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winchesterwild78 · 7 months ago

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Unexpected Hunter Pt 13

Unexpected Hunter Master List

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst,SMUT, mention of pregnancy, language.

A/N: The ending is here. I hope I did it justice. We will see if our love birds stay together or split. I edited this fast so please overlook any mistakes

All work is my own, don’t take it

18+ Minors DNI

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“Always keep fighting” that’s what Sam said to you, Dean and Eileen. It’s a wonderful concept for many aspects in your life. Through tough spots in relationships, tough days as a parent, through dark mental health days, and of course in the hunting life. You knew being married and loving Dean came with its own unique risks. You were content and even a little naive living the apple pie life with him and your children.

Now with three children at your feet the need to protect became overwhelming after the latest attack. You gave birth shortly after the attack. You had a little boy you and Dean named Jack Castiel Winchester. He was a perfect mix of you and Dean. You were a little surprised to see he had your y/e/c eyes and not Dean’s green eyes. The twins had his green eyes so you assumed Jack would too. It was a wonderful surprise.

After Jack was born, the decision was made to move your family and Sam’s back in the bunker. It wasn’t an easy decision and there were countless arguments between you and Dean and just as many sleepless nights and tears shed. You finally gave in and started to make the bunker your home again. The twins were still young enough they wanted to share a room and baby Jack had his own nursery. You and Dean moved back into your old room and Sam and Eileen moved back into his. Their son also had his own room and there was a nursery set up for Sam and Eileen’s baby girl who was due to arrive in a few short months.

You were all one big family under one safe roof. The adjustment wasn’t too hard for the kids but it was hard on you. You loved having windows you could open and a fenced yard to play outside with the kids in. Now the windowless bunker was your home again. You did your best to put on a smile. You knew this was hard on Dean. You also knew once you all got settled the guys would go hunting again. That scared you more than anything.

You were standing in the kitchen cooking when Eileen came in. She tapped you and signed “are you okay”. You nodded yes. She tapped you and said tell the truth. Tears pricked your eyes and she hugged you. You signed to her “I’m scared. I’m scared I’m going to lose him. We were out and happy. Now here we are again. I don’t want to live here but I’ll do whatever I can to make him happy. He deserves everything and I plan to give it to him.” Eileen hugged you and signed “you’ve given him 3 beautiful children and unconditional love. He has everything.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and turned back to the stove. Eileen helped prep the rest of dinner. You heard baby Jack crying and then Dean say he’s got him.

Dean walked in the kitchen holding your son. He looked at you and saw you had been crying. You turned your back to him trying to hide it. “Hey baby, you okay” he asked concerned. You shook your head yes and kept cooking. He touched your shoulder and tried to get you to look at him. You refused to look. Eileen came over and signed to him “talk to her. She’s scared and sad. Let me take Jack.” Dean handed Jack to her with his bottle and thanked her. She smiled softly and left the room. Dean walked over to you and turned you around. Tears streaming down your face.

“Oh baby, please talk to me. What’s wrong” he said wiping away tears. You cried harder. How could you tell him how unhappy you were when he’s just trying to protect you and your children. Dean held you in his arms and you cried into his chest. He rubbed your back trying to help you calm down. You took a deep shaky breath and looked into his beautiful green eyes. “I’m sorry Dean. I’m trying to be happy with being back. I just miss our house and the yard for the kids. I feel trapped and I’m terrified you’re going to go on a hunt and not come home. We left hunting for our family and damn it we came back to protect them. It’s not fucking fair. Our children deserve a normal childhood. Something you never got. I understand this is all you’ve known, but that’s not true for me. I’m sorry.” You sat down and sobbed.

Dean held you and sighed. “I know baby. This isn’t the life I promised you. I just want to make sure you and our children are safe. After the attack at the house it scared me. You being pregnant with Jack and Bobby and Jodi being so young it scared the hell out of me. I need to keep you four safe. You are my life and I couldn’t deal if something happened to either of you.” He kissed your head.

You whispered “I know. I just need some time to adjust to this life again. I felt safe and happy. Then we got pregnant and I felt like our family was complete and we were going to raise them in that house. Living that apple pie life. I just have to mourn the loss of that life. I love you Dean and I’ll follow you wherever you go. We are a family and we stay together.”

Dean held you and apologized for all of this. He was torn between wanting to protect you four the best way he knew how and making you happy with giving you the life you deserved and wanted. He didn’t know what to do. You stood up and leaned down kissing him. “I love you, Dean. I always will and we will figure this out.” You squeezed his hand as you returned to the stove.

Dean sat at the table for a few more minutes running his hands through his hair. He stood up and walked out of the kitchen. You sighed as you felt the tension in the air. Dean found Sam in the library and he sat down across from him and sighed. “Dude, you okay” Sam questioned. “No I’m not. She’s so unhappy Sam. I want to protect her and the kids but I want her to be happy too. I don’t know what to do. Did we jump the gun moving back here” Dean asked. “No, I don’t think so. We have our wives and children to think of. The bunker is the safest place for all of us. If we go on a hunt we will take the same precautions we took before. Even if we decide not to go on hunts we still have to keep them safe. Too many monsters know who we are and they know we have children. Unfortunately they were all born with targets on their backs. Regardless of where we live, their safety is the priority.” Sam said.

You walked out of the kitchen to tell the guys dinner was ready and you stopped at the doorway when you heard Sam and Dean talking. You heard Sam and he’s right. Your children have targets on their backs because of who their parents are. You sighed and walked in the library. You looked at Dean and gave him a soft, sad smile. Sam stood and walked over to you. He squeezed your shoulder “it’s going to be okay. I know it’s hard, but you and my brother have an amazing relationship. Just keep being open and honest with him. He loves you so much. Everything he’s ever done, even the stupid stuff has been out of love.” You nodded and whispered thank you. You told them dinner was ready and Sam offered to get all the kids in the kitchen.

Dean stood and walked over to you. You put your arms around him and hugged him tight. He grabbed you tighter and pulled you close to his body. Dean’s touch could always ignite a fire inside you and he knew it. He lifted your chin and his lips brushed softly against yours. You felt his breath on your lips. As he placed a soft kiss on your lips he whispered “I love you so much and you’ve given me everything I wished for. A beautiful wife and three beautiful children. It’s more than I deserve and I can’t lose it.” No more words were needed. He ran his hands in your hair and deepened the kiss. You melted at his touch and moaned into his mouth.

You felt his desire and his hardness push against your body.

You bit your lip as he pulled away. His hands started trailing up your body and under your shirt. As he cupped your breasts your head leaned back with a moan. Dean smiled and pulled your hand towards your shared room. As he pulled you inside you tried to protest “Dean we have to feed the kids, we can’t.” “Sammy’s got them. Didn’t you hear him. We’ve got some time” he said as he pushed the door shut and locked it.

