every time Stiles saved him, and he saved Stiles back. They’d come to rely on each other for that feeling of safety, of having someone at your back. Derek hadn’t thought he’d needed that when he left Beacon Hills, but he realized now that he missed it. If you’d asked him back when they’d first met, Derek never in a million years would have pegged Stiles as the one he could count on time and time again, but here they were. He glanced over at Stiles in the passenger seat, watched him for a moment before Stiles looked over and made eye contact. He looked different than Derek remembered. Older. Sharper. More confident. Less spastic. Settled.

“What?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

Derek shook his head. “Nothing, just. You look good.”

Stiles’ other eyebrow joined the first. “I’m running on about four hours sleep in the past forty-eight hours, lost a toe, am on massive amounts of medication for said toe, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t showered since the last time I slept.”

“In that case, you look incredible.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked away to stare out the windows again.

Derek chuckled, then said in a softer voice, “I mean it, though. Getting out of Beacon Hills was good for you. You look good, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced back over, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Back at you big guy. But, hey, it’s you. You always look good.”

Now it was Derek’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Seriously.” Stiles shifted in his seat so his knees were aimed towards the driver’s seat. “I’ve never met anyone who could have their guts rioted out and still manage to look like they could be on the cover of a swimsuit magazine. Well, a zombie swimsuit mag. Disembowelled quarterly.” Stiles snickered. “I used to have the biggest crush on you, you know.”

Derek blinked. He had not, in fact, known. He had known that Stiles had a crush on Lydia. Which had obviously never gone away considering the two of them were now dating. He hadn’t even known Stiles was interested in guys. When had it started? Shouldn’t he have noticed — if not on a personal level, Stiles would have given some other indication that he could have picked up on. Especially when they were in such close proximity. Like in the pool. Or at the sheriff’s station, with the Kanima and Matt. To be fair, those had been highly stressful situations. But he’d always thought Stiles was especially easy to read. Tracking him when the Nogistune shit had gone down proved that. Something would have slipped through, did Derek just not notice?

“We’re at the point in our relationship where I can tell you these things,” Stiles said.

“Literally,” Derek muttered.

“I’ve decided.” Stiles nodded. “It’s not awkward, we’re chill, we’re different people, we’ve grown up — don’t lie, you have too — but oh my god I do not want to know what you thought about me when I was sixteen.”

Derek smirked and glanced away from the road to give Stiles a once-over. “You know, now that you mention it, not much has changed, actually.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles said cheerfully.

Derek laughed.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. “It’s weird. Looking back, all the signs are so obvious now, but I didn’t realize liking guys was even a possibility — for me — until someone pointed it out to my face. And then I have to go and wonder if that ever even happened or if I was just out of my mind at the time with, well you know. Doesn’t matter either way I guess.”

“I don’t know,” Derek said. “I think my life was pretty much normal, except for my mom dealing with the occasional pack thing. Until I was fifteen.”

“With Paige.”

Derek blinked again. “Who?”

“Paige?” Stiles glanced at him and kept going when Derek just stared back blankly. “Your high school girlfriend? Got bitten by Ennis? But the Bite didn’t take and she died? Or you killed her, maybe? I’m not entirely sure, Peter was pretty unclear, and I’m pretty sure he was bullshitting most of it.”

“Peter told you about this? This Paige?”

“Yeah, why? Sorry, I guess it’s pretty personal.”

Derek wasn’t sure what his face looked like just then. He was confused, trying not to laugh, and not sure if he wanted to laugh at the same time. Who even understood why Peter said what he said. And when would he have even told Stiles this? What would have been the point?

“Derek?”

Derek looked over at Stiles. “I don’t know anyone named Paige.”

“Right… I mean, not anymore I guess? Since she died?” Stiles winced.

“No, Stiles. I do not, and have never known anyone named Paige.”

Stiles opened his mouth, then closed it again, eyebrows furrowing. “So this story Peter told me about you and your high school girlfriend…”

“Never happened.”

There was silence in the jeep once more, Stiles staring out the windshield into the middle distance. Derek made sure to keep his eyes on the road, so they wouldn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.

“Fuck, Cora is gonna be pissed.”

…

“Get your feet off the dash.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s leather and I said so. It’s my car.”

“It’s a stolen car. See, this is why Roscoe is superior —”

“Like you would ever let anyone put their feet up in your precious Jeep.”

…

After a few hours, they decided to stop at a motel for the night. Stiles offered to keep driving while Derek slept, and then they could trade off when Stiles got too tired, but Derek argued that they were both exhausted since neither of them had slept since the FBI raid on the hunters last night. On Derek, Stiles pointed out, and Derek ignored him in favour of pulling into the motel parking lot.

They stayed up longer than they should, talking, both of them exhausted but neither quite ready for sleep. They took turns in the bathroom and lay down on their backs in separate beds, staring at the ceiling. Stiles talked more about Malia and how weird and unhealthy that relationship was for both of them, how he should have handled it better, should have taken it upon himself to make sure both parties were enthusiastically and verbally consenting to everything instead of just following their twin horny virginal instincts. Especially with all the talks he got from his dad, the Sheriff, growing up, plus the fact that Malia spent so much of her life as a coyote and clearly wouldn’t know about these things.

Derek talked about Kate, how it was so strange after all these years to be tracking her down to prevent her from committing further evil. How it felt a little like atonement, and at the same time like something he should have done years ago. How he didn’t blame himself for everything that had happened in his life, not anymore, at least not all the time. How he was trying, and a lot of the time was successful, to be better, and happier, and how a lot of that had to do with seeing his mom — with her claws in his neck on the ends of Peter’s fingers. Of course there were still slip-ups, still moments where he blamed himself for Kate, for Peter, for Laura, for Jennifer, but he was able to catch himself more and more. But he told Stiles he knew he was getting better. He was healing.

He looked over at Stiles to find eyes turned towards him, shining with emotion.

“Good for you, dude,” Stiles whispered. “I’m happy for you.”

It sounded a hell of a lot like I’m proud of you and I hope I get there myself, someday.

…

“Are you looking forward to seeing Scott,” Derek asked once they were back on the road.

“Under once again life or death circumstances?” Stiles’ eyes stayed trained out the window, on the endless trees rushing past. “Not particularly. In general, yeah, obviously, that’s not even a question.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Scott outside of life or death circumstances.”

Stiles laughed. “Fair enough. So are you looking forward to seeing him, then?”

“I am. He’s done well for himself. He’s a good alpha.” A true alpha, at that. Derek knew the stories, knew of the existence of true alphas. His mother had known one, he thought, but he always assumed they were so rare that he would never meet anyone who could achieve alpha status by sheer force of will. But if anyone could do it… well, Stiles could probably do it if he were a wolf.

Stiles snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

Derek’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “You don’t think so?”

“I think he’s doing as well as he can for someone barely out of high school with no idea what he’s doing. But, and okay I love Scott, alright, but he can be a little… I mean he obviously isn’t learning from past mistakes if he’s deliberately keeping us out of the loop.”

Ah. So it was a jealousy thing. Stiles didn’t like feeling left out, even if it was for his own safety. Typical. Derek grinned. “Keeping you out of the loop, you mean.”

“I’m assuming they only tracked you down in the eleventh hour when Scott realized he couldn’t do it all by himself. Actually, it probably wasn’t even Scott’s idea. True alpha or not, Chris, Melissa, and my dad aren’t his underlings or whatever. And Chris is the one who found you, wasn’t he?”

“And you think that was Chris Argent’s idea. To come find me.”

“Hey, I thought you guys worked past your shit, on some level. And I’m not saying Scott’s a bad alpha. He’s doing surprisingly well, but he’s not gonna be winning any best-alpha-of-all-time awards any time soon.”

That was rather unfair. Doing the best you could is all anyone can do. And what the fuck was this ‘surprisingly well’ bullshit. Derek glared at the road. “He’s better than I was.”

Stiles just shrugged. “You would’ve figured it out eventually.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Stiles turned in his seat so his body was angled towards Derek. “I mean it. You had a rough start. Made some… pretty questionable decisions. But all in all, I think if things had calmed down a bit and you’d had time to find your footing, you would’ve been good at it. There was a reason you chose who you did for your pack, and not just because they’d say yes. In different circumstances, you would’ve been good for them. You could’ve been good for each other.”

Derek didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing, and they lapsed back into comfortable-ish silence. Until Stiles reached over to switch on the radio and accidentally flipped it on at full volume and Derek nearly swerved off the road.

…

They left around noon the morning after the FBI raid. They could’ve flown, except Stiles was supposed to be on bed rest probably in a special FBI hospital somewhere, and Derek was still on a bunch of no-fly watchlists or something, and it was gonna take a while for bureaucracy to come through and sort that out. So driving it was.

Neither of them particularly minded. Yes, they were in a hurry to get back to Beacon Hills to rescue everyone, but they weren’t in a huge hurry to get there and die, so it was nice to take a few days to drive quietly rather than taking a plane. The only time Derek’d been on one was when he followed Laura back to Beacon Hills when she went missing, and he hated it, for so many reasons, so he had no desire for a repeat experience. He expected Stiles to complain about being cooped up and immobile all day, but he found ways to entertain himself, and Derek, and it was peaceful to travel together. Like it was a real road trip with no particular goal in mind, rather than a dangerous rescue mission.

“It’s always a dangerous rescue mission,” Stiles sighed. “One day I’m gonna go on a road trip for real.”

“You’d like it.” Derek nodded. That’s basically what he was doing when he left with Braeden, before he joined back up with Cora, and then Kate and the other hunters had to go and kill a neighbouring pack and Derek just couldn’t leave it alone.

Stiles asked and Derek told him about travelling with Braeden, about trying to help her with her vendetta with the desert wolf, because it was nice to help out with someone else’s vendetta you had no personal investment in for a change. About splitting off to go visit Cora when he realized he could, which didn’t take long but took longer than it should have for him to realize.

After six hours driving on the first day, with both of them exhausted from lack of sleep, they’d stopped at the motel, and decided to forgo one the next night and drive straight through. They drove fifteen hours before Stiles finally gave up and admitted he shouldn’t be driving yet with his toe, and pulled over to the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. They made it ten hours the next day, and they could’ve kept driving — it was only another six to Beacon Hills — but by the time they got there it would be three in the morning and they’d be completely useless.

This was Derek’s thought process when they left the diner they stopped at for dinner, and instead of getting back on the road he pulled into a motel parking lot. Stiles didn’t say anything, so he must have been thinking something similar. Or maybe something more like if I have to sit in this goddamn car another minute I am seriously going to murder someone, going by the way he’d been squirming for the last few hours in the passenger seat.

They were quiet as the got out and crossed the parking lot, heading for the front desk together. Derek didn’t say anything as Stiles requests a room and the woman behind the desk handed over the keys. They stayed up late talking again and slept in the next morning before a lazy breakfast at the same diner as last night.

Derek didn’t want it to end. What would happen when they rejoined the others, and then after when Stiles went back to the FBI and Derek went… somewhere. Else. He didn’t really have anywhere to be. No one needed him. No one wanted him. But he liked this, whatever this was with Stiles right now. It was nice to feel connected to another person, to share the space in a way that’s easy and comfortable. He didn’t want to let go of it just yet.

He had to, of course. They made it back to Beacon Hills and —

“Oh my god, pull over!” Stiles was already undoing his seatbelt.

“What? What is it?” Derek pulled the car over and Stiles leapt out of the passenger seat before they’d fully rolled to a stop.”Stiles!”

Derek got out of the car to follow him and his eyes narrowed when he saw the only possible thing on the block Stiles could be running towards. He took off down the road and reached the jeep at the same time Stiles did.

“They’re not here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Derek tensed. “Stiles. Tell me you did not just jump out of a moving car because you saw your jeep parked on the side of the road.”

“Parked! Abandoned, is more like it! What has Scott been doing to my baby, you’re obviously not being used to your full potential.” Stiles smoothed his hand along the hood of the jeep and Derek frowned.

No, he was already frowning. Now he was scowling. “Stiles! Give me one good reason why we just stopped five minutes away from where everyone needs us before I drag your ass back in the car.”

“Because my jeep is awesome and it has survived way more than your Camaro 1.0 ever did, and it comes with a built-in radio and weapons stash in the back, AND, like I said before, Scott is obviously not using Roscoe to his full potential, seeing as he’s left him abandoned by the side of the road, Derek.”

Derek took a deep breath to remind himself that Stiles is a human, Stiles wouldn’t recover if Derek smashed his face through the window of his precious jeep, and he wouldn’t forgive Derek for the damage either.

Wait — was that?

Derek took another breath in through his nose. Yeah, that was Scott alright, and close.

“We’re close,” he told Stiles, and took off running in that direction.

“Wait — Derek!”

He heard Stiles scramble for his keys and stumble into the jeep before the engine ground to life and the car started after him. Derek veered down an alley and a second later the jeep followed. Almost there.

Then suddenly the jeep was passing him, and Stiles was waving and calling “later, sucker!” Before turning the next corner and slamming to a halt.

Derek jogged up alongside it and there was Scott — and everybody. They said their hellos: Derek hugged Scott and Stiles hugged Lydia, and everything immediately went to shit.

No one died this time. Well, no one Derek cared about. They stop the Anuk Ite, but the hunters were still on the warpath, and they were setting up a global network. Derek headed back to South America to make sure Cora was safe, and warn the packs down there about what’s going on. Jackson and Ethan went back to Europe with Chris to meet up with Isaac. Scott called Kira’s parents in New York and they promised to spread the word there and make sure Kira was safe as well.

Scott and his pack tracked the hunters, stepping in when they went after someone. The younger ones stayed in Beacon Hills — they still had to finish high school — while Scott and Malia travelled the country. Lydia went to school and Stiles went back to the FBI, but they came running to the rescue whenever they could.

Stiles and Derek stayed in touch. Derek got a phone and gave Stiles his number, which opened the floodgates for communication. Stiles texted him constantly, random thoughts and observations, about nothing in particular, and Derek found himself smiling as the words echoed through his head in Stiles’ voice. …

A few months later Derek was back in the country, helping Scott track down this one young werewolf the hunters were after. Stiles and Lydia showed up in Stiles’ jeep — which he’d taken back from Scott when he went back to his internship, claiming he needed a way to come to the rescue if Derek and his Camaro weren’t gonna be around.

They got the kid into hiding, and ended up at an all-night diner, catching up before they had to go their separate ways again. There was only one booth big enough for all of them, and Stiles slid in next to Derek, while Lydia wound up on the other side of the table next to Malia. Everyone relaxed, catching up, smiling and laughing even though they were all exhausted. They weren’t any closer to stopping the hunters, who seemed to grow in number every day. They were getting worn out, all of them, and this was only the beginning, Derek could tell. More than once he’d considered just taking off again, going into hiding, to live in the woods by himself to get a break from all this. But when he looked around the table at his friends, his family, his pack, and he knew he could never leave them again. Even if they weren’t always in the same place, he would never abandon them.

As the conversations turned to other things, people breaking off into couples and smaller groups to chat, Derek turned to Stiles. Stiles asked about Cora, and South America, and Derek asked about the FBI and Lydia. All stuff they’ve talked about before, briefly, over text, except when Derek brought up Lydia Stiles gives him a weird look and says,

“We broke up.”

Derek frowned. Stiles never mentioned anything about that. He would have remembered.

“Yeah, we realized it just wasn’t working out, neither of us was really as invested as we thought we’d be, and we’re better off as friends.” Stiles shrugged. “I think I’ll always love her, but I’m not in love with her anymore, you know?”

Derek didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. The only time he thought he’d been in love before… well. It certainly wasn’t what he felt for her now, and he didn’t want to think too hard about it, honestly.

“It was definitely mutual,” Stiles continued, apparently not needing any actual input from Derek at this point in the conversation. “And I think it’s been heading that way for a while. I don’t know about Lydia, but I, well there’s someone else.”

Derek swallowed and looked away. Of course. Of course Stiles would already be moving on to his next relationship, it was a wonder he’d been single for so much of high school. Despite his personality. Derek glanced at him and looked away. “Think you’ll have more luck dating in the FBI rather than high school?”

Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fat chance. Wouldn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t work there. And I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

Derek looked up again to see Stiles peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow slightly raised in question, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Was he…? Maybe? Derek cleared his throat and smirked back. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Stiles’ smile widened and he turned his gaze back to his plate, poking at the few remaining curly fries. “Yeah?”

Derek relaxed back in his seat, letting his arm draped across the back of the booth behind Stiles. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Stiles glanced up at him and straightened. “Okay, maybe I will.”

“Good. You should.”

Stiles took a deep breath and then slumped forward suddenly, his head thunking down on the table. “Oh my god, Derek, would you please just answer my non-question so I don’t have to embarrass myself by actually asking!”

Derek put a hand over his face to hide his smile, and hopefully stop himself from laughing. “I’m sorry, what question is that?”

Stiles sat back up angrily and Derek quirked an amused eyebrow at him.

And of course that was when the rest of the table erupted with laughter and whatever Stiles had been about to say was drowned out. They held each other’s gazes for a while longer, but the moment was broken and they turned back to the rest of the group. Derek left his arm where it was as Stiles sat back in his seat. As the night wore on they drew closer, Derek’s hand brushing Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles’ knee bumping against Derek’s under the table.

Afterwards, Derek walked Stiles to his jeep and leaned on the hood while Stiles unlocked the doors.

“You know, DC isn’t too far from here,” Stiles said. He wasn’t looking at Derek, focussing intently on fitting the keys into the door.

“I’ve never been,” Derek said.

Stiles looked up at him. “I could show you around. If you wanted to come visit.”

“I’d like that.” Derek smiled.

Stiles nodded. He turned to open the door, then abruptly turned back. “As a date. I’m asking you on a date.”

“Oh. Yeah. I thought… maybe you were.”

Stiles kept nodding. “Good. Okay. Still a yes?”

“Yeah. Still a yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

He leaned in suddenly and kissed Derek. Both their eyes were open and they stared at each other, and then Stiles was back where he’d been a second ago and opening the door of the jeep before Derek could react.

“Great, okay. Text me when you’re in town. Or before. Like don’t wait until you’re in town to text me but, you know.”

Derek shoved off the jeep, nodding as Stiles turned the key and threw it into gear, driving away before Derek had even caught his breath enough to speak again.

When he turned around everyone was staring at him. They didn’t look shocked though. Smug Derek thought. He ignored them and walked over to his own car, not bothering to give Scott a wave before he drove off. He didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, so he turned in the direction a certain jeep had gone.

Now was as good a time as any to visit DC.

#gryvon #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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crying-gay-tears · 5 years

Text

Man to Man

The air in Leorio’s fancy high rise office was stuffy. A huge mahogany desk rested in the center of the room, it’s top laden with scattered papers, odd looking trinkets, and a few picture frames holding some familiar smiling faces. The walls were lined with tall, matching mahogany book shelves, boasting an extensive medical encyclopedia collection.

Gon sat in a squishy chair that was parked in front of the desk, waiting patiently as Leorio fumbled with his coffee pot. He laughed to himself when the older man let out a quiet stream of profanities followed by a loud “AH-HA!!” The sound of the machine percolating followed. With a hot cup of coffee in hand, Leorio walked over to the two leather arm chairs facing the window, and motioned for Gon to join him. “The view is nicer over here” he said with a light smile, gesturing towards the huge window. Yorknew city bustled below them, the setting sun enveloped the world outside, casting everything into an orange glow. “Now,” Leorio peeked at Gon over his glasses while he blew steam off of his coffee, “what did you want to talk about?” Gon looked up at him, eyes round and bright. He swallowed nervously and glanced down at his feet before starting. “Well-“ Leorio held up a single finger. “Gon, I’m your close friend, there’s no need to be embarrassed or nervous. We can talk, man to man! Now, look me in the eye, and tell me what’s on your mind!” He squeezed his eyes shut, and with a deep breath and furrowed brow, opened them again, amber orbs now shining with resolve. “Leorio, I want to know about sex!” He blurted out, cheeks on fire and mouth dry. Leorio sputtered, spilling coffee onto his pristine white button down. This was a shock for sure! Gon was at that age, he supposed, but Leorio felt out of depth for this conversation. Why couldn’t Gon just talk to his d—his thoughts stopped in their tracks, he suddenly remembered Ging and wished very much that he could punch him again. Harder this time. His son was here, needing guidance! And where was that sorry excuse for a parent? Who knew?! Damned vagabond. Well, it is what it is, and Leorio was a doctor after all, aside from Gon being his dear friend, this was also his duty as a medical professional. After taking a second to regain his composure, he finally spoke, “Gon, you’re really growing up!” His loud exclamation was followed with a hand reaching over to tousle a patch of black spiky hair. Gon saw a tear glint in his eye. “Does this mean you like someone??” He pressed, shooting a wry smile and leaning over to elbow Gon slightly in the ribs. “Well out with it! Who’s the lucky lady, eh?” Gon’s face was deep red. “I-it...w-well, it’s not...” the boy trailed off, reaching an arm up to rub at the back of his neck. This was harder than he thought it would be. Leorio seemed to understand and took some pity on him. “Don’t worry, Gon. I won’t make you tell me. This talk is embarrassing enough without also having to talk about your crush!” He sipped his coffee before starting again. “Gon, you’re growing up, and with getting older comes new feelings and urges” —Gon cringed— “that may be tough to understand. The most important thing when you’re trying to navigate this new territory is to always be safe! Sex is a wonderful and powerful thing, but sex without safety measures is just dumb!” Gon’s adrenaline was rushing and his heart was fluttering in his chest. “What safety measures?” He asked, voice almost a whisper. “Ah! Good question!” The tall man quickly walked to his desk and rummaged through one of its many drawers. He fished out something small and walked back over to Gon. Taking a seat, he passed the foil square to him. “Do you know what that is?” He quirked an eyebrow at the mortified looking teen. “No... What is it?” “That is a condom. Whenever you want to have sex, you should always use one of those! It keeps you and your lady safe from diseases and unwanted pregnancy!” Gon’s face fell. “O-oh. Okay.” Leorio felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He knew what that disappointment was. “I know you may be thinking it feels better without a condom, but the risk just isn’t worth it! One day you might meet a nice woman and settle down, and you two decide together th—“ “Leorio?” “Eh?” He was a little surprised by the interruption. “I want...” Gon cleared his throat. “I want to know about sex with... boys.” Oh. Oh!! Leorio’s eyes grew wide, a new wave of understanding washing over him. Images of a pale, silver haired teen suddenly flashed through his mind. Everything made much more sense now. Gon, looking mortified, continued. “Aunt Mito talked to me about the birds and the bees a long time ago, but she never went into details. Now that I’m older, I need to know more, so I came to you. I really appreciate you giving me details, I just want to make sure they’re...the /right/ details. I don’t want to mess up or-or do something wrong...” Gon hung his head to hide his blush. His slightly upturned nose was now pointing down at the carpeted floor while his hands fidgeted in his lap. Leorio, still a little lost in thought, shook his head to clear it. “Gon. I appreciate your honesty, and so I’ll be honest in return when I say I don’t have much...er- personal experience in this department. But I can still go over the basics with you, and I can also get some helpful pamphlets from work to give to you. The clinic I work for has got tons of informational pamphlets, I’ll snag two for you in case Ki—“ he stopped himself abruptly. “In case you need an extra.” Gon hadn’t missed this, as was evident from the deepened blush now rising to the tips of his ears. “Let’s go over the mechanics now, eh?” Leorio quickly backpedaled. After a long and awkward talk that involved rolling a condom onto the banana Leorio happened to have in his lunchbox—“Gon! You’re in luck! I ran out of apples this morning!”— Leorio finally stood. “Wait here for a bit, I’ll take the elevator down to the main floor where the clinic is and I’ll bring some stuff back for you.” Gon, still sitting with pink tinged cheeks, nodded a confirmation before he head out the door. Gon’s brain was working in overdrive, trying to process all of the new information he had just received, on top of all the new feelings said information had stirred up. Thoughts of condoms, lube, and a certain blue eyed boy were flashing through his mind as he stared blankly out the window at a darkening sky dotted with city lights. He must’ve been truly lost in thought, as he didn’t even notice Leorio return until a hand was on his shoulder, and a small cellophane bag was being placed onto his lap. “There ya go Gon! It’s your ‘Becoming A Man’ Starter Kit. That should be everything you need. For now, at least. There’s pamphlets, some lube, and some condoms. Make sure you practice putting them on! I can’t tell you how embarrassing it is when you’re in the moment and you can’t figure the damn thing out—” Gon stood abruptly, legs shaky, and threw his arms around his friend. “Thank you, Leorio!” He gave a tight squeeze before letting go. “I appreciate all of your help. I didn’t know who else to go to-“ a long finger wagging in the air cut him off. “Now, now! No need to thank me, I’m your friend, Gon. That’s what I’m here for! Not to mention, this was good practice for me! I am a doctor after all, if I couldn’t handle this, I would’ve needed to turn my license in!” The man laughed. Gon looked up at him with a huge smile. “You’re a great friend, and a great doctor Leorio!” He exclaimed, shooting him a thumbs up. Gon could swear he saw another tear in the corner of Leorio’s eye as he returned the thumbs up. “Ah, well. Thank you Gon. I’m glad you think so! Now, off you go! I’ve got some stuff to check on down stairs and you’ve got some practicing to do!” Gon let out an exasperated groan, and Leorio laughed boisterously as they walked out of the office together.

#hunter x hunter #h x h #gon #gon freecss #leorio #leorio paladiknight #fanfiction #killugon #killua zoldyck #killua

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jj-ktae · 5 years

Text

Game Seven : Missing

Title : Survival Games Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x You (reader) Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul. Words : 4792

Go to my masterlist for previous chapters!

Game Seven : Missing

“You’re alive! I thought you were dead, I thought I’d never see you again!” Timothy didn’t waste any time and pulled you out of the beach so you could both talk. He looks overwhelmed, shocked, but mostly happy to see you before him, healthy and breathing.

You’re stuck, shock getting the best of you and blocking any kind of reaction. You don’t know how to speak anymore, mouth shut and eyes wide. You let your boyfriend grab your shoulder, his eyes moist.

“Are you okay? Where were you all this time?” He shoots questions, not even caring about your initial shock. He lifts a hand to let it rest on your cheek. “I’m so relieved, Y/N.”

You lift your head, gaze landing on his overwhelmed face. Only one thing crosses your mind, one thought, just one little thing which makes you opaque to any sort of feelings.  You had completely forgot about Timothy.

You don’t know how it happened since it’s not like you don’t love him at all. It all became natural, his missing presence not a problem as the days passed but you can’t find an answer as to how it happened.

Of course you’re glad he is alive. He looks healthy, fine even.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Timothy presses, messy and hurried. He looks mostly relieved but also freaked out, a little bit too shaky.

Like he saw a ghost.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head lightly, brain almost hitting your skull and sorting your thoughts. You have to speak, even though you’re at a loss of words. “I woke up on the beach, I was found by Taeyong and we kind of survived until he…” you stop. Timothy has no idea about who Taeyong is and you might not want to explain in details what happened.

The latter tilts his head, blinking. “Taeyong?” he pauses, “Oh, the guy who almost died?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. You don’t want to think about how he almost died. “Yeah, that boy.”

Timothy smiles, relieved yet in need of more information. “And then? How did you survive? How did that kid got himself so hurt he almost died?” He asks too many questions; he wants to know things you don’t want to share. “oh wait,” He gets up before you can tell him to drop the subject and comes back with your worn-out luggage, torn and dirty from the plane crash. “I kept it with me in case you’d come back.”

He gets up again and grabs a folded piece of clothing. “There, eat something. It’s my personal stock.” A banana falls right on top of your luggage and you snort, putting it aside to inspect your belongings.

Timothy doesn’t seem to be tired or starving. He is the same man, with his oval face and huge eyes. He has food, his own belongings and was doing just fine while you almost lost your mind. You can’t speak right now so you move your head, doing your best not to sound suspicious because you know he would never let it drop if he ever discovered your uneasiness.

This is how Timothy is. He has a temper he needs to control and speaks his mind freely. You like people like him who can speak for themselves and defend their choices. He isn’t the quiet, shy type who observes. He acts before he can think of a plan and regrets nothing.

That’s why you don’t even blink when he adds, “I kept food, personal supplies and medication here, just for me. Put it back there if you ever grab something okay?”

Of course he would do that.

But today you’re not in the mood. You blame your newly found conscience on the unusual situation and you can’t keep quiet anymore. “Why can’t we share?”

Timothy sounds bewildered when he scoffs, like he can’t understand you and your stupid logic. He kneels in front of you and looks around before lowering his voice. “It’s survival, Y/N. You need to think about yourself first. Everyone wants to share and we end up with tiny pieces of food. I went to the forest and worked my ass off to feed people who don’t even try to help?”

You know how Timothy functions so you don’t find his behaviour shocking. He cares about his comfort and is a strong believer of the ‘You only get what you deserve’ motto. It’s no surprise that he wouldn’t want to feed everyone here or would at least keep more for himself because he considers he worked harder than the others.

But you don’t understand why he would start bullshitting you when you just reunited. He looks so obsessed, like he is already over the fact that he found you and is already complaining about how things don’t go the way he wants.

You let him speak, frustrated but not caring enough to explain the situation. There’s nothing you can say anyways.

You’re supposed to be the exact same type of person.

Before the plane crash you would have agreed. You would have found him wonderful for being able to provide for others yet you’d strongly nod at the ‘you can’t take care of the laziest’ part. It’s true, after all. If you want to survive don’t count on others.

Then you think about Taeyong. You think about how useless you were and how he destroyed his health because he had to take care of someone else.

And you can only sigh when Timothy leans against you to hug your disturbed self.

You fall asleep that night, wondering how on earth you can’t be happy when you reunited with the one person who was supposed to grow old and die next to you.

Life is different. It’s the only statement you can make when Solene asks about Timothy and your happy couple life. She doesn’t tag along as much as she used to which you noticed. You also discover that people aren’t keen on staying around Timothy so you often end up alone with him, by the sea or laying down. The few people he talks to are men around his age, all eager to fly from that island and sharing the same thought on how everyone is so stupid and commanding.

You don’t know what to do with yourself most of the time, your boyfriend busy running around in hope to grab more food that he hides, proud of himself. You let him be, not finding it in yourself to tell him to stop.

But he is a damn bastard and you don’t know if the situation turned him into one of if he has always been that way.

You barely see Taeyong, who seems to be hiding in the jungle most of the time. You often see Doyoung, walking around and giving medication to everyone who needs it and his other friends seem to be helping around quite a lot.

That Johnny boy is always checking the fire and cooking tons of fish while another one of their friends, a built guy with a way too delicate face, brings huge pieces of wood. You see women peeling fruits and sewing clothes, boys bringing shellfishes and everyone else cohabit with little to no problem. They all seem to enjoy helping each other, glad they have someone to reciprocate their good deeds. Everyone seem to have at least one talent, one thing they share around the community.

And then there’s your boyfriend, his friends and you. You feel isolated, selfish and arrogant for not sticking around everyone else. You have plenty of food stored behind piles of luggage, a lot of toiletries and even medications you’re quite sure you didn’t bring.

Eventually you try to tag along, greeting Solene who is trying to open a coconut with too little success.

“Need help with that?” You propose, hands reaching for the intact coconut but she stops you, her smile tight and face blank. “I’m not the best but I can give it a try.”

“I can manage just fine, thank you.” Her tone is icy, freezing you from the inside and you don’t know what exactly you did wrong for her to react that way. It’s true you’ve been distant for the past week but it’s not like you don’t want to be around the others.

It’s actually the opposite.

You let your arms go limp by your sides, defeated. Solene sends you one last awkward look and walks away, running toward one of the men near the fire to ask for help right in front of you.

Great, the whole island hates you, now. You sit on the tree trunk she was using to smash the coconut, a tired hand rubbing your face.

“Are you okay?”

You raise your heavy head to meet a puzzled Taeyong. He waves swiftly and sits next to you, the same tired sigh leaving his parted lips and when you don’t answer, he chuckles “You don’t look okay.”

“Is it that obvious?” You demand, pulling your legs to your chest and leaning your head against them. “Are you feeling better?”

Taeyong hums, leaning against a spared tree. “Doyoung says I’m getting there.” He is the same quiet guy, the one who speaks only when necessary yet he doesn’t make the situation awkward, even though you both know he has been avoiding you like the plague.

You glance at his feet, moving on the sandy ground, quietly. He looks like a kid.

“Everyone hate us.” You confess, not knowing why but feeling better as soon as the words left your lips.

Taeyong waits for you to add something but he only sees your back. You’re busy watching the beach in front of you, kind of unhappy but mostly frustrated by the situation.

He coughs, not knowing how to handle an upset you after all this time. “I don’t think they do.” Taeyong doesn’t really pay attention to these things. He has no interest for what happens between people and mostly focuses on helping around and bring food. He shares his knowledge with everyone who want to listen and goes to sleep when the sun sets. He eats when he is hungry and chit-chats with his friends. It’s pretty much all he does.

He heard about these guys who stay on their own but never paid attention to what people said about it. He only saw how Solene avoided you and ran away, which made him approach you even though he promised himself he would stay away from you.

“It’s because you don’t pay attention to all the drama.” You murmur, raising your head to look at him. Your body moves to the side so you can face him and his face suddenly looks so serene and perfectly shaped.

He stares back, unbothered. It’s silent for a while, Taeyong not breaking the staring contest and even adding a soft. “You look healthier.”

Your smile is so discreet yet Taeyong doesn’t miss it and shakes his head, his inner self screaming at him to run away before he starts spitting nonsense.

“I’m glad you survived.” You hear voices and notice Timothy from afar, talking to his friends. “Thank you for taking care of me all this time, Taeyong.” You get up and stretch before walking toward a curious Timothy.