Once he locked the door his hands were on you again. He kissed your lips and worked his way down your neck and to your collarbone. You moaned and your thighs clenched. Dean walked you back to the bed and laid you down. His hand pulling at the hem of your shirt. You moaned as his hands danced over your covered breasts. He pulled out your breast. Licking and sucking your nipple. Causing you to moan louder. You felt his desire building as he pressed his hard cock to your leg.

He removed your shirt and bra then kissed down your naked torso to your pants. He looked up at you through lidded eyes and you nodded. Granting him permission to remove your pants. He pulled them and your panties off in one pull. Causing you to giggle. Dean pulled his shirt off with one hand and removed his pants and boxers.

His hard cock springing free. The pink head was covered in pre-cum. You leaned forward and licked it off causing him to moan. You smirked as you leaned back. Dean spread your legs and placed kisses up your thighs and used his fingers to part your folds. You desire dripping. He bit his bottom lip and whispered “damn sweetheart” as he took his fingers and inserted them. You gasped as he hooked his fingers up.

Dean knew your sweet spot and started working you towards your release. You moaned into his mouth when he kissed you and when he worked his down to your breasts you threw your head back and bit your lip trying to stifle the sounds. “Dean I’m gonna cum baby.” “Cum for me baby” he said as he sped up his fingers pumping in and out and rubbing your swollen clit. You hit your release and came hard. Stifling a scream.

As you were coming down Dean placed kisses up your body to your lips. The kiss grew deeper and you both moaned. Dean leaned back and positioned himself between your legs. He pumped his length a few times before running his cock head over your sensitive opening. You gasped and bit your lip.

Dean smirked. “Please Dean” you begged. “Please what, use your words sweetheart” he said with a smirk. “Please make love to me. I need you” you whispered. Dean was never one to “make love” he was more of a fuck them hard and get out before any feelings were caught. He was an incredible giving lover, but he knew the difference between fucking and making love.

With you, he was slow and deliberate. He loved you and it showed in and out of the bedroom. Dean slowly pushed in. You both moaned and gasped at the feeling. Once he bottomed out he stayed still. His forehead resting on yours. Then he started to move.

The sweet symphony of the rhythm of your bodies and the sounds of pleasure filled the room. Your legs wrapped around your husband’s hips as his body pushed into yours. Your hands ran up and down his firm biceps. He captured your lips with his and you felt all your worries and fears melt away. Dean began moaning your name and it turned you on more. His need for pleasure, and closeness to you started to overwhelm him. You felt his pace get faster.

Your eyes went wide. Not because of pain but because of the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling. Dean Winchester was tall, handsome and incredibly gifted in every part of his body. You moved your hips encouraging him to move faster. He growled as you smirked. He kissed you hard and his pace grew along with your arousal.

“Dean, fuck me baby. Fuck me into this mattress.” He groaned and grabbed your hips flipping you over on your stomach. You giggled as you wiggled your ass in the air. That earned you a smack on your right ass cheek. You yelped with pleasure and got on your knees. Dean lined up to your entrance again. This time he pushed in causing you to jolt forward on the bed. You were on your hands and knees as your husband fucked you from behind. He grabbed your hair and pulled your back up flush with his chest. He took his free hand and cupped your breast while kissing your neck. You moaned loudly.

He pushed you gently forward and dug into your hips as he set a faster pace. You took your hand and started chasing your second release. Your body responded to Dean’s touch and it wasn’t long before you felt your coil tighten in your stomach. “Dean, I’m gonna cum again. Oh shit!” You shouted. “Me too baby. Oh fuck!” He grunted as he spilled his seed deep inside your pussy. As he came so did you. Your walls milking his cock of every drop of cum.

Both of you collapsed on the bed and fell into each other’s arms. You snuggled into his chest and he held you tight. He placed a soft his on the top of your head then on your forehead. You smiled softly. He pulled away to grab a washcloth to clean you both up.

When the two of you were clean he laid back down. You sighed. It was half content and half I need to talk to you but not sure how to do that. “What’s on your mind sweetheart” Dean asked. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath sitting up. “I love you with all of my heart, I’m thankful every day for our 3 beautiful, healthy children. I appreciate you being willing to give me the apple pie life I, no we, so desperately wanted. I’m so sorry I’ve made your life harder since we moved back in here. I can’t imagine how hard the decision was for you. I know you Dean. I know you always put everyone first and you’re in a constant state of protection. That’s one of your amazing qualities. You protect those you love. I want you to know I understand why we had to move back. Some of our happiest moments were shared here. We can make this a home, our home. Sure it doesn’t have windows or a white fence, but it has something better. It has love and family. So, let’s do this together. Our family, and Sam’s family. All living here, protecting each other and raising our children together. This is what life is about anyway. Family and the love between them. I love you Dean Winchester and I’ll gladly stand by your side for the rest of my life.”

Dean leaned over and cupped your face. Placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you too Y/N Winchester. As long as we have each other we have it all. Thank you for being willing to do this with me. Together, side by side we will Always Keep Fighting.”

The End

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak

#hes gorgeous #sam winchester #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #so damn sexy

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containatrocity · 2 years ago

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"I knew exactly what kind of critter you were talkin' about, darlin'." Duck shoots back. "Everything can be killed, everything eventually returns to the ground below- and that includes the ghosts. The key, at the end of the day, is finding what puts them there. It ain't bullets, arrows, or hell, even fire an' explosives- because I've tried all of 'em, at least once. But everything meets the reaper one day, even these things. I know it." He's not found the solution yet- but he knows he can, just needs time. Nobody'll die at the savage hands of those things ever again, once he figures it out. Nobody'll lose their brothers, mothers, wives and friends to cruel, twisted fingertips someday, and he's just stubborn enough to live to see it. "Lucky for all of us, I know what kills a possum, at the very least."

He shrugs off his backpack, sitting it down by his feet and unzipping it, kneeling down to dig through it. He doesn't seem to care that he's being appraised- and the sideways grin on his face indicates he's probably used to it, producing a circular saw and a battery, snapping it into place smoothly and testing it just once, the saw whirring to life as he hums. "Yanno, sometimes, I love this job." He observes, moving over to the wall proper to start the process of cutting it open- clearly not too bothered with the idea of safety gear, only the aviator sunglasses tucked into his hair resembling eye protection. "Had a newcomer roll through a few weeks trade me a bottle of Jack Daniels and his crossbow for a week's worth a' food. One of them city-folk yuppies who thinks he's gonna be some kinda outdoorsman with a handle and a stationary target- I even offered t' teach him to hunt, but I mentioned breakin' down a kill and he turned green in the gills. Told 'im I could teach him to fish, there's lakes an' rivers in the forest, but it was the same lament as always 'oh I can't go out there, what if those things find me?' like it ain't stupidity that means yer out there past dusk anyway?"

He listens to her sort through what they have on hand- laughing when she insists one of the jars might be straight cleaning fluid. "Might be ol' Rusty's contribution then, his 'shine'll strip the paint off a car and the rust off a hubcap, but two shots'll have ya fucked up proper. Ain't too bad if there's fruit in it, but my family's one a' the few that still has a little orchard goin' and we're scant until spring so Rus is making it with... hell, I just assume it's corn and his hatred fer God."