He is looking at Taeyong when you reach his level and he doesn’t look at you when you stop in front of him. “What were you doing?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing his arm to pull him away from the beach. “Just chatting.”

You don’t see how intense Taeyong’s gaze is as he watches the two of you leave.

He gets up when you disappear into the wild and cracks his neck. What a plot twist.

He is glad he found his friends. He never imagined them to be alive after all this time. He was convinced of their death until his health made him black out. Ever since that near-death experience, he feels lighter knowing they are by his side but still, while he should keep on living and do as if nothing happened, he can’t stay put.

He definitely can’t stay put when he has no one to take care of anymore.

It’s not like he is used to this. He knew nothing about how it feels to be of any use to someone. Taeyong had no idea about what it would feel to be responsible for one’s life, let alone provide for all their needs.

He never thought he’d feel so empty once it stopped.

Doyoung told him to stop thinking about this. He explained it was normal for people during survival, that they would all cling to whatever makes them feel alive and not be able to let it go.

He talked about coping mechanisms or something like that.

But Taeyong knows it’s not only about dealing with a merciless island. He might not know a lot about such subtle things, but he can feel it’s not only about psychology. It all comes back jumping right onto his face when he sees you walk away with Timothy.

He misses being around you.

If Taeyong had to explain how he started feeling this way, he would say it is all because of the situation. Nothing had prepared him to crash on a deserted island and even less being around a girl he met there. It all came naturally though. He started providing food and knowledge to make the situation bearable and keep the girl healthy, it then turned into something he didn’t do because he had to, but because he wanted to and it ended in a relationship of mutual trust and moral support in the middle of nowhere.

Taeyong knows it changed along the days, from a mere encounter to a necessity. Sleeping next to you became a habit which made him sleep at ease, sharing food became comfortable and undressing next to each other felt natural but even more than these, he had to discover how it feels to have someone take care of him. He had to grasp the whole concept of being dependant and have someone treat his wounds.

He had never felt so important to someone’s eyes and he discovered it as he was slowly getting worse and worse, in that forest. He never had anyone cry for his sake, hug him, comfort him when in pain.

So far he was the only one dealing with such intense feelings in a poor attempt to keep living a life he regretted too many things about. It’s exactly when he saw the tears prick in your eyes and your shaking hands on his skin that he understood it was going beyond a mere alliance against survival.

It’s only logical for him to feel weird now, as he often sees you walking around, an unwanted hand around your waist and a guy close to you. He isn’t mad at the situation for he has no right to, but he has trouble dealing with this.

Fortunately, he is used to have good things snatched from him before he could even enjoy.

“You’re spacing out again.” Johnny is the only one who seems to understand what’s going on. Mark is always so oblivious to what happens around him, Doyoung has to deal with so many injuries and people going to him whenever they are in pain and Jaehyun is busy going around the jungle, revelling in the joy of hunting and disappearing for a couple of days along with the old men who are confident enough to follow his pace.

Taeyong refuses to have anyone follow him. He doesn’t want to have to deal with another lost soul and it’s better this way. He has poor social skills, can’t even keep a conversation and he is quite sure everyone here fears him.

After all, he is still the “guy who almost died”. He knows nothing about the people here and his days are more focused on getting food and making the camp more bearable. He uses his skills to craft a couple of furniture, his busy body walking around the beach to make the whole place friendlier but his face blank enough to keep anyone at a safe distance.

You included.

He sits, cracking his neck because he spent the night wriggling into his sleeping bag again, “I’m tired, that’s all.”

Johnny can only snort, his tall body bending to meet his friend’s bored face. “I saw you with the girl.” He sits and taps his friend’s knee. “I’m sure she misses you too. She doesn’t look too happy every time I see her.”

“That’s because her boyfriend is a bastard.” Doyoung’s firm voice startles them and they look toward the door where a busy soon-to-be doctor stands, exhausted. “I can’t stand that guy and his friends.”

Taeyong seems puzzled when Johnny glances at him, so he starts explaining. He knows his friend and how uninterested he is of such gossips. “That guy, Timothy, he doesn’t really care about the whole camp, you know. He spends his days with his minions, gathering food for them to eat only and refusing to help.”

“He is so damn annoying. I don’t know how you survived with that girl if she is the same as him. He should be thanking you for taking care of his girlfriend instead of acting all cocky. Like we care about the bananas he hides behind his luggage.” Doyoung looks offended, puffs of air blowing his hair up as he scoffs repeatedly. “Anyways, I’ll be back later, I have to check a couple of dressings I did yesterday.”

Johnny chuckles once his friend is out of sight, only to turn around toward a pensive Taeyong. “Don’t tell him you like that girl.”

Taeyong stops moving, his face turning into a tired glare that means ‘I’m going to beat you up if you say this one more time’ but Johnny merely shrugs, not the least bothered by the situation.

Taeyong hates how quick-witted his friend is, right now.

He keeps on living his life, though. He goes around the jungle, brings food and builds furniture, helps with the fire because he is the only one who can make it without using a match, sleeps more than necessary and even swims to get fish near the rocks when the waves allow it.

You do the same. It gets hard to deal with a tensed Timothy who is always complaining about how he doesn’t want to get involved with the rest of the survivors.

You try to be okay with it but one morning, as you had yet another sleepless night, he arrives, delighted.

“Let’s get out of here.”

You almost choke on the water you’ve been trying to gulp down. “What?”

Timothy leans against a tree, whispering in hurried words, both excited and scary. “We found a small boat near another beach. The guys said it’s brand new. We just need to pack some stuff and cross a part of the jungle. We’ll go tonight.” He doesn’t even listen to your protests, his feet now aiming for his friends who look like they came up with the most devilish plan ever.

You stay put, shocked yet frustrated to be left behind, like you can only follow to whatever plan is being built. You want to scream at Timothy for being so selfish, you want to expose their ass to everyone on this damn island but most importantly, you don’t want to go.

Not when Taeyong is still here, dealing with the harsh reality of a broken plane and a deserted island.

He did so much for you and is still doing his best for everyone else. You feel like the worst bitch, the one who took advantage of a situation only to escape on her own. You want to provide for everyone else too, to prove you can be of any use.

But as Timothy calls you from afar so you hurry up and start packing, you just want to wake up from this nightmare.

“If everyone’s ready, let’s go!” You hate the guy’s voice. He nudges the whole group because no one’s in sight and the path is clear. Timothy grabs your hand and pulls you next to him, his shoulder heavy with a huge bag of food like you’re going to stay on the sea for months.

You look one more time behind you toward the quiet camp, wondering why on earth are you even agreeing on doing this.

“Y/N, can you hurry up?” Timothy pulls you with more force, making you almost trip. You sigh, trying to catch up with the rest of the team and it’s pitch black now around you.

Everyone is cautious, eyes scanning the dark forest and peeking behind them. You know the sounds so well, you almost missed them. They’re a mixture of birds chirping and leaves dancing against each other. A couple of cracking noises make everyone go crazy and they run when they think danger is coming their way.

How pitiful.

“Never trust the sounds you hear.”

“So that we can get eaten alive by a tiger or something?”

Taeyong laughs, tightening his grip around you as the wind gets stronger. “So that you can fall asleep instead of freaking out all the time.”

It’s one of those nights when you can’t sleep and the wind is chilly, it’s a moment of calm among the chaos. Every day ends like this, with you and Taeyong against each other. He turns chattier during those nights and grabs the opportunity to tell you not to lose hope. He knows he will have to tell you the same thing tomorrow.

“How can you be so relaxed?” You look up from your spot against his chest. “It’s like we’re not about to die every day.”

Taeyong hums, a long sigh leaving his parted lips. “All I know is survival. I don’t think I can let myself die here, do you want to?”

You shiver at the thought, not keen on rotting in between the trees and vanishing in the nature.

Taeyong chuckles, wrapping his clothes tighter around you. “Thought so. I’ll try not to let us die, then.”

“It’s starting to rain, shit.” One of the guys pulls you out of your reverie as you all walk between the trees. It gets stronger and stronger as you dive into the forest, now surrounded by huge leaves.

“I can’t wait to get out of here…” Timothy whispers as he helps you step on a high rock. “I was only supposed to meet your parents.”

“Why are we running away from the others?” It’s the only thing you can think of. No matter how hard Timothy tries to be happy about the situation, you can’t seem to share the same interest and it shows on your face.

“Because it’s a small boat, we can’t take everyone out of here.” His tone is icy and face blank. You don’t know if he is being very selfish or caring about you.

You stop moving, parting from the rest of the group who is still walking. The rain makes it hard to hear, but even the pouring water can’t bother you. “I don’t think we should escape and let them die here.”

Timothy grunts and turns around. You know that look, it’s the one he gives you whenever you’re being what he calls ‘too much’. “Since when do you even care about the others, Y/N? Ever since I met you, I’ve never seen you give one minute of your time to someone else.”

He is right. You’re not the caring type. As much as you want to act all mighty with your speech about helping others, you never cared about anyone else but yourself. Timothy knows you so well.

Lightning makes you both jump in the middle of your talk and he grabs the opportunity to pull on your arm to join the rest of the group. “We’ll talk about this later.”

You’re about to protest and pull on your arm when he stops. “Did you hear this?” he turns around and blinks toward the trees, body starting to shake. “It sounds like an animal.”

You sigh, finally understanding why Taeyong made fun of you when you ran away from a wild boar thinking it was a tiger. “It must be a wild b-”

A loud growl makes you shut your mouth to look around. You’re quite sure wild boars don’t make that sound.

“Hurry the fuck up.” Timothy pulls on your arm harder to bring you behind him. “I’m not going to die right before escaping that shit hole.” He runs between the trees, almost flying and making it hard for you to follow. You keep on running, branches scratching your arms and ripping your skin.

“Where are they?” You yell between the heavy drops of water. You’re not even sure if you’re running toward the beach for they are nowhere to be found but Timothy doesn’t give up, even when the growl echoes a second time, closer than ever.

That’s it. You’re going to die.

“It’s behind us!” Timothy goes crazy, legs stomping the muddy ground in fear of getting caught by whatever is now chasing you. He sprints, pace fast and uncaring of whether you can catch up or not.

You’re almost there. You’ll find the beach and hide in the boat at it goes into the sea and takes you out of there. You’ll try to make them change their mind so you can go and tell the others about this. There must be a damn way to make things normal again.

But they were never normal in the first place. Not even once.

From the moment you opened your eyes on this island, it was nothing but a nightmare. Your brain doesn’t seem to calm down, it sends images after images of how kind Taeyong has been, how skilfully Doyoung treated your wounds, how nice Solene was.

Timothy only brought sorrow. He introduced another part of himself, turned you into a recluse, hated by people who are supposed to make this whole thing easier for you.

A thick root wraps itself around your ankle and pulls you to the ground, hitting your eyebrow arch so hard you instantly feel blood pooling as you wriggle on the floor, in pain.

Timothy looks alarmed, you’re quite sure you see him hesitate before he stops to look at you. “Get up! Y/N!”

Another growl brings tears to your eyes but you sniff loudly, getting up and limping as the pain in your knee slowly comes back. You’re out of breath, hair stuck to your face and body dirtied in mud.

And Timothy is nowhere to be found.

“Tim…?” You try, now running in hope to find the boy who was here a second ago. “TIM!” You yell when panic enters you, feeling both helpless and betrayed.

But the shadow before you is enough to make you give up, in the middle of the forest, soaked by rain and covered in dirt.

It is not a wild boar.

“Tim..” You whisper, sobbing pitifully.

Maybe it’s for the best.

The unknown beast gets closer, its loud breathing and grunting paralysing every muscle in your body.

This is how you die.

You don’t know how it happened. Well, you do know. It’s payback. It’s the price you must pay for living your life the way you did. You hurt your family, let your friends down, took advantage of a guy on a deserted island and were willing to let people die here so you could escape on your own.

You deserve this and much more. You start to laugh bitterly. How ridiculous.

You close your eyes and you can almost hear Taeyong now, as he tells you to move the fuck out of here and save your ass. He’d feel so disappointed in you. Maybe he would panic? You’re not quite sure. You decided to part from him to focus on your relationship with a guy who just let you rot in the forest.

Taeyong would find you so damn stupid for being this way.

“Come here.”

It’s like he is talking to you now. Oh well, maybe you’re dead already. It’s good considering you’re not in pain so at least you didn’t suffer.

“Be quiet.”

You blink, eyes fluttering to look around the jungle but it’s dark, like something is covering your eyes.  You look up and finally, you realize you’re against someone’s chest, crouched behind a thick tree.

You can’t believe it.

Taeyong only sighs when the animal slows his pace to go deeper in the jungle. He looks down at your red eyes and bloody face.

“I’ve got you.”

178 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 6 years

Text

Without You

I am back with a request! And with Poe! I know it's been a while since I wrote for him, so I had to!

Hope you all like it, and thank you @itsjustmylifeconfessions for your request, I hope you like it! It is slightly different from what you asked, but I felt it was more logical and logical this way. I hope you like it anyway...

Protective and angry Poe and fluff!

Gif not mine

Word Count: 2853

You were back at the base, but that was a real miracle. You should have died out there, and you knew it. If you were still breathing, it was thanks to Poe who had broken his order to remain on the ground, and had allowed you to escape.

You took a deep breath, before knocking on the door of the Command Centre. You had not seen Poe before walking out of the hangar to give your report. You hoped he was alright.

The General was not there, but the rest of the Commanders were gathered in the circular, dusty room.

Commander Montgomery invited you to sit down to give your report.

"Do you need medical attention first?" the commander asked, noticing the traces of blood on your forehead, right under your hairline.

But you shook your head.

"I'm just fine, sir. It's a mere scratch."

"What happened out there, lieutenant?"

"It was a trap. I didn't stand a chance."

"We knew that the risks were high."

"And I accepted to go there on my own. Knowing the risks. But they knew I was coming."

The officers all exchanged a glance that spoke the question in their minds, even if they remained silent.

Was there a traitor in the Rebellion?

"We heard that Commander Dameron broke direct orders to help you," Montgomery went on, choosing not to speak the question that could be read all over his features.

"He saved my life."

"He disobeyed…"

"If he had not, I would be dead. You can't punish him for saving me."

Montgomery stood up, heaving a sigh.

"We'll talk about that later," he replied, nodding towards the door. "Ask for a medic to take a look at that cut you have here. And be ready to report again as soon as you're cleared from Medbay."

You nodded, ready to turn around and leave. But Poe stormed into the room before you had the chance to walk away.

His cheeks were reddened by what you read in his eyes as anger, but he didn't seem wounded in any way. He was lucky, after all his acrobatics… But relief was quick to fade in your veins as you noticed that he wasn't harm. You recognized the look on his face, and you knew how vivid his rage must have been boiling through his body to twist his features into such an expression.

You placed yourself before him, ready to stop him.

"Are you okay?" you asked, trying to distract him.

His dark brown eyes finally landed upon you, and they immediately softened.

"Fine. You? You're bleeding."

"Just a scratch. Mind to take me to see a doctor?"

But his eyes settled upon the commanders behind you again, and his soft expression disappeared as quickly as it had formed at the sight of you.

"You can wait for me in the corridor," he mumbled to you, taking a step forward.

"Poe, don't do anything stupid."

You stopped him by resting a hand on his chest. He was still dressed in his orange suit, he had merely thrown his helmet somewhere on his way to the see the commanders. He was close enough for you to smell his scent of oil and lemon, and you struggled to quiet your throbbing heart as he moved even closer.

Months you had spent hiding your feelings for him... You were still terrible at controlling the way your body reacted to his nearness though.

"Poe… I'm fine."

"Y/N, just let me pass."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Anything stupid? Which part was stupid to you? The part where I saved you? Or the part where you accepted a mission that could have gotten you killed?"

"Every mission can get us killed, Poe."

"The odds are rarely as bad…"

But he stopped mid-sentence, clenching his jaw.

"We'll talk about that later. I need to have a word with these ones first."

"Poe…"

He gently and yet firmly pushed you aside, and you couldn’t stop him this time.

"Commander Dameron," Montgomery crossed his arms before his chest as Poe walked into the room. "You were not invited to this meeting. We shall deal with your behaviour later…"

"Cut the crap, Montgomery!" Poe cut him off. "I'm not the one who should be in trouble, you should be!"

"Oh, really?"

"You sent Lieutenant Y/L/N to her death!"

"She came back safe and sound."

"Because I went there and helped her to escape!"

Montgomery pointed at the door.

"Let's not make a scene, Commander. We shall deal with your behaviour later."

"Oh, no, let's! Let's deal with my behaviour now! And let's deal with yours too, as we are all gathered here anyway!"

The more he talked, the louder his voice became, and he ended up roaring through the room, all the other Commanders staring at him.

"You knew that this mission was almost suicide," Poe accused his colleague. "You knew Lieutenant Y/L/N's chances were low. And yet, you chose to send her out there on her own, with no back up!"

"The mission required discretion. Which is why we sent only one pilot."

"Why didn't you send me then? You know I'm the best. Or perhaps your ego couldn't take the fact that I'm better than you?"