He stops, sitting the saw aside and sticking rough hewn fingers into the newly made gaps, pulling the wooden panel away- to a very unhappy looking possum, backed into a corner of the insulation. For a moment, the harsh, resting scowl on his features softens, and that 'predator against prey' bravado fades. "I know, mama, lets get ya loose, alright?" He sighs, hands reaching in to lift a slipped chunk of wood- the creature's tail pinned, unable to get free, it seems. It's a split second before he has it by the scruff of the neck, shaking his head. "Now don't ya worry, I'll get th' little'uns too, no use sendin' you home without yer family, huh?" He moves to stand, stepping outside in a rush and returning with a cage, the agitated critter tucked inside. "Looks like she was just tryin' to get in from the cold, and part of the wall dropped on her. wasn't tryin' to drive ya to insanity."

There's a soft laugh at the idea of that, really. "We don't become those things." He informs, reaching into the wall carefully to start plucking out what the possum had been trying to keep safe- a handful of babies. "They copy us. Not perfectly, but they look like us. Some of us that ain't even here, some of us that ain't even dead. My partner at the station's husband died some six years ago. Walks outta the woods with my uncles an' aunties, my brothers I know are alive an kickin' every single night. They aren't us, not really. We don't become them- but if you know somethin' I don't, darlin, I'm all ears."

He closes the cage and settles in to fix the wall. "You know I don't typically turn down a compliment, but I don't rightly think I should be gettin' eyed up by a married woman, Mrs. Courtier." Oh, he clearly noticed.

"yeah honey...that's not the kind of 'critters' i meant." it had been sarcasm about those white walker wannabes out in the woods but amara would let it drop, figuring it wasn't worth her time to explain. he seemed somehow so very interested in slaughtering fuzzy bunnies and skinning squirrels and who was amara to take away from what this guy clearly thought was a good time? a sigh erupted from her lips that bore every ounce of impatience she had by nature as she moved out of his way. watching him move towards the wall, gaze narrowing and taking a very gratuitous look to see if his backside was on par with the front and she was slightly amused to see that it was, in fact, just a little bit better. checking him out with an unabashed roll of her gaze, her attention returned to his task at hand when he spoke. a light laugh left her. "please, when's the last time you've even seen a bottle of REAL whiskey in this shithole?" her smirk dabbled in the amused category as she heaved a sigh and wandered back behind the bar, rummaging to see what she could conjure up in reality as payment. gods the barter system could be a real bitch and a half these days. "well, manhattan born and raised --- what do you think?" peeking up from her crouched position behind the bar as she raised a brow, giving him a pointed look before she hauled up a crate filled with whatever the fuck was in stock, leafing through it as she eavesdropped on his little radio conversation, just to pick up clues on what he might be interested in. "potato vodka....prison wine....pretty fucking sure this is just wound wash disguised as tequila...." uncorking it and taking a cautious sniff has nose scrunching and sliding it pointedly away from her on the bar, glaring daggers at the offending bottle of wannabe designer booze. attention returned to duck the moment he gave her his game plan and she shrugged with a nonchalance that hopefully told him everything he needed to know about how much she cared about the integrity of this place. "fuck it --- make that wall your bitch, handsome...i'm just looking to have that scratching stop before i lose my shit and morph into one of those woodland fucks."

#d.amara.01 #d.amara #d.threads

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

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Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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f1lthy-mvtt · 2 years ago

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♡STOP♡

This post may contain triggering content, it is advised to either read with caution or to ignore this post entirely. The theme of this post will include: cnc, corruption, age play, blackmail, bondage, manipulation.

Please stay safe and have a nice day!

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Corrupting a Teacher

A teacher x student concept

corrupting an innocent older man who happens to be your teacher by showing him glimpses of your exposed cunt whenever he glances over your way, smirking when he blushes and looks away. leaving cute notes on his desk as you leave the class, explaining to him in great amounts of detail the various kinks and turn ons you have, what they mean, and how you think of him doing such gross perverted things to you while you masturbate. you've gotten bolder in the past few months since you've had his class, going from wearing thongs under your skirts to nothing at all, sometimes even running your fingers over your sensitive spots for him to see just to watch him get lost in the sight and stutter in front of the class.

one day, he decides to confront you after class about the things you do, about how inappropriate it is for you to behave in such a manner, how filthy it is to write him the pretty little notes that you do each day. "but teacher~ how will anyone ever believe an innocent student like myself could ever write about such nasty things? who would ever believe that an innocent little school girl has been filling her older teachers head with.. such filthy, delicious thoughts? why.. they'd think you a creep! they'd make an outcast of you, have your head on the stakes! no... we don't want that now do we sir... no, the only way for you to keep those things from happening is to keep your mouth shut, just give in to the temptations sir! you know you want to."

he spends the entire day going about his duties, thinking about the things she'd said and the thoughts he'd had. "I'm such a bad man, how could a man ever think such horrible things about his student? why am thinking of her in such violent ways.. I just want to taste her, I crave her, I need her under me split open on my- no.. no I can't be thinking these things.." but he finds himself breaking at these same thoughts later that night, while he's all alone taking a shower to try and take off the edge, a bottle of jack in hand.

he keeps replaying the image of her helpless under his grip, her fragile body shaking under his as he forces her to take every last inch of him inside her until she's crying and begging for it to stop.. oh but he wouldn't stop, he would pound her so ruthlessly until her mind broke and her body went limp, until she could only think of how he split her open on his cock and how good it felt to be broken in. yes... he was going to ruin her, he was going to break her in and make her his good pet, he was going to chain her up in his basement and carve his name into her soft skin. he was going to show her just what monster she had created and he wasn't going to let her escape once he had his hands on her.

it was decided then with a manic grin and his mind completely broken from the perverse thoughts of the things he was going to do to her, he got dressed in his finest suit, combed back his hair and grabbed an old Halloween mask he still had, then got in his car. he would go to the local hardware store and pick up some... questionable things... but they'd make it so much more fun to break in the pathetic whore. what a pathetic fucking whore, how dare she tease him.. blackmail him... how dare she tempt him in such ways as she had..

almost absent mindedly he had walked into the store, went down specific aisles and grabbed rope, lots of rope... a dog collar, a bandana, and a knife. the cashier rang up everything with a judgemental look on his face, but what would he know. he wasn't the one who became corrupted. no one could understand, only she could, it was her fault. thinking about how filthy she was made him ache in such a way it made him angry, so very angry.. the sun was finishing setting over the horizon, almost 8pm when he had gotten back into his car and pulled away from the store.

he glanced over at a paper in the passenger seat, her address carefully written on it as if it were an incantation, he made sure to write down directions and he followed them carefully as if they were a sacred scripture. when he pulled up to her house, his heart was calm and his thoughts clear as he shoved the knife into his pocket, hiding the rope,collar and bandana in a pocket in his coat, and grabbing the mask. as he snuck closer to the house he could see the lights on, her mother and father were away on a vacation from what he understood. as he peeked through the window he saw her, she was so close, yet.. so far away.. she was finishing cleaning a plate, then she turned on music and turned the lights off. he took this as his chance to get in, he snuk in through the front door and locked it, then pulled on his mask.

as he creeped through the house he watched as the last light went out, her bedroom, and almost at a crawling pace he went to her door and waited, patiently, until he heard small snores coming from the room. that's when he snuck into her room, pulling the rope from his coat pocket and untangling it. very carefully he tied her legs first, binding her ankles to the back of her thighs, then rolled her over carefully and tied her arms behind her back with complex, beautiful knots. she's such a heavy sleeper, she only stirs slightly as he did it. after he roller her back onto her back he pulled out the knife and collar, placing only the collar by her bedside as he dropped his coat on the floor and climbed on top of her. it started with small kisses to her cheeks, then her neck and shoulders, he grew hard at the thought of how innocent and vulnerable she looked laying there, not a single worry in her head.

with a low growl he fisted her shirt in his hand and cut into it, tearing it off her body which made her wake slightly dazed and confused only to realize she couldn't move. just as she went to scream he quickly shoved the bandana into her mouth, laughing as she choked on it and tried to scream. with a harsh smack to her face he sneered down at her, holding the knife to her throat. "what's wrong princess.. I thought this was what you wanted? didn't you tell me in all those filthy notes how much you wished I would just take you? wasn't it you who told me how badly you wanted me to forcefully take your virginity, tie you up and use you like the worthless little fuck toy you are? isn't this what you wanted, slut?"

he cackled evilly as tears fell down her cheeks, grabbed her by her throat and choked her as he traced the blade down her chest and stomach, to her underwear. "you begged me for it so much, I'm just giving you what you asked for you stupid bitch." with another harsh smack he grabbed at her underwear and dug the knife into the fabric, ripping it off her and exposing her to him fully. her whimpers struck him like a drug, her skin hot to the touch, she was truly intoxicating and he couldn't wait any longer, he needed her now.

he hummed as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling them along with his boxers down, watched as the useless bitch squirmed around trying to get away in vein. he ran his hands over her body as he thrusted his cock against her exposed cunt, running his hands up to her throat as he dropped the knife and wrapped both hands around her throat, his grip tightening as he watched tears fill her eyes, her face reddening from struggling to breathe, then let go. he threw off his mask and looked down at her so she could see the evil in his eyes, smirking when fear and panic flooded her face. she knew now, she knew she created a monster and she knew she wasn't going to get away.

he leaned forward, his voice a low growl in her ear that sent shivers down even his own spine. "now.. you're going to take everything like a good little pathetic bitch, right? mmm, yes you are.. you're going to take it, and you're going to like it.. just remember when you think of going to anyone about this, that you asked me for it, you begged me to rape you, you needed me to ruin you and toss you aside." he grabbed the knife back up and held it to her throat, the blade cutting into her skin making her choke out a whimper, then he pushed his hips forward and hissed as he felt his tip push inside her. gods only knew how tight she felt, her hips rising to meet his as she cried out in pain, struggling against the restraints. he grabbed onto her hips roughly and slammed his full length into her, punching against her cervix and making her scream. her scream filled him with primal rage that he hadn't ever felt before, it drove him crazy, he wasn't going to be able to stop now.

he pinned her by her throat as he took the knife, carving his name into her beautiful skin just below her stomach, she screamed more and squirmed, and he landed several harsh smacks to her face. it made her go still long enough to finish carving his name before choking her with both hands again and repeatedly slamming into her. her eyes went blank as they rolled back, her hips jerking back with each harsh thrust. he pounded her relentlessly even as she came, even after he had filled her with his cum. he was so addicted to the way she felt, the whimpers and moans that came from her throat, the way her body shook helplessly under his, the way her hips would grind against his whenever she came, the way she clenched around his length each time she had an orgasm. it was pure heaven on earth, he carved degrading words into her each time she came too just to make sure she remembered who she belonged to: whore, filthy bitch, slut, his property, mutt, fuck toy. so many beautiful terms of endearment, beautiful crimson blood against her skin.

she was already brain dead, all she could do was choke out muffled barks and howls when she would cum, she was his perfect little broken toy.. his pet, his property. no one else could have her, and he knew she wouldn't be able to see anyone else the same after tonight. by the time he finished ruining her she was half passed out, completely dazed and out of it, tears staining her cheeks and his cum overflowing from her abused hole. with a satisfied grunt he pulled out of her and untied her, pulling the gag from her mouth and planting a messy kiss on her lips before pulling his pants back up.

he grabbed her up by her hair and forced her to sit up, attaching the collar to her neck and grinning down at her. "don't forget who broke you, no one else is allowed to have you now, I've marked you and now you're mine until the day you die. and if anyone even looks at you, they'll die. if you even think of going to anyone, if you even so much as look at another man I'll be back to destroy you just the same, and you won't be able to stop me."

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ficforce · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet Extended

Joker/52 x Female Reader NSFW / Mentions of past abuse No established timeline Established relationship

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

“Uh, JJ?” Y/N watched the man practically run out of the room not even a minute after they had both finished up. Had she said or done something? Y/N pulled the blanket up to her chest after sitting up and worried that he wasn’t going to come back… This wasn’t the first time he’d done something strange after they had had sex but it was the first time he’d left; she brought her knees up and couldn’t help the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. “I got water, alcohol, juice and I put the kettle on in case you want something hot, I also grabbed some snacks in case you were hungry - oh and I grabbed some body wipes too!” Joker had piled everything he had mentioned onto a tray and brought it to the side of the bed, placing everything down before then grinning at her like he had done something really innovative. The grin dropped quickly as he noticed her watery eyes and the slight quiver of her lip. The man sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug, holding her tight in his slight panic, “What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I push you?” Joker had had a shitty childhood that had followed into his young adult life, he remembered all the times he was forced to do something or it was forced on him, he remembered being left cold and in pain with no-one giving two shits; it terrified him that he might have inflicted the same kind of pain on her. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Y/N pushed against him just enough to be able to look at his worried face, “You didn’t do anything… I definitely wanted that but it’s just… you left, right after and…” she realised now he had run out to get her food and drink, things to take care of her if she needed it. He had asked her last time about aftercare and how he wasn’t sure how to best provide it for her. She had told him that a bottle of water might be appreciated and hadn’t expected him to take it so far as snacks. “I thought you’d just left me.” “No way,” he kissed her cheeks as he squished her face a little between his hands, “Now, you want water, juice, vodka or tea?” The man was completely oblivious as to his awkward after sex etiquette.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

‘They’re like stilts.” Joker chuckled as she poked at his leg, “I like being taller than everyone else.” He likes his legs; he liked that he could move ridiculously fast, that he was flexible and able to kick someone in the face without having to get too close. “You love it when I lean over you like a big creep.” “That’s because I love creeps, apparently.” Y/N grabbed the collar of his top and pulled him down for a kiss, “What do you love about me? Physically?” “Hmm,” Joker gave it a little thought, straightening back up and lighting another cigarette, “Physically… that’s a tricky one. What do I love about my queen of hearts?” He liked everything, it was hard to pick just one thing; he turned his grin on her all of a sudden and smacked her backside, “I like your ass.”