"You're not known for your discretion, Dameron. You generally prefer to blow things up!"

"At least I don't let Lieutenants take the riskiest missions in my stead!"

"Don't play the moral hero with me, Dameron. We all know here that you're just a reckless moron!"

"At least I'm not a coward!"

You saw the two men take a deep breath and clenching their fists tight at the same time, and you put yourself between the two of them. Around you, one of the Commanders was gone looking for the General. Another had a hand on his holster. The rest of them were watching the scene in silence, waiting for Poe's outburst to reach its peak.

"Now, that's enough," you admonished, your hands up before you in a soothing gesture. "For both of you."

"Enough? Oh, Y/N, I'm just getting started," Poe replied with an acidic tone.

"Poe, stop it."

"Montgomery sent you to your death, and you're not even mad at him? Really?!"

"Poe…"

But your friend merely glared at your officer again, and if a glance could have killed, Montgomery would have died on the spot.

"You almost killed her today!" Poe resumed his shouting. "You sent her away on this mission without back up…!"

"You do not know the details of this mission."

"If you were not so worried about this mission, then why didn't you send Lieutenant K'ila? Oh, of course, you wouldn't risk the life of the man you sleep with, but it's okay to send Lieutenant Y/L/N to her death!"

"Don't you dare drag K'ila into this!"

"Why not, huh? You have a problem sending the man you love to his death? Well, maybe next time you will think about the fact that sending someone another person loves is not better! And without warning! Not a word! You bloody pile of Bantha shite!"

The meaning behind Poe's words was blur, but the time you spent wondering if you had understood him right was enough for him to push you aside and to rush towards Montgomery.

And before you could react, Poe's fist had collided with Montgomery's nose and they were both rolling on the floor.

You rushed towards them, shouting at Poe to stop. But it took four people to separate the two commanders. By the time Poe was back on his feet, being pushed aside by you and another officer, his eyebrow was bleeding profusely, and the first signs of a bruise darkening his cheekbone were slowly staining his skin.

"Are you out of your mind?!" you shouted at him.

The tone of your voice seemed to snatch him out of his trance, and he looked at you with a frown.

"He almost got you killed!"

"Poe…"

But you heard that someone had called for guards, and you didn't want to wait for them to take Poe away.

"I guess you earned your place in the medbay too. Come on, let's get you patched up."

"It's not over…"

"Poe, please… I'm tired, let's go."

He glared at Montgomery once more, but he didn't resist when you pulled him through the door and into the corridor, guiding him around the base.

He raised a surprised eyebrow when he recognized the corridor leading to your quarters.

"Not going to see a doctor?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"For the General to find you there and ground you for three months? No, I'll take care of your stupid head myself."

"That stupid head saved your reckless arse!"

"Me? Reckless? Really? You can talk, flyboy!"

You opened your door and let him enter while he chuckled.

"Don't make me laugh, my cheek hurts," he whined, letting himself fall on your bed.

"You don't have the right to complain. You're the one who started it."

"That's very unfair. I was defending you!"

"You were getting yourself in trouble. As usual."

You sat down by his side after picking up what you needed to heal him.

"Ouch!" he complained as you pressed a handkerchief against his bleeding eyebrow.

"What happened in your head? What could you possibly be thinking about that made you imagine for just a second that it was a good idea to punch Montgomery in the face?!" you admonished, and he hated to hear this harsh ton in your voice.

"I didn't exactly think about it, if you really want to know," he mumbled under his breath, and you pressed the clothing a bit harder against his wound as a punishment, making him wince again.

"You almost died, Y/N. And that was Montgomery's fault," Poe defended himself while you cleaned the blood that had flowed down the side of his face.

"I accepted the mission, Poe. I knew what I would be facing…"

"Are you mad?!" he burst out. "And then you come and say that I am reckless?!"

"Poe, there was no one else who could do that mission. I speak the local language, I'm a skilled pilot…"

"A skilled pilot, perhaps. But it was too good to be true. The lead you were following was a trap. Can't you see that?"

"I know it was a trap. I was in the middle of it, Poe. Thank you, but I had noticed that."

"What I mean is that it seemed obvious that it would be a trap. Montgomery shouldn't have sent you there alone."

"Poe, it doesn't matter now. Because I did accept to go there, so the blame is on me too."

"Oh, I know that. Don't think that because I saved your pretty arse, I'm not mad at you. I am mad. Because you took crazy risks, yes, but also because you didn't tell me anything about it! What if I hadn't learnt about this mission of yours, huh?! You would be dead!"

"Poe, I know you're upset, but you're overreacting."

"No, I'm not! You should have died!"

"But I'm not dead."

"Because I rescued you!"

"Now, rescuing is a big word for what happened," you lied, knowing he was right and that you would be dead if it wasn't for Poe.

"Don't play that game with me, Y/N."

"Poe…"

"Why did you take that mission, if you were so sure that you would get hurt?"

His voice was lower now, sounding hurt, as if you had betrayed him.

You heaved a sigh, pushing the clothe away and crossing your arms before your chest.

"I took that mission, because someone had to do it. And if someone had to die, then why not me?"

"How can you say something like that?"

"How many times did you take missions so dangerous that you knew you wouldn't come back?"

"But I always do come back."

Your lips curved up in a sad smile.

"You're a lucky guy. What about the day your luck abandons you?"

He shook his head.

"It's different, Y/N."

"It's not different. You've taken missions that were more dangerous than the one I took today."

"But you would have died. And I don't die."

"Half the time, it's because I save you."

He gave you a little smile.

"Quite true…"

You heaved a sigh.

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to have a fight with you. I might be the next one punching you in the face."

He laughed, and you soon joined him.

"You're going to be in trouble though," you went on. "Leia won't be pleased."

He shrugged.

"Your safety is more important than Leia's opinion on me."

Your throat tightened and you felt your stomach clench. This question was burning your tongue, but you hesitated. You didn't want to look like an idiot because you had misread the signs and failed to understand Poe's words during his fight with your officer.

You didn't want to lose your best friend, but you were also tired of the foreplay that thrived between you and Poe.

"Do you really mean that?" you asked with a shushed voice.

"Of course," he frowned slightly, searching for your gaze, but you looked down at your knees to flee these two brown orbs you adored and never failed to read right through you.

"You value Leia's opinion a lot though."

"Y/N… nothing matters more than your safety to me."

You swallowed hard, your nerves making you twist your hands together and look anxiously up at him, despite the strengths you had summoned to speak again.

"What did you mean? When you told Montgomery that he hadn't sent someone he loved?"

He looked at you with a confused expression.

"I don't know. I don't remember everything I told him. I was a bit pissed off, in case you hadn't noticed."

"You… you talked about loving someone…"

His glance became intense, piercing right through you. And you tried to flee such strong eyes, but they were too magnetic for you to look away.

"I mean… perhaps you didn't speak about yourself…"

"Why do you ask me that?" he interrupted you.

Despite the intensity of his stare his voice was soft, a mere whisper.

You shrugged.

"I was just… wondering…" you lied.

"Y/N…"

He clenched his jaw, and was the first to look away, setting his stare on his hands instead of your face.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he breathed.

"Offend me?"

"I know you don't feel this way."

He stood up abruptly, his movement too fast for you to stop him.

"I should go see the General. She would want to punch me in the face too," he said with humour, but his eyes remained lowered towards his boots.

He strode to your door, but you finally caught his arm, standing as well before him.

"Does that mean…?"

Your question remained suspended in mid-air, but you didn't need to finish it for Poe to understand.

He ran a hand through his thick black hair, heaving a sigh.

"I know you don't feel like that…"

"I do."

His eyes shot up to meet yours, his hand stopping its movements through his hair.

"You do?"

You nervously bit down on your lower lip.

"Is that why you broke all the rules in the Resistance again? And you came to save me?" you asked in a shaky breath.

He slowly nodded.

"I couldn't let you die out there. I can't… I couldn't live without you."

You saw the tip of his ears turning crimson, and the sight made you smile. He opened his mouth a couple of times as if to speak again, but he closed it right after every time.

You couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's the first time that I see the great Poe Dameron at a loss for words," you mocked, and he was quick to join your laughter.

"I'm… I mean… I should tell you…" he stuttered.

He laughed at himself.

"I don't really know how to say that though…"

Your heart was racing so fast, but you forced your hand to rise anyway, reaching for Poe's fingers, and he intertwined your fingers together.

"Then… perhaps you could show me instead?" you offered, biting on your lip again.

He smiled down at you, his expression tender as he raised his free hand to cup your cheek.

"That sounds like a good idea…"

You nodded, your heart accelerating even more as you noticed that Poe was leaning closed to you.

"And you could use that to avoid Leia as well. By now, she must be ready to murder you," you joked, trying to control the way your voice shook.

When his chest touched yours, you could feel that his heart was beating just as fast as yours.

"That would be a very good alibi," he smiled.

You nodded, his breath colliding with your lips stealing all the air from your lungs and all the strengths you needed to speak.

And as he finally leaned further to close the space between you, he let you see that he had not been lying.

He really couldn't live without you…

**************************

Tag List : @that-bwitch @wearetalkingtoyou @giggleberts @ponycake27 @iwanttomeetnewpeople @mxrihollxnd @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynight-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky

#poe dameron #poe #poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe imagine #poe fanfic #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #writing #imagine

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espeneldritch · 5 years

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2. This is the post with abuse mentions I was talking about please stay safe

Alright so first off so nobody gets confused: yes. I'm ftm. I don't list that on my bio because I just want to be male you know? Being trans isn't as big to my identity as being bisexual and it's not like I would probably date anyone off Tumblr anyways so it's really none of anyone's business unless it comes to stories like this, in which, you need that context.

If you don't know what that means, it means I'm trans and yeah I still go by he/him. I'm male.

Anyways here's the story

I have waited a little over 2 years to be seen by my local gender specialist. This is not optional in Canada no matter your money, and he was booked up that far because the old one retired and I live in a fairly densely populated area. I was very excited when I received the phone call and was solely focused on the gender aspect of my mental health because I've been living as male since 17 and not being on T while seeing trans peers in other areas get to medically transition faster felt like torture. I had completely forgotten that these gender specialists are trained psychiatrists prepared especially for the issues we can face.

I came in, gave him my med list, told him about my transition, he agreed on my disagnosis of gender dysphoria and referred me to an endocrinologist within the first five minutes. He even apologized for the wait and said he would refer me for top surgery, but he needed to wait for fat redistribution on T.

Here is where things got interesting. He had us booked for a full hour like a therapy session. It really caught me off guard how he started going through questions off the beaten path for therapists.

He asked me about previous disagnosis and we went into detail about how they interacted with my dysphoria and suddenly something old came out of his files. My letter from my childhood doctor for concerta. He asked about how my ADHD was off medication. Nobody I'd seen since I was 6 had asked about my ADHD, and there was a good reason for that.

I was absolutely shocked. It all came flooding back. No, my mom had taken me out of the doctor's because she said it changed my attitude too much and she wanted me back. I was bilingual, mandrin immersion when I was little. On the meds, I was finally catching up with my tutors a year in but my mom took me off them and my attention crashed so hard that I had to be removed from my multilingual program and put into special Ed to recover the damage done. I had to switch schools, she didn't try different meds she just took me off them. I figured out how to make my understimulated brain work with special Ed and was thrown back into regular schooling by grade four. Chances of learning any other languages pretty much completely ruined even with learning strategies.

But it didn't stop there. I was ill allot as a kid and my Mom wasn't experienced enough to handle it. I don't think it was malicious, she's just always been my only parent and... not really ready for a kid. I was severely iron deficient throughout my childhood which may or may not have been her fault but between the both of us being victims of actual abuse and living in shelters for a few years I'm not willing to call the trauma she put me through abuse.

Yet, when I developed chronic migraines in Jr high (a risk factor for migraines is chronic iron deficiency) she refused to treat me after one bad medication interaction along with refusing recommend MRIs due to budding working symptoms. She stopped taking me to doctors, I lost contact with my neurologist. As always she had that same inexperienced fear of repetition instead of a willingness to be on my side to help me. As a result of that my migraines were out of control up into highschool. I was missing weeks of school a month because I couldn't talk without slurring and they would stack up and trigger each other.

Mysteriously, they stopped in grade 11-12. But they came back when I was 18 (I graduated at 17 and was working for half a year at this point) but this time with hemipeligic symptoms. But, because of my neglect growing up, I had no idea that a) people didn't just deal with half their body getting paralyzed or b) what to do about it as an adult who has never been taught how to take care of my mental or physical illnesses. I refused to tell my coworkers what was wrong. I valued my privacy, and if I had had the supports behind me, this would have been fine. But I didn't. I had love behind me, but no supports.

I suppose what this is. I see everyone bonding over abuse, including me. I've talked about my abuse tons of times and that's not for the public eyes but I want to know if you all can relate to having so much love behind you from so many different people. So many people from different places that you have healthy relationships from, but you know, none of them behind you are resilient. It hurts you, but it's not their fault. My mom is so important to me. She's a good person, a strong person. We get along as adults. But our roles feel kind of flipped and it's not abuse but it's not healthy either. I don't know how much people really talk about that kind of dirty laundry, but there's a certain kind of burden that comes with this structure. I'm the eldest son. I live in and pay her rent even though I want to move out because she wants to keep the house and I want to make sure my little brother is never alone like me. She's always crying on me. She brings home her boyfriends to me, asks for advice. I break up arguments between her and her long time boyfriend all the time. From before I was in school I was helping at her work and I continue today, despite that being one of the places I was abused.

She never seemed abusive to me because she's always seemed naïve. She just didn't know better. Yet, there's research coming out that they're finding white matter scarring on MRIs of people with hemipeligic migraines. I can't blame her, but her mistakes might have left physical scars on me.

I could have brain damage because she was scared of me getting locked in with a migraine medication again. I was afraid too, but I was a child, I needed her to be strong more than I needed to be strong. I needed her to continue looking for treatment, but she didn't, because she had love for me. She was just there for me, but not to fight for me when I was sick and too young to understand. She was just an inexperienced mother who saw her kid suffering and wanted to hide because of it. Unfortunately I just happened to hurt so much more because of it and I didn't even want to think about all that before my gender therapist asked.

Today, I am 4 months HM free on preventative medication despite bad side effects and ages of dosage adjustment. It's still not perfect, but compared to what I had, it's incredible. I just tried a different of ADHD medication and even some gaps in my vision I thought were permanently ruined due to my migraines were fixed. I'm going to do some research on this tonight, but I'm overjoyed. My vision problems are nothing glasses could fix, I didn't think my ADHD could effect my vision, but I think it might make sense especially with my migraines at the same time and also depression. But that's another post and just my thoughts as a dumber than average non-neuroscientist

TL;DR

Going in for gender therapy is actually not just gender focused. Sometimes you can be surprised with big honking problems you forgot you had. You'll probably walk out of that room with a referral, just prepare yourself for all the other things you were barring behind your gender. Because, I didn't believe them when they said there's always something; but there's always something. Don't be afraid, just be ready. You might bite off more than you can chew like I did, but take it slow. The prescription for ADHD meds at the gender clinic has probably been both the strangest and the best thing that's ever happened to me.