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Running his fingertips through the cum leaking out of his lover, Joker slowly pushed it back inside her entrance, gently fingering her and relishing in the wet, warm feeling of her freshly fucked hole. “T-thats gross…” Y/N blushed and looked away from his fascinated expression. “I think it’s pretty.” He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean, “We’re all mixed together, impossible to separate.” Only he could make something like this sound almost romantic.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Y/N watched as Joker played with his deck of cards, shuffling them more expertly than any dealer in the big casinos, he then began to hum as he set out a game of solitaire. Sometimes he snuck into her apartment just to be there with her; it wasn’t always a booty call. There was something she noticed when he opened a brand new pack of cards though, something she wasn’t sure he was entirely conscious of doing. The long haired man would always pull out and burn one of the cards to ash before replacing it with the joker card. Last time Y/N had mentioned it he had packed everything up and told her he had business to attend to before leaving.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

“What’s this thing?” Y/N looked over at him from where she was putting away her clothes, her cheeks became a little warm as she saw he was playing with a vibrating cock ring. “It goes at the base of your dick… makes you last longer and the vibration gives me a little something when you push all the way in.” Joker snorted at it and tossed it back in the draw. He was sat cross legged on her bed in nothing but a towel and hair turban to keep him from getting the pillows damp; of course he had to snoop around in her bedside table whilst she was busy. “Why would someone need to last longer, you’d get sore, right? And why the hell aren’t they paying attention to your clit personally?’ He made little circular motions with his thumbs, “That’s just lazy, Y/N.” She often wondered how someone so tall and sexy could be so inexperienced, sure, he was a little odd but women should have been throwing themselves at him. “I’ll show you later, okay.”

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Joker liked all kinds of positions, he especially liked when Y/N was on top. So when she suggested reverse cowgirl he was curious and eagerly agreed to trying it out. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any position where he couldn’t see her face; it made him uncomfortable and it didn’t feel as good as he knew it should. His hands fell onto her hips and applied a little pressure to slow her down to a stop, “T-turn back around.” He panted out and when she did as he asked, Joker felt better, he thrust up into her more eagerly than before and his purple eye watched her expressions as they headed toward orgasm. Afterwards, as they lay in a heap of sweaty limbs, Y/N kissed his jaw and asked him if it was the angle he hadn’t liked, he shook his head and told her that it just felt better if he knew she was enjoying it.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

“JJ, stop messing around with that and get over here.” She had told him he could pick one toy for them to try out from her collection but so far he was just playing with everything. He was taking particular joy in trying to secure a strap on to his head. “Look, Y/N, I’m an actual dickhead now!” He heard her groan at his joke but he definitely heard a giggle too, “Or ‘fuckface’… I heard you call someone that the other day.” Joker liked to make her laugh, he found it put him at ease before they had sex; somehow he was still nervous he was going to make her hate him or that he would somehow hurt her.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Her fingers felt soothing as they ran through his long hair, she had practically begged him to let her practice a french braid on him and he didn’t actually mind it. Y/N had always liked playing with his hair - even before they became a proper couple. “How do you get it so soft?” She asked as she brushed it out to start her braid again, “You never have any split ends either.” He really did take good care of it, it wasn’t something she ever expected from him but she couldn’t deny how much attention he paid to his hair - even his pubic hair was kept trimmed and oddly perfect. He glanced over her shoulder at her and gave a soft smile, “I wasn’t allowed long hair when I was younger, so I like to keep it nice.”

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Something had upset him, something had happened and Y/N hadn’t really known what to do when she found him huddled up in the corner of her bedroom. He was always good at sneaking in but this was the first time she had ever woken up and found him hiding in the dark rather than invading her bed. “JJ?” She called out her pet name for him as she got out of bed and padded over to him, kneeling between his outstretched legs before reaching out to touch his face. He flinched. “Joker, what’s wrong?” She tried again to touch him and this time he allowed her to rest her hands on his cheeks. Y/N checked him over, he didn’t seem to be hurt in anyway, he was just… not quite right. “Can I take off your hat?” He gave a nod and she removed the item quickly, her fingers ran over his hair to neaten it out a little and then she asked if she could take off his eyepatch. This time he shook his head no. “Okay, will you come to bed? We can cuddle…” It hadn’t been hard to figure out, once she had seen all the evidence, that Joker had had bad experiences with people - that someone had likely abused him in his past. One of her biggest clues had been the way he never got too rough with her, how he always had to be able to see her face. Joker cherished her when they were together, he always made sure she knew that he wanted her to feel good and loved. It was moments like this, when he was emotionally bare and vulnerable that she felt most intimate with him, that he let her in and trusted her not to hurt him. “I’ll be big spoon, okay, JJ?” Taking his hand she coaxed him toward the bed and wrapped herself around his tall frame; trying her best to make him feel safe.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

The first time Joker masturbated he had been a little scared that he was going to be struck by lightning. He may have been raised an assassin but they were still a religious order that frowned upon that kind of thing… unless you were some sort of twisted pervert. At first he had ignored the feeling, not wanting to touch himself because he didn’t want to feel sick afterwards; sex had always made him feel disgusting before. But as his vision blurred white and his muscles spasmed, his fist moving on its own along his length as he milked every last drop out of it, he felt weightless afterward. The tension melted out of his body and he wanted to take a nap. He didn’t feel bad, he didn’t feel disgusting - he felt good. He doesn’t masturbate half as much now that he had Y/N. His right arm didn’t ache as much either…

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

“Is this okay?” Y/N asked as she straddled the backs of his thighs and placed her hands on his back. She had set up a large mirror at the end of the bed for this and she hoped it would work for Joker. She had wanted to give him a massage for the longest time but he could never really relax because he disliked having people behind him, touching his bare skin. She figured that if he could see what she was doing in the mirror it might help him. Joker hugged the pillow under his chin and watched her reflection intently, she pulled out a bottle of oil and began warming it in her hands, “I’d like it more if you were naked too.” He saw her look back at his reflection and rolled her eyes, “Maybe in a little while then.” Feeling her slick hands stroke over his bare back made the man let out a low moan; he loved being touched. Stroked, pet, cuddled, caressed - it didn’t matter as long as it was a positive touch. His kink wasn’t being choked or hit or even just tied up. His kink was being treated sweetly by his lover.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

“Excuse me, ma’am.” The shop assistant sounded a little panicked from outside the changing room door. “Ma’am, you… you can’t have your boyfriend in there with you. I’m sorry but please stop having -‘relations’.” Y/N glared at Joker as he held in his laughter, she had told him to get out the second he had materialised in her changing room but he had said he wanted to play. “Anywhere isn’t an acceptable location for this kind of thing, Joker!”