#abuse #gender therapy #transgender #adhd #migraine #hemipeligic #chronic illness #depression #dysphoria #hospital #gender gatekeeper #mtf #neglect #long post #tldr

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sheerioswifties · 6 years

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~There she goes, hiding the pain, AgAiN!~ So I had to throw this together quickly today using old selfies because I’m dealing with a flare, doctors, the stress of medical expenses, and soooooo much more as we speak. Even though I’ve posted for these nights before about my chronic illness, I’ve not gone into detail; frankly the situation itself is very painful to talk about. It’s painful to go into all the things I can’t do anymore that I used to. I once was very active and now… some days all I have is lying there and listening to @taylorswift and, when I can, coming on here to hang out with all you guys. Even though it has consumed and yeah, destroyed my life; which sometimes does make me very frustrated and angry, my illness is “invisible,” I don’t lookdisabled or sick- and this makes EVERYTHING that much harder, I have to sit and convince people that I’m sick in the first place. And I’m often judged and not believed. And some days I don’t want to believe it myself, and I push myself, because I don’t want this to take what it has from me, from my identity. I can’t work, let alone pursue a career that I’d dreamed of; so I’m young and broke, not a good thing to be in this world right now. I struggle. Medical bills are insane and getting worse and I’m very scared about where it might put me someday. So yeah, things like buying tons of merch and trying to go to shows is… daunting. Just going to one took/takes a LOT of detailed planning behind the scenes that nobody knows about. And I haven’t told anyone this because I was ashamed of myself and my body for letting me down, but halfway through my Rep show in Seattle (my first TS show after years of trying), as badly as I wanted to dance, jump, sing, scream and wave my lightstick… I was in so much pain and so exhausted I had to sit down and just watch for a while. I was embarrassed. I felt like a fake fan. I hated that I didn’t even have the energy to sing along, that I had to take a complete break from the show. I hate talking about this now but… it’s come to light that there’s really a lot of little things like this that able-bodied people might not have even considered that we have to deal with, yet this is our reality, this is our lives. I never made a tour post or tried to campaign to meet Taylor, that was never why I came here, which I’ve explained before. I won’t let myself hold any hope of that ever happening either, and that’s okay. Honestly. I will admit that some nights when I’m really hurting and feeling just absolutely deflated, I’ve become angry about who seems to get attention even in the small forms of Tay likes/follows/reblogs. Then I get mad at myself for that. But I’ll be totally honest. It would of course mean the world to me to even just get to speak to Taylor for a minute, over the phone or in DMs even, honestly even 30 seconds would be everything to me because she really, really does help in ways inexplicable that I really would love for her to know, to know how many hard nights she’s carried me through, how many beautiful friends she’s brought into my life, to just have a moment to thank her. And points have been made today about that, how others who are going through disabilities would love just the opportunity to express their gratitude to that person who kept them strong when they were at their weakest. Anyways here I am writing a super-long post when I meant to keep this one really short and simple. I could go on but the others need to speak too. Please listen to them. No, you may not be able to truly feel or understand everything they go through but you can show kindness, empathy, support, love. Thank you, so much, to those of you who do. It really means the absolute world to us when this is our whole world. Much love💕 -Brynn- @swiftiesofcolor

#swiftdisabledselfies #chronically ill #chronic illness #chronic pain #invisible illness #swiftie strong #spoonie #spoonies #autoimmune disease #i'll add more tags later i need to get this posted lol #sorry it's late #my post #my face #my story #jul 24 #b

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twdmusicboxmystery · 4 years

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8x01 - 8x03 Rewatch - Part 1

So, I’ll be doing these three episodes over the next three days to keep things short. I’ll mostly talk about what new things I’m seeing here, with what we’ve learned in recent seasons. I won’t be going over all the obvious, nitty-gritty background symbolism and such. To read through things I’ve seen in the past, read about this episode HERE.

Let me also state for the record that I think everything that happens in this war against the Saviors is used to foreshadow a future war against the helicopter people. So while this was one of the less-liked seasons, because it was all action and almost no emotional stuff, try to see past that action to what it’s foreshadowing.

8x01:

So, of course we have all the stuff with Rick’s Old Man Coda. Once again, we didn’t find out he was leaving until the hiatus between S8 and S9. So we didn’t know that at this point. This very obviously points Rick leaving and going to the helicopter group. Remember also that we see the 8:22 clock with him here, which I believe represents resurrection. (Details HERE and HERE.)

We have this bit where Tara is timing how long it takes walkers to reach a certain point. This is because they’re going to lead the walkers toward the Sanctuary and need to time everything correctly for their plan. The time on her watch says 10:28. I don’t have much to say about the time. Not sure what it points to, but this was their dry run.

When they actually put this plan into action, the walkers are late. Tara counts down from 10 to 1 and the walkers haven’t arrived yet. The show up a few seconds later and she says, “okay. Close enough.” Then they put the plan into action.

In terms of what we know now and what this foreshadows, it strikes me that it’s another example of leading walkers through a specific path and plan. So it parallels to S6, of course, but it might also parallel to what we’re about to see at the hospital. Tara does countdown from 10, after all, and now we’re on S10.

Also, we see Carol look at a flower on the overpass, which is probably a foreshadow of Henry, if these walkers foreshadow the horde the whisperers bring with them in S10.

Once they start the plan, Daryl, Carol, Tara, and Moran all lead the walkers to a place where they’ve put wire across the road. They want the Saviors’ cars to hit the wire and explode. After getting the wire in place, they run up onto a green bridge. (Green + bridge symbols).

Then something really interesting happens. A lone walker shows up and they’re afraid it will trip the explosives before the saviors get there, foiling the plan. So they need to take this walker out. Morgan runs down to do it.

I think this is really interesting because it foreshadows Morgan getting separated from the group. Going out on his own. He kills the walker but can’t get back to the bridge because the Saviors cars turn onto the street and might see him. So he hides somewhere else. Anyone remember where? Behind a green trash dumpster. Which parallels to Glenn’s death fake out, right?

Well, for anyone who doesn’t watch FTWD and doesn’t know, we’re kind of right in the middle of a death fake out for Morgan right now. The last season we saw ended on a cliffhanger of him apparently “dying.” Now, most of us aren’t that worried about this death. He hadn’t actually died yet when the episode ended. It’s more like he’s been shot in the chest and is bleeding out with no one to help him and no medical care around. So they want you to think he won’t make it. Yeah, he’ll be fine. But I won’t be surprised if, when that show starts up again, he’s not in the first few episodes and everyone thinks he’s dead or something.

Anyway, my point is that this foreshadows Morgan separating from Daryl and the rest of TF and then having a death fake out himself. As I always say, guys, they ALWAYS pay this stuff off. They will with Beth, too.

We have them taking out the Savior’s watch points, and some interesting symbolism there, too. There is Daryl looking at the gun that has numbers scratched into it. There are 8 groups of 5 plus three out by themselves. So we see 28 on the top row and 15 on the bottom. Still not positive what these mean, but I’m sure you all recognize the significance of the basic numbers. Lots of 8s around both Beth and Rick, and they’re the two with the helicopter people, now. 5s and 3s are also important.

And notice the walker in the background here. It looks a lot like the picture in 5x09. Check it out:

So what does it mean? I don’t think this symbolism has been completely fulfilled, yet. If we saw similar stuff in Ty’s heath hallucination, and Beth was there, a lot of that probably points to her return in some way. I think this does, too. It’s just another way to point to her return. But because we haven’t actually seen that yet, it’s hard to say EXACTLY what it points to.

But again, if this all foreshadows the war with the helicopter people, then Beth’s return is kind of naturally tied into it.

We also had Rick taking out one of the Saviors posts. There’s a blue cooler behind him at this point and the Savior says Rick’s boy is going to die. So, I remember that when this aired, no one suspected Carl’s death yet. It broke not long after the premiere. Like around episode 2 or 3. After that, I went back and rewatched this and realized this was a dialogue foreshadow. And, sure enough, Carl did die this season. So again, they purposely do dialogue foreshadows and always pay them off. (Beth: I made it, I’m getting out, etc.)

After the tripwire Daryl and co set up works, they all go their separate ways to follow the plan. Daryl drinks water before getting on his bike to lead the walkers. They put a huge and somewhat random emphasis on him drinking the water, with Norman swishing it around in his mouth for like 15 seconds before moving on. Kind of random, right? Like why do we NEED to know he’s taking a drink of water before heading out?

Symbolism, of course! And this just screams Beth and the theory I presented about 6a: that it foreshadows him and Beth leading walkers away together in some way.

Another symbolism fulfillment we have is the fact that in Rick’s Old Man Coda (which is actually Carl’s vision of the future) we have an “older” Judith and we don’t see Carl’s face. Now, once we realized he was dying, not showing his face made sense. It was because he wouldn’t actually be a part of this future. But none of us could have predicted back then that we would actually see this older Judith, and it was only about a season after this that we saw her. So this was a very literal foreshadowing of the 6 year time jump and seeing Judith at an older age.

And remember, there are TONS of Beth symbols in this sequence: the clock, the flowers, the cane, the owl, a fertility festival, the song about the bus, etc. I’m just saying.

We also have Carl meeting Siddiq here. Again, I could go on and on about the smaller symbols: red and green cans, things that are said. Siddiq has some Beth dialogue here. I don’t have much that’s new to say, though.

And finally, in this episode we have the very first part of the arc where Father Gabriel is left behind by Gregory and ends up trapped with Negan. This is super important because it’s how FG loses his eye and becomes a Sirius embodiment. So we can definitely call him a Beth proxy in this situation. But we only get the very beginning of it in this episode.

On to 8x02 tomorrow!

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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dentalrecordsmusic · 6 years

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Album Review: “Pray For The Wicked” by Panic! At The Disco - When Sinners Become the Storytellers

Words by December Svetlana Jade

There comes a time in life for a selected few that the never working peaceful demand just stops. No more bliss. No more sympathy from the gates of heaven, and the so-called gods of your own inner world. Nothing the simple following of gut-wrenching conformity can do for you anymore.

So you tear it away from your life. For good, and rebirth yourself. With all your madness.

Panic! At The Disco—one of my favorite bands since I was a kid—released their new album Pray For The Wicked today, and I don’t think it could’ve come at a better time. An album name that sends a powerful message of inspiration to those who can never fit the mold, stuck with minds of insanity with the highest ambition, and with crazy good tracks to match.

The album opens with their second single, “(Fuck A) Silver Lining”. A track that really speaks for itself--because everyone wants the shining gold. The lyrics in each verse describe a tragedy that’s happened. What that tragedy specifically is can be interpreted in many different ways, but one thing’s for sure: something broke, and is forever ruined. Singer Brendon Urie uses sarcasm as he introduces each verse, singing in a very jokingly matter how it’s just “cherries on top”. With just the sound of his voice, you can tell everything has gone to hell, but he obviously can’t fix it now, so here he is just coming through with a well-known saying to make fun of the fact that everything is definitely not good. A line in the verse that really stuck out to me was, “We’ve been falling, falling, it’s like we fell to the top [...] Now I’m dodging, dodging everything you think that I’m not / Archetype of television, was lost but held my vision”. It’s clear the person Urie is describing (perhaps even himself) through the song, it was so close to making it, so close to being okay, and so close to fixing all the issues, but failed almost in a way where their dream isn’t even a victory anymore. Now there’s accusation, surrounding the person on who they exactly are, and through the fogginess of the world around them and their own self-pity, they don’t even know anymore. But alas, there’s still hope. A goal is still to be achieved, and even if the world around has burned, it can be rebuilt. Thus, this is what the chorus reiterates. The silver lining isn’t good enough. It has to be perfect. A shining, top-of-the-notch-gold feeling. Average will never do. This song was a great way to open the album on Urie’s part. Everything else following in some form or another sticks with the theme of owning all your flaws and mistakes, and rebuilding yourself with wicked redemption.

“Hey Look Ma, I Made It” is the first song on the record the audience hears which is unfamiliar to us, and apparently it’s the next to single. Rightfully so. Opened with the upbeat nature of a pumping bass and a cool electric guitar for celebration, the song signifies the next chapter in someone's life. Ignoring the remarks, pushing past the failings, and making a total switch of growth. Their life has been a clear struggle, never having once made it to the top, by letting everything get the best of them. But now, it’s a new chapter. The sequel to their past life, as Urie describes in song, “Are you ready for the sequel? / Ain’t you ready for the latest? / Ain’t it got enough evil / I’m gonna be the greatest / In a golden cathedral / I’ll be praying for the faithless / And if you lose / boohoo.” I’m not one to type out a whole part of lyrics from a song. After a few important lines, for the most part, people understand your gist once you describe it. But holy mother of God and all things wickedly holy of Brendon Urie, every lyric in this song is pure genius. I just have to type big chunks here. It hits every mark with exactly the thoughts and overall mood it’s going for. Asking the world so strongly, so boldly, even despite all the doubts of everything, if it’s ready for you. Because you’re here, your old self a corpse left forever dead, and you’re reborn into your own self-entitled extraordinaire. Even going as far as taking the “evil”, aka anything twisted, anyone or even your own self has thought about you, and owning as it being who you are, and not letting anyone use it against you. If they don’t believe in you now, sure, you’ll give an effort to try and let them see, but at the end of the day, it’s their loss. And boy could you not give a single fuck anymore. A chorus that describes how you made it, using the typical “hey ma” phrase as a way to say you made it within yourself, and are showing it to someone who’s seen you your whole life (in this case, more like the whole world). Holding yourself high and feeling all the glory, because here you are, ready to own yourself and take it all on. If all of it is just a delusion fantasy, it’s one you’ll never leave.

The entirety of the second verse hits home so much for me. And once again, I am going to type out the whole thing, because every lyric hits like a bullet, “Friends are happy for me / oh they’re honeysuckle phonies / Then they celebrate my medals / or they wanna take my trophies / Some are loyal soldiers / while these other thorns are rosy / And if you never know who you can trust / then trust me you’ll be lonely.” I’ve had tons of fake; horrible friends. Recently, I had a pretty traumatic breakup with one of these fake friends. When I heard this verse specifically, I was honestly shell-shocked. It was as if Urie himself had put all the emotions I’ve felt and turned it into a song. Even just the calmness to his voice with the way he sings it makes it so effective. Because it’s so known to him, and the feelings are so familiar, and I just get that completely. Your so-called friends will express cheer for you, perhaps say they’re even proud of all you’ve done, but in reality, are faking it. The use of the honeysuckle flower is so incredibly smart. Honeysuckles are known for being two different shades--two different sides to one person, fragrant--allure you with their charms, and open in the evening for pollination by moths--reveal their true selves away from you, and show how ugly they truly are. As they cheer for you and praise you to your face, they’re plotting in their minds how they can destroy you in every way possible. Sure, you have your faithful people you can always rely on, but there’s plenty who give off being doting, as they clasp a knife behind their back. At the end of the day, it’s all entirely toxic and ruins you. Destroying your friendships, self-worth, and ability to tell who really matters in your life, or if you even matter at all, leaving you shamefully alone. If you’re like me and have recently had to re-strengthen yourself from the damage a long-time fake friend has done, this is an excellent song to motivate you along the way. Screw all the damage, use it as your fuel, because even if they broke you, you’re still here and kicking.

Even with all the motivation this album entails, there’s definitely some stories of pain on it. “Roaring 20s” is a great example, and one of my favorites on the album. The opening music of 1920’s-era-like instruments just paints the picture in your mind of a room full of flapper girls, smoke in the air, and jazzy music. Despite the glamour and appeal of it all, the person in this song wants out. Reading back the lyrics, this song is sad. Dreadfully sad. A ‘y'know, I don’t think I want to wake up tomorrow’ kind of sad. But that’s all disguised by the blaring of peppy instruments, which seems to be exactly the point. This person is clearly going through a lot, and in spite of that, they’re being forced by the world to go on like life is a party, because heaven forbid they say anything to turn the mood negative. Once again, Urie hits everyone’s emotional center and this song captures it so perfectly in a way I never thought it could be possible. Down to the specifics of how the instruments are played and the vocals are produced. “Maybe I’ll medicate / maybe I’ll inebriate / Strange situations / I get anxious / Maybe I’ll smile a bit / maybe the opposite / But pray that they don’t call me thankless”. I really felt this in my bones. In life, sometimes you just have to cope. ‘How’ doesn’t matter. You just need to stay alive, to be able to breathe without a rush of pain. The situation this person is in--which appears to be something similar to a party, where it is very public and they’re forced to hide their true emotions, is becoming a realization for them to say that they don’t know how much longer they can fake it, or how much longer they can even deal with anything anymore. The definite last straw would surely be if anyone considered them selfish for their feelings.

References are made a few times in this song that help to describe the absolute truth of melancholy in the track. “My tell-tale heart is a hammer in my chest / cut me a silk tie tourniquet”. Most likely, this is a play on the Edgar Allan Poe story “The Tell-Tale Heart”, which follows a man trying to deem himself sane while also describing a murder he just committed. On one side, this person perhaps feels there’s nothing truly wrong with them, and they’re just experiencing a bad time. While on the flip side, they really do find themselves unbearable as their mind begins to swarm into cruel details of darkness. “But it’s Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight, I don’t know if I will survive”, is a direct reference to “Lord of the Flies” by William Golding, which tells the story of boys stranded on an island and how they slowly go insane as they try to govern themselves. The person in this song is trying to keep themselves together, and trying to manage and continue on all on their own. But each day, they’re falling deeper and deeper into the pit of madness and it’s unknown to them at that striking point if they’ll make it.

The chorus follow-up to the last verse is huge, loud, and absolutely amazing. It especially leads me to the replay button every time. The vocals get extravagant, and the instruments practically scream in notes, but everything slows down. Giving off a feeling as if going slow-mo in time, the rhythm breaks down completely so the focus is all the raw and aching emotions of the song. And of course, the chorus measures up to par with the rest, “This is my roaring / roaring 20s / I don’t even know me / Roll me like a blunt cause I wanna go home”. If you know anything about history, you’ll know the 1920s were a big time of extravagance. But merely, it was a distraction from the actual destruction and suffering that was happening in the world. Urie referencing what this person is going through as being their “roaring 20s era” is intelligent as a way to describe the hidden pain. They don’t even know themselves, because the whole world around them is a fake celebration despite the crippling suffering they feel inside. A reference to weed is also smart. This person just wants to drift off and forget: be alone and try so hard to distract and forget. An anthem to describe depression would be the perfect way to summarize this song. Not everyone will see it as awfully dark and upsetting, but if you look closely, you’ll see the truth.

The eleven track album of devilish bliss ends with ballad “Dying In LA”. It’s a song that compliments both sides to growth and is the perfect closing to this epic album. With a slow melody, soothing beat, and passionate vocals filled with vulnerability, Urie sings of the typical dreamer. Someone who spends every waking, breathing, and chilling moment waiting to make it for their chance of glory. It starts off describing a scenery of bliss. Finally arriving at this person’s equivalent of the golden gates of heaven--Los Angeles. You can just picture in your mind with each word the shimmering lights, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the expensive price tags, the distinct smell of a city crowd, and the busy world around you as you go to start your dream. “The sun was in your eyes / you couldn’t believe it [...] Stars are on the ground / you start to believe it”.

But alas, it isn’t always so easy as stepping onto the sidewalk. Los Angeles is a very glamorized place. It’s the place of stars, and the place to go to make a name for yourself. But if something happens along the way, and things don’t go as planned, well, perhaps it is better to fade away in a place of beauty, then to say you never tried at all. Towards the middle to the end of the song, that is what is referenced. “Drink of paradise / They told you put your blood on ice / You’re not gonna make it”. Blood on ice is a popular procedure in hospitals to preserve the hormones and oxygen within it for testing. Referencing this is a way to symbolize how this person should save what they have left, so there’s a possibility of something to share after they are gone. Soaking in the enjoyment, and the small fulfillment they have left in a place their heart has swooned about is the better option than to go back and be back at the very beginning. The chorus is the strongest part of this song. “But nobody knows you now / when you’re dying in LA / And nobody owes you now / when you’re dying in LA [...] The power of LA”. Even if you find all hope is lost, and there’s nothing else to do now, you always have the ability to escape to a place of happiness. There’s no grief, remorse, or agony in the place you find to be the backbone of your dreams. This is what Urie expresses as he describes the shifting moods of the dreamer in LA and the overall journey of finding hope. A perfect way to close the album’s rollercoasters with its main message.

With every rise, there is a fall. So with every fall, there is a rise. Even as the album is mostly centered around growing and starting anew, there are still references to past pain, which is important. You can’t have the glory without the suffering of getting there. All people have both physical and mental scars. Acknowledging them and accepting them in order to better yourself is the true depth of this album. From the fun, flashes of the past tracks such as “Dancing’s Not A Crime” and “The Overpass” which show a joy in breathing new air (and also sound perfect for old 80’s movies), to songs that describe in such power the deepest holes of slums, like “One Of The Drunks” and “Old Fashioned”, this album shows each of your qualities make you the person you are. Brendon Urie and his wonderful team have made this absolutely impressive and breathtaking album, which is sure to forever be marked as one of my all-time favorites. Whether you’re a long-time fan, or new to the band, this album has a favorite song for everyone and a message everyone for certain can relate to.

If you’re looking for a holy sign to reinvent your life, allow this album to be your bible. Let it guide you, inspire you, and be a place of comfort for all reasons. It’s time we let ourselves die for rebirth. A rebirthing that accepts all of the wicked sinners within us as we start the lives we always wanted. I pray you all are able to do so.

December Svetlana Jade is going to follow whatever insane and remarkable new religion Panic! At The Disco are starting. You can follow her on Tumblr.

Follow DRM on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

#Panic! at the Disco #brendon urie #pray for the wicked #pop punk #album review #december jade

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cashtonwoah-blog · 6 years

Text

Ashton Irwin Imagine // Escape

Warnings: Swearing, depression/self harm. Individuals may find this triggering., viewers discretion is strongly advised. Please seek support if you feel affected by this. My messages are always open if you want to chat!

Although this imagine is quite sad and personally dark, it does have a happy ending!

"Babe? Please talk to me. " I hear Ashton mutter through the key hole to our bathroom. I couldn't speak, I just needed to be alone right now. I’d had a crap day at work. My boss had a go at me for being 5 minutes late. Like really? The traffic into town was hectic and my car was playing up, even before I left. She shouted at me as soon as I walked into the door, straight away putting me in a bad mood. I then was greeted by an angry customer, who also reminded me that I was 5 minutes late to her beauty appointment. I normally loved my job, however recently I'd become distant. It was now the summer time in LA, which meant I could no longer wear a long cardigan to cover my arms with. Plus my boss was getting funny with me wearing bracelets to hide my wrists. I used to be good at covering my scars. I’d be able to cover them with heavy foundation and powder, so much so that Ashton didn't know I used to hurt myself the first 6 months of us dating. I remember the day he caught me though.

“Y/N, which shirt should I wear to the dinner ton-” he said, carrying two choices of shirts. He stopped his sentence as he walked into the bathroom. He could see the blood in the sink, dripping around the edge of the sick and onto the floor. He then noticed the blood on my wrists, and the blade in my shaky right hand. He ran over to me, grabbing the razor out of my band and throwing it into the toilet. He then grabbed the nearest white towel and wrapped it tightly around my arm. He then grabbed me, pulled me to the floor and pulled me into a deep embrace.

“Wh-why did you do this to yourself?” he questioned my actions. I sobbed into his chest.

“I don-don't know i-I'm sor-sorry” I sobbed back. I fully knew well why I did it. Just everything had recently been too much. From work, college and family stuff, I wasn't coping. My only release was through hurting myself. If i’d just remembered to lock the door, none of this would have happened.

“Please promise me you won't do this again” he asked me softly. I looked up at him. His blotchy red eyes were wet just like mine. How could I promise such a big thing? Yet I could see how much it was affecting him,

“I promise” fully meaning it.

Or so I thought. Sat here after a stressful day. My boss had made me work double the amount of time I was supposed to, my car had broke down, my Mum had phoned to say I had to pay her for some shopping she did for me a while back, and to top it all off, Ashton and I had plans to go out to dinner with the other 5SOS boys to celebrate the release of their new album. I just wasn't up for it. We’d argued just before we were due to go out, over who was going to drive to the restaurant.

“Ash just let me drive, you’ll want to have a drink and i’m not fussed about drinking!” I huffed.

“You won't, you’ll moan later that you will be the only sober one there” he said, rushing around the room trying to get ready.

“Well lets get an Uber then!” I suggested, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Ubers are expensive, Y/N!” he exclaimed.

“Uh you always make our plans so difficult!” I screamed, shutting myself in the bathroom door.

“Y/N please open the door. I’m worried about you” Ashton said on the other side of the door, snapping me back into reality. I was still laying on the floor, black mascara smudged around my face. I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my reflecting made me cry more. I opened the cabinet on the wall and grabbed my hairbrush. Ashton didn't know but I'd hidden a spare razor inside my hairbrush. I took my top off, releasing my bare skin. I admired the scars I already had present on my wrist. I traced a finger along the new and old scars, thinking of where to place my newest addition. I felt further tears fall from my eyes. Suddenly, I heard a loud bang, and saw Ashton barging through the door. He’d actually smashed our wooden bathroom door to get through. I froze, unable to move. Before I could do anything, Ashton once again snatched the razor away from my wrist. He help me tight once again, as I collapsed into his arms. I was so exhausted and emotionally drained, I drifted off to sleep in his arms, on the bathroom floor.

*A few days later*

“A wellness centre? You're kidding right?” I asked, looking at the leaflet.

“I think it would be a good break for us both! Plus its more of a spa in Holland Y/N, surrounded by beautiful lakes” Ashton said, smiling as he beckoned my body onto his lap as he sat at the dining room table on his laptop. I sighed, reluctant to sit. Since having my meltdown the other day, Ashton had been researching holidays for us, and had come across a wellness centre in Europe. The aim of the centre was to allow individuals to “explore and heal their emotions”. Yuck, I thought.

“I think it would be a great idea babe. Some time off work. I’ve been able to push back some album promotion stuff too with the guys, they’ll continue it without me” Ashton said.

“Ash you can't do that, your album has just come out, you need to promote the shit out of it!” I sighed.

“Yes, but my priority is YOU Y/N” he replied. I smiled at this comment, still feeling bad for him. Him and the other 5SOS boys had been working so hard on the album. I couldn't take Ashton away from that.

“You won't be taking me away Y/N, I need a break too. And I think you could do with one too” he replied, cocking his head to the side and pouting. You couldn't disagree. You did need a little therapy to help you deal with your depression. You'd been to a therapist and doctor endless times, however no medication or yoga position or music cured you.

“Deal, but I want the window seat on the plane” I sighed, finally giving up.

“Deal”

***************

“Welcome, to Escape, a wellness centre” you heard a women at the front desk say to you in a calming voice. You calmly sighed, already feeling relaxed. A bell boy came and took your bags as you checked in. Ashton squeezed your hand and smiled at you, kissing you on the cheek. You were given the keys to your room, and were amazed at how big the room was. You had a king size bed, TV, free mini bar and ensuite, followed by a balcony which had an amazing view of the lake.

“I think I’m going to like it here” I whispered.

*************

The only downside to being at this wellness centre was the group therapy. I totally got why Ashton was so desperate for us to come here, it was due to the therapy techniques. They had couple counselling, 1:1 therapy and this; group therapy. Ashton had made my go to every single activity on offer. I groaned as soon as Ashton said it started at 9am. I crawled my body there, sitting in a circle with him on my left, and the session leader, a blonde girl called Marissa, on my right.

“Welcome to group therapy, my name is Marissa, and I will be leading this session” she welcomed everyone. Throughout the whole session, Marissa went on about our star signs and have they have emotional connections with one another etc blah blah blah. But towards the end of the session I started to agree what she said. She said that the actions we take out on ourselves are never permanent, and that we should not be reminded of them. She also said that pain was never permanent and that any difficulties could be dealt with closely. I decided to book a 1:1 therapy slot with her straight after.

“So tell me Y/N, what brings you here?” she asked me in my session. I sighed, just wanting to run out of the room and cry. I hated talking about myself.

“Well, I don't know if I’m honest. My boyfriend thought it would be good if I came to see you. Al this kinda stuff seems, well rubbish to me”.

“I see. What would you like to talk about?”

I became silent, just wanting to burst open like a balloon, and spill out all of my worries, concerns and fears. I didn't feel confident enough yet, so I decided to open up about the main reason why I was here.

“My attempt to destroy myself a few weeks back”.

“Describe what happened”.

And so I did. I sat there, for 45 minutes, telling Marissa every single detail of how I felt recently. My work stress, my college deadlines, dealing with dating a famous person. I spoke about how my Mum and Dad had gotten divorced when I was young. I talking about the time my Dad and Mum physically fought in front of me. I talked about how my first boyfriend cheated on me, breaking my heart. I was finally able to open up to someone. And I felt so safe afterwards. I finally felt open, and ready to talk to Ashton about how I felt. At the end of the session, Marissa handed me a positive quotes book. At first I sniggered, but turning through the book as I left made me smile. Inside was a small pack of crayons with a colouring page on each page. Each page had a self healing quote. At the front of the book it read

“Every time you find yourself healing a little more, colour in a page”

I decided to colour in the first page, to commence the first chapter of my recovery. The first quote read:

“Healing is an art. It takes time, practice and love”

I walked back into our room, jumped on the bed and started colouring in my first book. As soon as I got comfy, I heard our door unlock, and was greeted by a very relaxed looking Ashton, in a dressing gown, who had just come back from a massage. I giggled.

“Someone looks happy” I said to him. He smiled

“I could say the same for you” he replied. “Do you fancy hiring one of the boats to go on the lake tonight?”

“Sounds lovely” I replied, heading to my wardrobe to choose something to wear to dinner.

***************

I hopped onto the boat, and slipped on my 5SOS merch hoodie, noticing the temperature on the lake dip from earlier. Ashton slipped on his black merch hoodie too.

“We have good taste” I giggled at him, pointing to our matching outfits. Dinner at the restaurant in the centre was beautiful. A buffet full of every food you could think of, from meat to salad, pasta to potatoes. Ashton went up and got fifth, probably sixths. I chucked at my boys’ appetite, that boy could compete in an eating contest and thrash everyone, shame he never ate my cooking. I saved room for desert, admiring the chocolate cake. We spent a few hours in the restaurant, discussing our last few days in this beautiful place.

“Hold on tight!” I heard the boat captain shout. He drove us out onto the lake, I could see the bright sun beginning to set around us. I took a few pictures and selfies of our beautiful surroundings.

“Ash”

“Yeah?”

“I am so sorry”

“What for baby girl?”

“For how I've been around you recently. For feeling low, for doing stupid stuff to mys-” I said. I was interrupted by Ashton wrapping his entire chest around me, kissing my forehead.

“Baby you don't need to apologise. I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling this way for so long. I wish I knew what to do, I now know how to help you more. That’s why I thought coming here would be good, for the both of us.” he whispered.

“I feel so much better coming here Ash. I emotionally feel healed. Like when this trip is over, I can go back to work. Actually fuck that, fuck this job. I’m quitting. That place never made me happy” I sigh.

“That's my girl, always grabbing life by the balls!!” Ashton screamed and cheered. I feel a finger trail along my left arm. “What about...this..baby?”. I instantly know what he’s talking about.

I sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m scared Ash. I don’t want to do it anymore. I won’t let myself do it anymore. When we get back, i’m going to go and see a proper psychologist. I want to stop Ash, and I think with you by my side I can”. I sighed, looking at the beautiful sky.

“I won't let you go, Y/N, I'm here. Always”.

Masterlist

#5sos imagines #5sos fanfic #5sos #5secondsofsummer #ashton irwin #ashton5sos #calum hood #calum 5sos #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #michael clifford #michael 5sos #5sos imagine #sadimagine #5sossad #5sos want you back #valentine #lietome #youngblood

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xxgiganmasterxx · 7 years

Text

The Rookie and His Jiralhanae

New Mombasa, South Kenya, Earth

2202 hours, 20, October 2552

Subject: Lance Corporal J.D. Nickname: Rookie

The ODST opens his eyes trying to wake up, only to drop down. The sudden noise of a Covenant Phantom flying by the ODST's drop pod made the Soldier, commonly nicknamed ‘Rookie’ shoot his head up in response. His vision slowly returning to him; His visor crackles with static. He looks up to his upper right to see the same ship waking him up flying away between the rows of the cracked windows. He looks down the lower window to find himself lodged in the side of the building, the drop pod's door sends out a ton of steam. He looks up at a second phantom flying and following the first one; Rookie just hopes that the phantom didn't notice his pod opening up. The steam stops then suddenly the door tosses itself outwards at incredible speed, falling onto the hood of a police car with its lights still on; Rookie looks down - he was at least twenty feet up in the air. The shock trooper collects all of his courage in a simple inhale and exhale. The soldier jumps from his pod and lands - on his feet - yet the impact still was painful. He puts his hand down, grunting in pain, then replaced by a series of pants. He steadies himself back up to his feet, his helmet starts a beeping noise like that of a heart monitor. He looks at the cop car still with the pod's door buried in the hood.

The ODST looks to his right and sees a faint silhouette of an ‘Optican’ dispenser. He limps over towards the first aid station and sees two untouched canisters of the stuff; when he walks over to the distributor, it started a jingle with a robotic voice: ‘Need immediate medical assistance? Choose Optican! Fast, accurate diagnosis, or your money back!’ Rookie tilts his head as the screen above flickers with a green circle, detailed by two smaller white rings in the arrangement of eyes. He merely shrugs it off and grabs one of the canisters. Rookie opens it up and applies it unto his bruises, healing them very quickly.

The Rookie just tosses the little gel canister aside and walks to his right, a blown up bus was in his way. He looks at the back end - oddly he didn't see any bodies in there. The ODST looks to the left side of the bus, he rests his left hand on the surface of the vehicle and walks forward, hand dragging along the way.

"This way! I heard banging from this direction!" The ODST hears this and crouches down, he looks for a good hiding spot and sees a box next to a curb at the right; he quickly runs for it, his head bobbing up and down as he goes. He reaches the box and hides behind it, his spec ops SMG in hand, he suddenly stands up and aims down the sights, to see no covenant coming from that direction. Rookie looks to his left and hears footsteps coming from a damaged semi truck with a roadblock standing in front of it; this sudden news gave him an idea! His free hand grabs a fragmentation grenade from his assortment of pouches, and he waits. He sees a golden armored Jiralhanae captain walking along, with three grunts stumbling along behind him, two minors and one major, perfect! He tosses the grenade in front of the Brute captain-major who takes notice of when it landed in front of his two-toed feet.

"Grenade!" The brute yelled with his deep voice and jumped to the left of him, the grunts took notice and jumped in fright. BWOOM! Grunt bodies were flying in the air, the semi was caught in the radius and exploded as well, even the Brute was harmed in the explosion, his power armor sustaining substantial damage. The captain shakes his head and gets up on one knee, yet before he could get up entirely, Rookie gets out of cover and pelts him with bullets. The armor fell off with ease, the alien's face filled with twenty-something holes before falling off on his side, eyes still open from shock. Rookie eases down with his gun and looks at the remains of the truck, taking a bit of pride in his plan, only spending around half of an SMG mag and a grenade.

He looks to his right side to start walking from the box's protection and walks down the slope, the road he is on turns to the left to an acute degree, with three cars and a fallen palm tree scattered around. The ODST steps over the tree, looking at writing on the wall to the left of the soldier which reads ‘Twilight of Man’; He ensured what that meant. He looks forward to a see another Brute squad leader on a raised garden-like structure with his back turned to scold two grunts for accidentally shooting their superior.