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It didn’t take much to turn her boyfriend on, sometimes just looking in his general direction was enough motivation for him to pull her into long, lovely kisses and feel his hands sneaking under her clothes to caress her body. So as she finished paying for her new lingerie and took the bag from the cashier, she had to wonder how he was going to react to her intentionally teasing him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Going through her sex toys seemed to be one of his favourite hobbies, mostly because it would make her stutter and feel flushed. This time Joker held up a pretty chain with a clamp either end, “Those are nipple clamps, JJ.” “They look like they hurt…” He tossed them aside in distain then found a pair of handcuffs next, “Why… would you intentionally want to be hurt?” Joker put those back too, his expression unhappy. Y/N came to sit down beside him, “Sometimes a little pain feels good-“ “Sex and pain shouldn’t go together. I’m never going to use any of this shit on you.” She gave a little shrug, embarrassed that he didn’t approve of her little kinks but understanding all the same, “And that’s okay… I’ll never mix the two together when I’m with you. I promise I’d never try to hurt you.”

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

His hands gripped her shoulders a little too hard and Joker quickly moved them to the edge of the kitchen counter behind him so he wouldn’t bruise her. Her mouth was so warm and the way she was sucking him felt so good that his legs were starting to shake. As much as he loved having his mouth on her and his tongue inside - this was always his favourite treat. It took all his willpower not to thrust into Y/N’s mouth; one look down and he felt his balls tighten at the way her lips stretched around him and how damn pretty she looked like this. “I-I’m gonna… Fuck, Y/N, I’m - !!” P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

The headboard of her bed thumped rhythmically against the wall as Joker plowed into her, his hands holding her thighs up and open so that he could go deeper. “J-Jo-ker! Ah, I… P-please!” He felt her walls tightening around him, heard how wet she was and knew she wouldn’t last much longer. The man slowed his pace, still filling her to the very hilt but almost dragging out how quickly he pulled out to the tip and then dived in deep again. Unable to process the mixture of slow and fast, hard and gentle, Y/N’s body began to shake and tremble, her eyes squeezing shut as his name filled the room loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

The endearing problem with her odd boyfriend, other than not knowing where he came from or even where he would come from next, was that he was able to go - sexually - at a moments notice. He loved a quickie, he loved it slow, sideways and once he had loved it upside down. Y/N had taken to carrying extra underwear with her just in case.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Y/N loved Joker, she adored him and she knew he cared about her deeply too… she just wished he would try new things with her that were not so safe. She liked a little breathplay every now and then but Joker wouldn’t risk choking her. He was a strong man and he knew he could get carried away. Then again, she thought as she looked at how high they were on the roof of a skyscraper, he liked to have sex in some pretty scary places.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

“I… actually can’t…” Y/N rolled onto her side panting heavily, everything ached a good way, the sheets were wet under her and every time Joked touched her she felt her body spasm. She was over sensitive and even though she knew he could make her orgasm again - she ws certain she would probably die. “I need a break.” “Okay, then we can go for round six?”

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Joker loved toys. His favourite thing was to go through hers and then try them out if they interested him enough. There were many times he would bring new ones home for Y/N and then look at her with an excited purple eye. Y/N looked at the new toy he had brought home and blinked, “Is that a fucking tentacle dildo?!”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes Joker wasn’t aware that he was actually teasing her, he just liked to touch her. Y/N bit her bottom lip as his thumb brushed over her clothed nipple again, it was hard and aching from his absent minded touch - she had no doubt he was only messing with her nipple because it was erect. It was the same for his other touch on her body. His other hand was on her inner thigh, his fingers tracing up and down the seam of her bottoms. “You’re driving me crazy!” “I haven’t even done anything?” Joker let out a surprised yelp as Y/N pinned him down to the sofa and climbed on top of him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

“I’m calling the police!” Y/N hid her face in Joker’s neck as they listened to her neighbour yell through the wall - they were kind of loud on a regular basis. “I could go and have a word with him?” “Don’t you dare, Joker! We’re already in trouble because you did the…. Thing!” He grinned and blew a few heart shaped smoke rings for her, “You love it when I do the Thing.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The bouquet of flowers she found on her table when she got home were a wonderful surprise. She noticed they were mostly purple with her favourite colour splashed in here and there; she didn’t need a note to know Joker had left them for her. Putting her bag down and kicking off her shoes Y/N picked up the flowers and smelled them, appreciating the gesture more than the aroma. Looking around the small apartment for him she realised that she must have just missed him… or he was hiding. Joker was surprisingly shy when it came to romantic gestures. X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) The first time she saw him naked, Y/N had been a little intimidated because, like most things about him, his cock was long. There was no way all of him would fit inside her without tickling her tonsils. Trying to calm her nerves she had turned her gaze onto his body, ran her hands over his lean muscles and pressed kisses to the scars she found. “One day, you’ll share your story with me, JJ.”

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

“Are you done?” Joker asked as he hovered over Licht, the young man was testing some new formula and he had said he needed Joker’s help. Watching the vial turn a different colour the scientist smirked to himself, “Have you got a date?” “I’m just horny. I miss Y/N and you’re being so boring!” He knew he had a problem, he knew he probably had too much sex but who could blame him when he had such a wonderful woman waiting for him?

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His head rested on Y/N’s shoulder as they lay in bed; he couldn’t sleep and she was trying to help soothe him to sleep. She massaged his scalp between running her fingers through his hair and she had even tried making him a hot drink. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep, even after the euphoric release of a good orgasm to melt his troubles away. Feeling her hand brush over one of his scars Joker let out a sign, “Remember when you said one day I’d share my story?” Her hands paused for a second, the weight of his words causing her breath to stutter, “…Yes.” “Would you still love me, even if I wasn’t a good man?” “No matter what you were in the past,” She kissed the side of his head, “You’re my Joker and I’ll love you for who you are now.”

#joker/52 #reader #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #alphabet

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stillwinchester · 3 years ago

Text

destiel, baby!jack, cas didn't die in 12x23 and took him to the lake house, dean found them

I miss you

Read on AO3

“Dean?” It's not like Cas didn't expect to see Dean again, of course, he did, but not like this, not here and not so fast after their paths split apart.

He hasn't seen him for two, the longest in his life, months. He made his choices when he decided to raise Kelly Kline's baby. For the first time he stopped being selfish, he didn't stay with Dean, he chose Jack. And now, Dean Winchester stood in front of him on the porch of his lake house.

“Hi, Cas!” Dean grinned like nothing bad ever happened between them. It looks so similar to the smile he gave him when he worked at Gas 'n Sip as Steve. A smile full of sadness and guilt.

Cas hidden his Angel Blade, believing that it was no longer necessary. He still maintained the eye contact with Dean, and he didn't move even one inch.

“Can I come in?” Dean spoke again, this time he's serious like he wasn't sure if Cas will let him in. Dean Winchester was scared of rejection. Cas hesitated for a second, but eventually, he nodded and made one step back. Dean walked in, and followed Cas to the living room. They seated together on the couch, they could feel the tension in the air.

“How did you find us?”

“It's not like you made it easy, buddy.” Dean was looking around, judging the house. “It's nice place. For a kid.”

Cas ignored this note. He didn't feel like having small-talk. Dean was here because of some reason, and Cas needed to know what was that. “Dean, why are you here?”

Dean looked at him and licked his lips nervously. For a moment, he was just staring at him with open mouth, but any word escaped them, like he was too afraid to say why he's here.

“I'm checking on you, is it something bad?”

No, it wasn't. But Cas knew it wasn't all the truth, not really. He would've been delighted if Dean was worried about him, but he didn't expect that. It's not like he was so important that anybody could care about him. And there was also Jack, they hated him only because he was Lucifer's son, but for Cas, he was his kid, and he would do everything to protect him. Anyway, Dean didn't drive six hours from Lebanon just to "check on him". Maybe something bad happened? Maybe Sam is hurt? And Cas can heal him?

“Where's Sam?” asked Cas, looking at the door like he just expected the other Winchester there.

“He's... not here. He's in the bunker. I came alone. Is it... Would you prefer Sam instead of me? To checking on you,” he finished awkwardly. Dean looked very tense, he clenched his fist, and scratched his neck with the other hand.

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean, I don't need a babysitter, Dean. I'm fine, thank you for your concern.”

“Yeah, sure. It's my job, right?”

Cas frowned. His job? What was he talking about? Cas wasn't anybody's job. He was the one who needed to carry too much all the time. He didn't have time to ask about that because in the other room a baby started crying. Dean turned his head to the noise source, but didn't comment on it.

“Excuse me,” said Cas and stood up. He went to the baby, not knowing that Dean followed him immediately.

“Hi, Jack. I'm here. Dad's here,” he whispered calmly, taking Jack from the cradle. He kissed his forehead, and the kid stopped crying at once. “You're hungry, right? We'll make you a bottle, come on.”

Cas turned around to leave the room when he met Dean's eyes. Still with a kid on his arms, he stood and stared at Dean.

“You're doing great job with the kid.” It sounded honest, and Cas almost believed that. Dean was smiling, looking at the kid, and there was no disgusted. Cas was prepared that Dean saw in Jack only son of Satan, but to his surprise, he saw just the baby.

“Thank you, Dean. ” He took a few steps forward. “I need to feed him, now. Can we talk later? Give me, let me say, fifteen minutes?”

“Of course, Cas.”

They went to the small kitchen. Cas took baby formula, still holding Jack.

“May I help you?” offered Dean, but Cas shook his head, pouring water to the pot.

“I can handle with that.”

“It's danger to hold a baby near the stove. You can burn him... Just give him to me, I can take care of him for five minutes,” insisted Dean. Cas turned to him, and bit his lip as he wasn't sure if it was good idea.

“I-” he began, but nothing more came from his mouth.

“I won't hurt him, Cas.”

“I know.”

Cas gave him Jack, who shifted a little, but didn't protest that some strange person was holding him now. He seemed to be interested of him, his little fist tried to reach Dean's chin.

“Hi, buddy.”

Dean met Cas' eyes, the angel was staring at him with a shy smile, but after Dean caught him doing it, he immediately came back to prepare a bottle. Ten minutes later it was ready, and when he wanted to take Jack back, Dean spoke again.

“Come back with me, Cas.”

“What?” Cas blinked twice.

“Come back home. The bunker is a safer place,” Dean repeated. So, it was the real reason. Dean wanted… needed Cas back.

“I can't.” Cas took Jack and started feeding him, not looking at Dean.

“Of course, you can. But maybe you just doesn't want to,” he said reproachfully.

“I want to. You have no idea, how much I want to. But I can't risk that...” he stopped. He almost said it, but he knew it would hurt Dean. Even if it was the truth.

“Risk what?” asked Dean, not understanding anything. From his perspective it wasn't any risk, Cas and Jack will be safe in the bunker, that's all, simple fact.

“Never mind.”

“Risk what, Cas?” he repeated, a little to loud. Jack shifted in Cas arms.

“Shh, Jack, it's okay.” Cas tried to calm the baby, after Jack was eating again, he looked at Dean. “I can't risk that one day you'll kick us out!”

On Dean's face appeared a real terror. He opened his mouth to say something, but he changed his mind at the last moment. Instead, he turned back and left the house. Cas didn't stop him, not this time.

Dean left, and maybe it was better. Maybe Cas would miss him less, when they were fighting, when he didn't stay longer. Because every minute he was here, Cas knew he was gonna miss him even more. And he knew he couldn't go with him.

Cas changed Jack's diaper, read him a story which a baby couldn't understand, and put him in the cradle where he could sleep. An hour later, he looked out the window and saw that Impala was still there. It was almost evening, and it was a long day for all of them. Cas went outside and knocked in the car's window. Dean opened a door, but didn't say anything.

“Dean, come inside, there's a bed. And you can catch a cold if you'll sleep here.”

Dean looked at him, tired and devastated.

“You really want me there? Are you sure?” he asked, and Cas nodded.

“Yes, I'm sure. Come on!”

Dean got out of his car and followed Cas.

“Actually, why do you have a bed, you don't sleep.”

“It has been there already. So, I keep this, just in case.”

Because I hoped you find me one day…

“Cas, about earlier. You need to know, I'd never do this again. And I mean it. I want you in the bunker. I would know that you're safe,” he explained, and Cas' heart skipped a bit. He cares, he thought. “And, you know, we could control the kid, we don't need another Apocalypse.” Of course, it wasn't because he was worried, but because he didn't trust Jack.

Cas said nothing, he made his decision long time ago, even before Jack was born.

“I'm sorry, Cas.” Dean started again. “I'm sorry that I didn't trust you. And I'm sorry that I left you with all of this.”

“I was the one who left. It was my decision,” said Cas to end this subject. Dean nodded, agreeing with him, but repeated his apologies one more time anyway.

“Still, I'm sorry.”

Cas left Dean a card that he and Jack went for a walk. It wasn't necessary because when they came back, Dean was still sleeping. Cas was staring at him like a hundred times before, he looked so calmly, lying on his stomach. Cas knew he was sleeping this way only if he felt safe.

Dean woke up half an hour later, and he met with Cas in the kitchen.

“Mornin'.”

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted him. “I went with Jack to the farmer markets, and bought a few things you could eat for the breakfast.”

“Umm, thanks, Cas. You didn't have to.”

“You're my guest, Dean… And my best friend, of course, I have to.”

“All right… Any chance you have also a coffee?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, Dean. Of course, I have a coffee.”

It has been four days since Dean appeared on the porch of the lake house. It was a wonderful time, but Cas started feeling anxious. How long was Dean going to stay? When will he leave him again? When will he crash his heart into a million pieces? He didn't want to get through this one more time, he needed to know what Dean was planning.

“Dean, how long will you stay?” he asked in the evening, when they were sipping a beer together. Jack was sleeping, and Dean had brought some wood earlier to make a fire in the stove. It was nice, warm and familial, just like home…

“I-I thought I'll stay until I convince you to come back with me... But we know it's not gonna happen, so I can go whenever you want.”