"You tiny unggoy could have made me rip you limb from limb!" Rookie takes this as an opportunity to sneak past the Brute focused on giving the unggoy a tongue thrashing, he crouches down again and quietly dashes behind a damaged police car.

"If that ever happens one more time, I will feast on your skulls and wear your skins as a cape!" yelled the Jiralhanae captain - who then gets a whiff of man-flesh in the air. He focuses his nose in the air, Rookie can hear this behind the police vehicle.

"I smell... Human!" The Brute looks behind himself and sniffs the air; he gets his Type-25 Spiker off his hip and loads it; the Jiralhanae walks down the few steps on the platform he and his grunts were on, said grunts follow suit. The ODST sets his SMG down and grabs his pistol from his holster, he springs up and concentrates all of his fire towards the Brute. The power armor of the captain falls apart as rookie unloads his magnum's entire clip, the sudden ambush, and defragmentation of his armor sends the Jiralhanae into a rage. The captain jumps over the cop car and roars as Rookie steps backward from the Jiralhanae jumping from the police car and charges with bloodlust, the ODST takes the empty mag out and tosses it at the Brute, who doesn't flinch at the slightest. The rookie then gets a new magazine from his other pouches and places it in the magnum, sliding the firing mechanism to arm the gun. Before he could aim down the sights, the Brute gets close to him and punches him in the stomach, knocking all the wind out of him. Rookie falls on his back and aims up as the Brute raises his huge two-toed foot up to squish his head, The Orbital Drop Shock Trooper fires at the jaw of the Brute entering through the bottom and up through the brain. The Jiralhanae gargles as he falls flat on his back; both grunts just watch in horror as the human dispatches their leader, dropping their guns and hugging each other, Rookie takes notice of this as he gets up from the ground and scares them off with his free hand in the form of a claw.

"Run for it!"

"I don't want to die!" Both grunts turned their heels away from the body of the Brute and run away from the human shock trooper, arms flailing around in a panic state. Rookie puts his pistol back on his hip and walks over to his SMG, grabbing it off the ground. Before he could head off again, he notices another first aid station on the wall to the right. He quickly jogs to it and takes one of the canisters to use it to heal his stomach, but just in case of another attack, Rookie grabs another and places it inside a spare pouch before heading back to the street's direction.

He turns his head to the left and sees a patrol of grunts, one of them turns his head and spots Rookie.

"Hey! I see a human!" The other grunts turn their heads to the shock trooper and fire at him with their plasma pistols and needlers; Rookie takes cover behind a small amount of debris in the street. The ODST turns his head to see a Brute captain with a red plasma rifle in his hand trying to flank him, so he aims his SMG and shoots back at the Jiralhanae, the captain's power armor flickering as he steps back. Before he could pop his armor, Rookie hears a clicking sound from his gun. The ODST looks at his gun and takes off the ammo clip on the side and quickly replaces it with a fresh clip. He aims his SMG at where the captain was only to find him gone. He tilts his head up in confusion, then straightens it from realization. The Shock Trooper brings his gun upwards and fires at the imposing shadow of the Brute captain who attempted to flank him again, the armor absorbed the bullets before finally breaking apart, a couple of bullets enter the Jiralhanae captain's skin before the behemoth punches Rookie down on the ground and roars. Rookie loosens his grip on his gun, and it slides away a short distance, the captain laughs at the Rookie and aims his plasma rifle at his head. The ODST reaches for his knife on his harness and stabs the hand of the Brute, while this causes him to lose focus and not aim at his head three shots from the Brute plasma rifle singe his chest causing a burning pain. Rookie rolls out of the way with his knife still in his hand; the Jiralhanae falls on his knees with his hand in pain. The Rookie took this opportunity to get on the Brute's back to take the knife and stab his trachea. The Brute's throat punctured by the knife now spilling red and bluish spots on the ground, it makes one final effort to kill the human with his bare hands by reaching out with its claws extended, scratching his gauntlet. The Rookie gets off as the captain succumbs to his wounds and falls face down in a pool of red and blue blood. He then looks up and away from the Brute's body and sees the grunts freaking out, except one, an ultra.

"Do not fret my brothers! We shall avenge master!" Rookie shakes his head and gets his magnum out.

"For the proph- Glagh!" Light blue blood spews from a bullet hole made by the magnum the shock trooper was holding, the other grunts tried their best to protect their faces with their arms from the ODST, But in quick session, were killed with ease. The rookie set his pistol on his holster and was about to get his SMG until he hears a phone ringing. He perks his head up and turns his head to the left and sees the middle stationary phone booth operational, so he walks to it and taps it, his eyes looking upward as he reads a message in the helmet feed.

>...<

<<<SUPERINTENDENT ONLINE>>>

>...<

AUTH: [DARE.V.500341[SI]]

SEC: [ONI.PRTCL-1A]

PASSWORD: [VERGIL]

CONNECTION ESTABLISHED!

>...<

>>>DOWNLOADING MAP<<<

>...<

The feed suddenly disappears, and Rookie was left confused. He then gets a notification on his helmet's inner compass; a diamond shape appears near the east side of the map. He looks in said direction. At least he knew where to go, but for now, it was time to rest, as fighting Brutes was taking a big toll on him. Little did he know that from afar, someone was watching him.

Sometime before in a building nearby. A female Jiralhanae captain opens the door to the open inner garden of the building complex with two jackal snipers following her quick and long steps; she looks at the sleeping unggoy between the grass with her arms crossed. The jackal sniper with a beam rifle sneaks up to one of the sleeping grunts on the pavement, making a kig-yar's equivalent of a chuckle, and kicks him down the stairs.

"Owowow! Y-you bully-jerk!" Both jackals start laughing at the grunt's misery, the other grunts wake up and start complaining about being awoken from sleep. The Brute captain rolls her eyes.

"Idiot kig-yar..." She said under her breath. The closer jackal sniper, the one with the covenant carbine in hand, looks at her, remarking in his species' tongue. She looks at said jackal sniper growling at his ignorance while glaring her crimson eyes, who in turn curls up. The unggoy that got kicked down gets back up and walks to the captain.

"Ummm... can big leader tell jackals to stop bullying poor, poor Yapdip?" The grunt asked as he scratches his head, she turns her attention downwards and knees the grunt away, obviously not caring for either kig-yar or unggoy.

"Grow thicker skin unggoy!" The grunt gets back up starting to cry, as it was typical for his kind, but she only rolls her eyes and looks at the kig-yar snipers. She had enough of them, so she barks at them to listen up, they both look.

"Kig-yar! I will go to other captains and help them with patrolling! You two secure upper parts of the building!" The female captain said the kig-yar complains in response. She was having none of that and punches one of them square in the chest. The kig-yar falls in pain as the other one looks at her wide-eyed.

"You're lucky that I won't grab your skulls in my hand and crush them!" Both kig-yar snipers freak out and start running to the other door as she ordered, she flares her nostrils as they leave to the upper floors, The female captain turns around and moves to the door she came in through.

The reality is - she lied to the jackals, she is fed up with them, enough of the grunts, and enough of the covenant and it's holy war in general. She had seen enough for 3 lifetimes. She walks through the cluttered hallways of the building, she sees the door on the other side. As The female Jiralhanae opens it to have some little time off, she hears a local payphone ringing behind the door, it was faint. She thinks to herself that a human was calling for help. She opens the door, looks to the left and walks to the building to her right, and there she smells something: Human! She reaches for her Type-25 Brute shot and moves into cover behind the raised platforms of the steps. She looks over to see a human in armor, unlike that which she has seen before and during the invasion of New Mombasa. If anything, this is the last human she saw alive in the previous four or so hours. She sees the human step away from the phone booth and looks to his right, and she still looks at the human. Then she regards to the lower left of where the man is standing: A pile of three unggoy corpses and a fallen Jiralhanae captain. She was both impressed and concerned about a human defeating a fellow Brute captain, even if she does not care much about her race at this point. The man walks up to the nearest edge of the stairway to the building, he hoists himself up and sits down on the ledge, he reaches over to his back and adjusts his backpack from being shaken up. She looks at the tiny man with her Brute shot lowered; she could see three plasma scorches on his chest armor. Said little man takes a medical canister and opens it, he starts to apply the substance from the cartridge to his chest to mend himself. She rears her head lightly as the human who took down her fellow captain, and a few grunts were trying to recover from the battle. Seeing the human mending himself causes her subconscious to take an instinct Brutes rarely have, usually only around their young children - she felt like she had to protect the human. She looks at her Brute shot and decides to approach the human in a nonaggressive manner, so she quickly thinks up a way to universally convey that. She places her weapon on her back and waits for the human to get off the ledge and start walking on the road, again his gun in hand. He was heading towards the east, and the female Brute took this opportunity to encounter the human from behind. As the Jiralhanae stands up, she calmly walks down the stairs. The human walks along not noticing the female following him.

Rookie turns to the left and sees a large street lockdown door in the way, the only thing there being a broken car and the decaying body of a marine. The ODST sighs in disappointment. Great. Now he has to go the long way around. He thinks to himself that as long as he doesn't encounter another bru-

"Hmmm... That is not where you want to go. I can lend hand to help you leave this city." Rookie loses his train of thought and jolts as he hears the Brute behind him speak. He only grumbles quietly to himself as he turns towards the Jiralhanae with his SMG aimed at her. To his surprise, the captain has her Type-25 Brute shot on her back, with her palms facing outwards to the ODST. The rookie tilts his head, confused about what the captain is doing, but more importantly that the Brute was, oddly enough, a female. Rookie looks at the body of the woman, and even though she has the necessary body structure of her species, the features that made her stand out are the thick thighs where her upper legs armor can't wrap around it as good and the somewhat thinner waist she has. Her chest armor was still the same as the other Brute captains, yet under said armor was a pair of big breasts that level the armor higher. Rookie looks upwards at her face and sees her piercing red eyes, which while not entirely hostile, are sending out an aura of dominance.

"Tiny man! Do you want out of city or not?" The female captain asks the ODST with her iffy grammar, placing her right hand on her hip. The rookie looks up and points to her brute shot on her back with his left hand; she squints her eyes a bit trying to follow.

"What tiny man? What do you need with my weapon?" The Rookie continues to point his hand and then points to the ground. The captain rolls her eyes.

"Alright fine! But that is the only thing this captain will do for you tiny man!" She brings her hand on her hip and moves it to her back; she takes the Brute shot off her back and gets to one knee to set her gun down next to her feet. The shock trooper looks at the Type-25 Brute shot, and he brings his left hand to beckon her to come to him by brings his fingers up and curling them multiple times. The captain sighs and gets up on both feet and slowly walks up to him with her palms still outward like last time; Rookie still keeping his SMG aimed at her. She makes a few final steps in front of the human and stands proudly. The rookie lowers his SMG to a passive position, he looks up at her face under her mask and looks closer into her eyes, he could see her eyes clearer with small cracks underneath and her large raised eyebrows.

"See? This captain will not kill, tiny man. Now can this captain lead you on her way out of city?" The female Brute asked Rookie, who thinks on the matter. Eventually, The ODST reaches his left palm out to shake her hand. Her eyes dart downwards, and she blows through her nostrils and grips the shock trooper's hand in her own, warm grasp. The pressure she was applying was hurting the human's palm but not breaking any bones. As the female Jiralhanae lets go of him, the rookie retracts his arm back and flicks his wrist up and down.

"Glad we agree." The captain tilts her head to her right and turns around and slowly starts walking back to her Brute shot. Rookie looks at her backside; he sees her round buttocks move in unison with her legs, he then looks up and sees the Jiralhanae staring back at him, who luckily could not follow his eye movements through his helmet.

"So if you want to make it out of this city, follow me, tiny man." The ODST nods slightly and follows the Brute captain to her phantom. As the female captain grabs her grenade launcher, Rookie goes beside her and looks to the right of him and the captain to see a locked door. The female brute notices this as she carries her weapon in her arms.

"Blasted door! It wasn't locked before... Stand back tiny man, I got this!" She casually pushes the rookie aside and aims her brute shot at the metal door; she fires three quick rounds at the obstacle, each grenade blast causing a massive dent in the door. The captain looks at the door, seeing it barely standing. She walks to the door and kicks it open, the door falls, creating a banging noise. Rookie whistles as the brute woman look behind her.

"My phantom is this way, follow tiny man!" She steps over the broken door and places the Brute shot on her back again; Rookie follows suit.

It took around two minutes of walking in dark hallways for the two to exit the other side to her the phantom dropship floating above a half-destroyed office building.

"There's my ship; we'll climb rubble up to it." Rookie looks up at the fifteen story building and then at where the Brute was and sees she was already at the first few steps of the rubble.

"Come tiny man! This captain will not carry you!" Rookie clears his throat and locks his SMG on his hip as they both start climbing on the building's former wall. The captain looks downward at Rookie surmounting up slowly just to get some even footing, yet he isn't losing any balance. Still, she was not patient with the human.

"You crawl too slow! A grunt would climb faster than you!" The female Brute said to the rookie. The shock trooper shrugs his shoulders and eventually catches up with her. When they both reach the fifth floor; the female captain brings herself up with Rookie not too far behind. She looks at the many cubicles that were not blown up, she turns around and sees the Rookie halfway there; the ODST waves at her and brings himself up. He stands next to the captain and places his knuckles at his waist and head up high, silently boasting. The female Brute silently chuckles at the ODST and playfully slaps his back, causing him to stumble forward. She looks ahead and sees a flight of stairs still standing up.

"This way tiny man, we'll take stairs." The female Jiralhanae said as she moves along the abandoned, obviously quickly abandoned cubicles. Rookie shrugs and instinctively takes his SMG from his hip and carries it in his arms in case of any other covenant soldiers she may or may not know about. They took the stairs from floor five to floor ten. The Brute walks in a straight line while the ODST walks around the cubicles in a zigzag pattern trying to distract himself. The female rolls her eyes at the human and turns to him.

"Stop messing around, tiny man!" The rookie hears this, sighs and just follows the captain. As they climb up to the second last floor, The rain once again starts to pour down against the windows. The Rookie looks to his right side and watches the droplets fall against the windows and near the edge of the demolished part of the building. As he looks up, he sees a black sky, only interrupted by gigantic trails of smoke emitting from eerie red glow coming out between the skyscrapers that were left standing. The female Jiralhanae notices this and slowly walks back to him. Rookie thinks to himself about his other squadmates that he was supposed to meet up with when they land down in the city. The female Brute sighs as she thinks of a way to have him come along. An unusually dirty idea came to her head, she then grins underneath her mask as she takes her chest plate off and squeezes her fingers between her undersuit covering her chest. She gets behind the rookie and brings her hand up.

The Brute woman's big breasts park down on the ODST's shoulders - this causes him to gasp in surprise and tense up, sending a shiver down his spine. She looks down at him and brings her arms to his, gripping them softly, yet securely. The Rookie tilts his head up as the female Jiralhanae brings her face closer down behind his head and says in an unusually soft tone.

"Listen, the other humans you must be thinking about are gone. But now you have Alba~" The rookie never asked for something so unusual like this to happen, yet it was a part of his nature to accept the odd, as it proved to benefit him more often than not. He also deducted that Alba was her name; the trooper feels happy that he didn't have to ask her when he had the chance. Alba smiles at the rookie under her mask and takes his gun from his hands and sets it on a table near the ODST. She also, in a fluid motion, brings her right arm under the legs of Rookie and sits down on her own. The Rookie admittedly felt nice in the Brute woman's bosom, who then takes off most of her armor plating and sets it leaning next to an empty cubicle, except her helmet, while Rookie just enters a dreamlike trance.

She puts the shock trooper down on his back; Rookie notices what she’s doing to him, she takes his magnum and tosses it to the side next to her Brute shot. She turns her back to his face, the sheer size of her ass near his groin being a lot to take in. Alba rears her head to the left, her piercing slightly glowing eyes look back at the Rookie, he looks up at her masked face.

"We don't have all night." She just said to him as she faintly moves her legs a bit, making her ass jiggle somewhat, Rookie awkwardly but excitedly nods in approval.

"Now, tiny man can relax while Alba takes care of this, yes?~" She leans forward and gets on her hands and knees, and she moves backward so Rookie can only see her waist and groin above and in front of him. Alba leans in closer to his body; she looks down at his heavy pants to see a bulge appearing. The Jiralhanae woman chuckles and takes her fingers to bring down the comparatively small zipper. She looks at the shock trooper's teal underwear, the Rookie's bulge now appearing more evident to her. Alba smirks as she uses her other hand to bring the underwear down and sees the rookie's half harden shaft, yet to her, the new and unusual dick’s head still hides from her. The Jiralhanae woman licks her lips inside her helmet and brings the human's dick out from it's hiding place, the fleshy pink of the cock head contrast with the rest of the regular skin color of his flesh.

"Hm~ You seem pretty big for species that is so small..." Alba says as she takes her palm around the human's penis at the base and slowly strokes him, his foreskin retracting and stretching as she goes along. Rookie looks downward at from his end and barely sees his shaft up in Alba's hand; his heart beats against his chest from even the faintest touch of Alba, let alone the female Brute giving him a hand job. The rookie exhales and brings his left arm up to caress her waist slowly; He looks up at the female Jiralhanae's crotch and sees a suspicious squiggly diamond-shaped spot growing ever so slowly. Alba turns her head to her left a tad as the human touches her side, she smirks, and her palm now also goes in a circular motion around Rookie's cock. The female Jiralhanae takes her sight back to the human's penis, going a bit faster. She gets an idea. She brings her chest closer to Rookie's groin and takes her free hand to press her chest around the human's cock, slowly rubbing her big boobs against his shaft along with her palm. Rookie exhales after feeling his dick engulfed in Alba's bosom, and as he tilts his head back to the floor, his grip on the female Jiralhanae's waist gets a bit tighter. She chuckles in response and looks at his member's tip rubbing against her boobs; she sees a bit of the man's precum coming out. She takes her hand that was holding his dick and brings her thumb to the tip, rubbing the pre around the head of his penis; said penis twitches slightly in response. Alba let's go of the human's member to bring her thumb to her face, under her decorative helmet her tongue laps around her lips in anticipation and she brings her other fingers to tilt her mask up from her mouth, now free to do as she pleases. The female Jiralhanae takes her thumb to her mouth and sucks it, experiencing the delicious taste of the human's precum for the first time. She brings her thumb out, making a popping sound.

Alba moves back to her head level with Rookie's groin, Taking her muzzle close to his shaft; The Jiralhanae woman sniffs the air around the man's cock and smells his intoxicating musk, the sensitive sense of smell an integral part of her kind. She opens her mouth and lets loose of her long tongue, much like that of a dog; licking his member with care. The Rookie grunts in pleasure, thrusting his hips as a response to the Brute's warm - no, hot tongue now tasting his hard cock. His grip on Alba's waist gets tighter. Alba feels the human’s penis poke the tip of her nose, she grins and brings her mouth down the man's member, grabbing both his thighs, his left one from underneath. Alba rolls her tongue around Rookie's shaft inside her mouth, coating it with warm saliva. She brings her head back up to take the shock trooper's dick out from her mouth to breathe. Alba smiles and then proceeds to lick the human's cock again.

"Told you, following me was a good idea, tiny man~" she whispered with her tongue still hanging out between her tusks. Rookie arches his back as he starts to get closer to climax, his hand gripping Alba as tight as he can, staring at her growing wet spot around her clothed groin. The Jiralhanae woman feels this and keeps licking the rookie's large dick. She tilts her muzzle to the left so her tongue can wrap around the human's penis. The ODST now simply couldn't hold it in anymore; He presses his head hard on the ground, still arching his back. His cock ejaculated a sudden burst of semen at the side of the Jiralhanae's mask, she levels her head back in position and licks his cock once again. The Rookie's cum shoots up into the back of her mouth and onto the tongue of the Jiralhanae woman, even though it starts to drool out the side of her mouth, some of it also gets on her right tusk. Alba chuckles as the last drops of jizz that she couldn’t capture ooze out and travel down his shaft, Rookie still keeping his head in the same position, he lets go of Alba's waist and pats it, She smiles in response.

"Alba is glad you like that~ Now, shall we get to our phantom?" Alba says as she lets go of Rookie, licking her lips to swallow his cum while getting up to her feet. Before the ODST could do the same, the Brute woman simply picks him up by the back and the legs and walks to the last two flight of stairs, abandoning her deep blue armor plating and their weapons.

"We won't need weapons, tiny man." The female said to the rookie, who sighs and places his right hand on her back. As the Brute woman goes upstairs with the tiny man in her arms, she opens the last door, and the soldier sees the phantom floating around the height of Alba's hips. Both Rookie and Alba look up and see the rain still pouring down from the dark abyss of the midnight sky. He taps her shoulder, and she looks at him; he points to the phantom and brings a three sign, she grins under her helmet and gets ready to run, the ODST points one finger out, then two, then three! Alba makes a run for it to the phantom, easily skipping two meters with each stomp, and surprisingly fast as the Rookie brings his hands over his head, still in her arms, now tightly secured against her torso. Alba jumps up on the boarding ramp of the phantom and looks at the human.

"You are a worthy companion, tiny man." She says as she looks down at herself and sees her wet spot from before. After a small pause, she whispers to him:

"Now, Alba will have you." Her crimson eyes look back at the rookie and lay him down on the ramp between her legs.

Alba brings her hand to her zipper and slides it down, the brown belly part of her bodysuit opens up to reveal her stomach and more importantly, her wet pussy. She turns her back on the Rookie and sits on his lap, Rookie's dick still hanging out and erect again. Alba lowers her left hand and moves his underwear down further and frees his testicles as well. The Jiralhanae woman smiles as she takes her palm away from his groin and quickly plays with herself, the female Brute releases a deep quiet moan, she sets her arm to stand to the left of Rookie. Alba looks down and rubs her clit against the human's dick, coating it with her sticky juices. Rookie slowly starts panting as the labia of the Jiralhanae rub against his shaft, and the ODST looks at the ass of the mighty woman and places both of his palms on her big butt. She looks back and takes her free hand to grab his cock, aiming the tip of the penis straight into her vagina. Alba brings herself down and slides the man's dick into her welcoming cunt; a deep moan exits her throat as she spreads her legs apart to stabilize herself.

"Oohhh~ L-like th-th~ that t-tiny mman?" Alba said as she raises her hips up and down in a slow manner, Rookie's left palm reaching up to grab her waist once again. The sexy Jiralhanae smiles and slowly waves her hips in a circular motion, the human's shaft going along with her warm pussy. Alba resumes with sliding on the ODST's cock again, slowly gaining speed as she goes along. She brings her right arm close to her chest and uses her fingers to massage her right nipple, rubbing and somewhat pulling on it; she closes her left eye and bites her lower lip underneath her mask.

Rookie gropes her ample ass with his right palm and sees Alba toying with her tit; he gets an idea, his other hand travels up from the Brute's waist and moves it underneath her breast of the same side, joining her handiwork. Alba notices this and looks at her left breast bouncing by the human's hand; she chuckles between her moans and looks at him.

"Hehe-hah! I-I see you're-aha~ mm-making ahhh a move~" Rookie brings his palm to her nipple and starts thrusting a little bit slower than the pace she was going. She feels the gloved hand of the ODST grip her areola. She moans a tad bit higher than usual for a Brute and feels the rookie's other paw grasp on her ass.

"C-come on t-tiny man~ Gah! You c-hah can f-fuck faster than, ahhh that!" The ODST saw that as a challenge for him, he brings his legs closer and increases the speed of his humping as her vaginal walls close in on his big shaft and the Jiralhanae's moaning grows higher in both sound and pitch.

"Ngh! Ah fuck, hahaha! Ohhh~ I-is th-that it? Mmma~ C-come on then!" She feels her pussy grip the tiny man's cock as she gets ready to cum herself, she couldn't help but yell for more.

"GIVE I-IT YOUR A-AH, ALL TINY M-MAN!" Rookie slides his hand away from her breast to her waist and thrusts wildly into the Jiralhanae woman, he, himself close to cumming inside her, the ODST holds onto Alba as tight as he can. The female Brute takes her right hand and places it on her corresponding knee; she took back some of her self-control to praise the human.

"Looks l-like, hah! There's a-ah! A warrior i-in you yet, t-tiny mman!" Alba said as her pussy constricts the shaft of the human, she brings her legs close to each other as they now shake violently, her eyes closing as she rides through her orgasm with her tiny man. Rookie looks up to feel her walls wrap around his cock even tighter than before, this sent him over the edge and carried out one final thrust before he shoots his semen straight into her womb. Alba rips open her eyes again as she feels the ODST's seed expand around her pussy, she looks down at the mess they made, some of Rookie's cum trickling out of her cunt, and along down his balls, a few drops fall onto the boarding ramp of the phantom. Both human and Brute breathing heavily, staying frozen in their positions for a couple of moments. Alba slowly bring herself back up to her feet, she looks down at the Rookie and sees he was too exhausted to move at the moment.

Rookie looks up and weakly waves at her; Alba rolls her eyes and chuckles at him; she picks up the human by underneath his arms and drags him to the center of the phantom's bay.

"Stay here tiny man; I'll start the phantom, we'll get out of city." She said as she brings her hand to her zipper and brings it up above her womanhood, her stomach and big breasts still peaking out. She walks to the control panel and sits down on the command chair. Rookie watches her pushing buttons on the control panels and hears the boarding ramp go up on the hinges. Rookie listens to the phantom starting up, the same sound that woke him up only a few hours ago. It gradually rises from the building and swims through the air like a metal whale, going a moderate speed along the skyscrapers.

"Seems everything is purple across the board, we'll get out of city in no time, tiny man!" Alba told Rookie as she drives the phantom to the north-west of New Mombasa. Rookie looks back at the closed door of the phantom dropship and sees a bit of his sticky effort slowly sliding down; he tilts his head at it, he thinks to himself that this was indeed what was happening to him. The ODST sighs and takes his arms behind his head for support and look up at the ceiling. Alba looks back at the Rookie lying down, relaxing. The female Brute looks forward again and sees the last few skyscrapers in view, she turns right from the final building and sees they were home free from New Mombasa. Alba smiles as she presses a few buttons and activates the ship's autopilot, with no specific destination yet in mind other than away from the battlefield.

The Brute woman gets out of the pilot seat and walks over to the rookie, zipping her suit down completely again. Rookie sees the Jiralhanae's pussy suddenly towering over him.

"Ship is on autopilot." She turns around and sits on her knees beside the ODST's groin. She places her large paws on his chest and feels his armor he still has on, her brilliant eyes staring at the visor of the human, faintly reflecting off of it. The rookie stares back at her, and his dick starts to flex up a bit. Alba notices and drags her right hand to the human's penis and takes both her thumb and index finger and slowly rub the tip. With approximately close eye contact and in complete silence, Alba looks down at the ODST's cock and points it towards her clit. Rookie looks down and sees his dick entering the Jiralhanae woman's vagina once again; this reentry made the shock trooper exhale, and sets his hands aside his body. He slowly thrusts his hips upward; Alba moans and swiftly takes her hands off Rookie's chest, the ODST was taken by surprise by the sudden move. She brings them up to her helmet which she finally lifts up off her head, Alba's face revealing to the Rookie; her hair was short, spiky and black, her bangs resting on her forehead. The female Jiralhanae's face, covered with scars from the past, the right side of her lips marked by a long pink mark behind her tusk extending up to her snouts bridge, a horizontal older wound traveling into her hairline behind her right eye, a tiny scar also on the left edge of her jaw.

"Finally we h-have real - oh!~ P-privacyy! No ah! N-need to hurry... Aghah! Now~..." She says as her long tongue hangs out from her mouth, the end coating her chest. She takes her helmet with her right hand and sets it down next to her leg, then her right palm reaches to her chest and pushes her significant assets together. Rookie gives an okay sign with his left hand and goes a tad bit faster. Alba smiles at the human's sense of humor and brings her tongue end between her cleavage. The ODST nods at the sight of what Alba is doing; he clutches the thighs of the Jiralhanae and goes a little faster than before. The female moans and brings her tongue back into her mouth, her saliva still traveling down between her breasts; Rookie somewhat slow down with his thrusting.

Alba looks down at the human and grins, she leans far forward to meet him face to face, her huge boobs pressing against his chest. She places both her hands beside Rookie's head; her penetrating warm eyes meet his bluish visor.

"Hehe, gah! Oh, t-tiny man~ Ugh! N-now it's, - Aghah! Alba's turn!~" She spoke with her pitch going somewhat higher; she raises her hips up, with only the tip of Rookie's cock in her, and slams her waist down, she repeats this method in quick succession. The ODST moans loudly and tilts his head on the floor, Alba smiles and opens her mouth; her long tongue slides out of her maw and licks the human's visor, even fogging up his helmet in the process as she breathes heavily, synchronized with her lower parts work. She reaches his right arm at his side with her own and brings it up to level with their faces. Rookie takes his other arm and lays it on top of Alba's back as he watches her long tongue lick the visor, her hot breath fogging his vision. He doesn’t care about his helmet being brushed around by the female Brute's tongue, the pleasure and love the woman was giving to him is well worth it. The ODST takes his left hand and holds Alba's right palm, fingers interlocking, faintly shaking. This earned a chuckle from Alba as she speeds up her humping, her juicy vagina squeezes Rookie's hard cock, he tightens his left arm around Alba as much as he can. The Alien's breath quickens as both the ODST and the Brute woman are becoming close to orgasm. She grips the human's hand tight without crushing any bones and leans her head on his shoulder and neck. She brings her tongue back into her mouth so she can speak openly, both of them staring back at each other as best as they could, the left side of her head pressing against his helmet.

"I-it sseems, ah! We ma-match very w-w-well Ngh! Ti-tiny mmhhm mma-ahn!" Alba said as they both give in and cum. Rookie's semen once again enters through the Brute's cervix, warming her up even further. She closes her eyes as her tiny man's cum seeps out between her vagina and his dick once again; her pants matching with Rookie's, he looks Alba and nuzzles his helmet against her face.

The Jiralhanae woman opens her eyes again and smiles at the ODST, the edges of her mouth rising next to her eyes, her eyebrows retaining their angry resting shape, though rookie swore he saw them flicker a little bit with genuine happiness.

"My Tiny man~ Hah. You are such a strong warrior~..." Alba stayed still for a few moments until she slowly starts to get off the human, Rookie's left hand sliding off her back and onto his stomach. Alba looks down at the messy human's penis resting on his balls, covered in both their sexual fluids, she smirks and crawls down to meet her face with his cock one more time. She grabs the human's dick and lets her tongue out and wraps it around the base; Alba loved the taste of the aftermath their lovemaking had produced. The Jiralhanae opens her mouth wide and brings her maw down, swallowing the shock trooper's member whole, the brute woman then brings her head back up after cleaning her tiny man's dick; Alba kisses the tip. Rookie looks down at Alba and takes his left arm to rub the short hair of the Brute woman, she chuckles and takes her hands to bring her chest cloth over her breast and lays down on her right side. Placing her elbow on her helmet, turning her backside in the direction of and near the ODST's face.

Alba takes the fingers on her left hand between her legs to scoop out as much of the human's cum as she can and brings it up to her face, flicking her tongue around her fingers with a certain grace. Before sending them into her mouth and quickly taking them out to make a popping noise, any trace of fluid gone. Rookie places his flat hands on either side of his visor after watching Alba; he sits up and returns his junk into his teal underwear and zips his pants back up. The Brute woman notices this and brings her claw close to her chest, smiling at him.

"Ohhh tiny man~!" She said in a coy tone, this grabs Rookie's attention, and he looks at her presenting for him.

"Will you let Alba wait any longer, tiny man?" Rookie sighs and shakes his head in response, waving his fingertips horizontally across his neck. He’s tapped. The Brute woman tilts her head at the human; she groans for a moment, then all the sudden her mouth widens again as she starts to laugh because she drained him of all he had and then some, secretly knowing he almost did the same to her.

"Hahahaha! Ohhh, tiny man, I see you're too tired; that must mean you're satisfied with Alba!" She zips her suit back up and gets on her feet. The rookie just lets her pick him up and set him upright, she smiles at him and kisses the top of his helmet; Her tusks colliding with the surface. The Jiralhanae woman walks to the pilot's chair and sits down to work with the ship controls. The ODST nods and takes his hand to wipe off her saliva and fog from his visor. The ODST then looks to his left, and he sees a panel filled with buttons near the walkway to the phantom's pilot seat, he tiredly walks over it and tilts his head to the many assortments of yellow, green, red, blue, and purples. He points his finger waving it around to guess what each one does.

"Tiny man, come here!" Alba called for the shock trooper; he brings his head up and goes to his right, into the small, cramped, and dimly lit cockpit. Alba turns to the ODST standing next to the chair she's sitting in, his hands on the co-pilot chair’s headrest. The Jiralhanae instead picks him up and lets him sit on her lap.

"We'll be traveling for a while; the ship is heading for the northern part of this continent. Rest with me now, my tiny man~" She says as she wraps her arms around Rookie's torso. The big lady then yawns, opening her mouth extended all the way and her tongue curling up like that of a dog, letting her right leg be on the seat of the chair with her other leg hanging out on the side, she then finally rests her head down and starts sleeping. Rookie feels her warm body all around him. He lays his left hand on her thigh and starts thinking about this bizarre, yet fantastic night of events. Then, he starts thinking about her. Rookie never felt this much love for someone before, even if that someone is an alien gorilla lady he only met at the beginning of the night, who for some odd, yet very welcome reason, wanted to leave with just him as her company. He couldn't wait for the future with his Jiralhanae life partner. He rests his right arm on top of hers and falls asleep, tucked in the warmth of Alba.

#halo #Halo 3 odst #ODST #jiralhanae #brute #rookie #alba

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