“I understand.” Cas nodded and took a sip of his drink. Dean did the same, and after that, he put the bottle on the coffee table.

“I'll leave in the morning,” he decided, not looking at Cas.

“It will be for the best.”

“Good.” Dean didn't sound like anything was good. He took a bottle again to keep his hands busy.

“Yeah, good,” said Cas with the same enthusiasm as Dean. Screw this, nothing is good, actually.

Dean was washing dishes, and Cas came to help him. They were doing it in silence, feeling a tension in the air. Tomorrow everything will get back to normal. But Cas didn't want any normal. Not anymore.

“I'm sorry, Dean.” he started, putting the last plate on the dryer.

“You don't have to be sorry.”

“But I am.”

“Okay.”

Dean looked at him and put his hand on Cas' cheek gently, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb.

“Dean…” Whatever he wanted to say, it didn't matter anymore. He forgot it anyway in the second Dean's lips met his. Cas didn't know if it was a good or a bad kiss, but for him, it was the perfect one. The perfect because Dean was kissing him.

“I missed you...” murmured Dean when they pull away. His hand found Cas waist, and he didn't want to let him go.

“I missed you too.” Cas wasn't sure if Dean could imagine how much he missed him. How much every minute without him made his heart ache.

“Come back with me, please. I promise I won't hurt you again. And I promise I'll do my best to help you with Jack.”

“Dean...” Just his name, but the tone was enough for Dean to understand.

“I know. I know, but I had to try once again.” Dean kissed Cas forehead. “I understand.”

Cas shook his head.

“No, you don't. Dean, I want this, whatever it is, I want this, and I want to come back with you. But I can't think only about myself, not this time, not with Jack... I don't reject you, Dean. I would never reject you, I dreamt about it for years, and I want you to be my family, but Jack... He's my son. He's my responsibility. I promised to protect him, and I'm going to keep my promises. But I don't reject you, you must know that.”

“Yeah... So, why it sounds like that?”

“Dean...”

“It's okay, Cas, I get this. It was selfish, and you're right. Jack should stay here, grow up, be happy. He has a chance for this here. You're amazing father, I believe you can handle this. You were doing a great job for now.”

“Thank you, Dean. And I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too. But maybe it's gonna be the best for us. Starting new lives apart.”

Dean stopped touching him. That was it, the end of the moment of true happiness. Now only cold left.

“Dean, don't say like that, please,” he started. “I... I lo-”

This time, Dean was the one who shook his head like he didn't want to listen to him.

“Don't say it. Don't even dare to say it.”

Cas nodded, maybe it wasn't the best time to confess. Maybe he needed to be patient, he needed to wait.

“You know why did I ask you to leave?” asked Cas. “Because I knew it's gonna be harder if you stay. Every day made that I would miss you more.”

“Yeah… Me too, Cas.”

Dean went to sleep, so Cas had all night to think. Think about them. About Jack. And about the future. And the future, which he saw when Jack showed it to him a few months ago, told him what he should to do. Cas made his decision.

“I made you a breakfast and coffee, you find it in the kitchen,” Cas said fast after Dean came downstairs, still in his hot dog pajama's pants. “And later, you could help me pack all this stuff to Impala.”

He pointed at two suitcases, and a lot of baby's stuff like cradle or diapers.

Dean looked at Cas and later at the baggage. He couldn't help the big grin, it was the best news he could receive.

“Of course,” he said, but he didn't go to the kitchen, still staring at Cas, and a few seconds later, he shorted the distance between them and gives him a deep kiss.

“What was for that?” asked Cas when they pulled away.

“Just because.”

“Can you do this again?” he asked, and he didn't need to tell this twice. The next kiss was even more passionate. Dean's lips found his immediately. They were kissing for a long time, and after they pulled away, they were still close to each other.

“Cas?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I...” he started, not sure how to say this. “Me too, Cas. Me too.”

One hour later, they are in the car. Three of them, driving to their home.

And yes, maybe it was going to be hard. He needed to learn how to be a good father, he knew he won't be like Cas, but maybe he could just try to be the best version of himself? Maybe he could love the kid like his own? And maybe, for the first time in their lives, everything will be fine?

He doesn't know that. But there's one thing which he's certainly sure. They were family, and only it mattered.

#destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #destiel fic #fic #fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #cas #writing #fanfiction #baby!jack #mine

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rai-wick · 4 years ago

Text

Gally x Reader Chapter 2: First Day

Y/N's P.O.V

I groggily got up and stretched.My body was aching from tossing and turning the whole night not to mention all the images of needles, familiar voices and white rooms flashing through my mind.There was a knock on my door and Minho came in.

"Get up Greenie, we have to get you assigned today"He cheerily said."Get dressed, have breakfast and once you're ready, go to Alby's cabin. See you there" He nodded and left.

I got out of bed and freshened up. I brushed my hair back, I prefered my hair down, it made me feel safe. I kept a hair tie on my wrist just in case. I pulled on a shirt and trousers before heading out to the eating area, I saw some boys having breakfast and laughing before spotting me and looking away. I didn't feel like eating much, so I just got a sandwich and ate it on my way to Alby's cabin which I now thanked that he had shown me earlier.I finished my sandwich and knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Gally's P.O.V

The door opened and ____ came in. She had dark circles under her eyes, none of us said anything as we all knew how hard the first night in the Glade could be. "Alright ____, here's what we're going to do.We'll run through the rules then we'll tell you about the jobs and you tell us which one you would like to try out. Deal?"Alby said to her.She nodded in response, her face blank."There are 3 main rules.1.Everyone does their part. No slackers.2.Never hurt another Glader. You have to trust each other.3.Never go outside the Glade, unless you're a Runner.Got it?"She nodded and Alby moved on.

"Now you've met Minho, He's the Top Runner. It's his job to run through the maze and try to find a way out. This is Frypan."Frypan nodded from where he was standing."He's in charge of the kitchen and food.Clint and Jeff here are the med-jacks, they look after injuries and sicknesses."Clint gave her a small smile which she didn't return."Newt here is in charge of the gardens as well as my second in command"Newt lifted his hand slightly from where he was standing."And finally, we have Gally, Keeper of The Builders. Although he will insist for you to call him Captain Gally." I rolled my eyes as they all grinned.She still had a blank look on her face. Shuck, does this girl have any emotions?"So what do you think? What do you want to try out first?"

She pondered for a moment before replying "Building"We were all a little suprised at her answer but it was her answer."What?"She raised an eyebrow at us.

"Well we thought you'd want to be a runner"Minho sheepishly said"You were very quick on your feet"

"Building is what I want to do"

"Okay so I guess Gally you're in charge of her. Everyone is dismissed"Alby waved his hand as we left his cabin. ____ stood to the side waiting for me.

"Good Luck" Minho whispered to me"She's like the girl version of you but hotter"

"Slim it"I glared before walking over."Ready?"She nodded in response and we went to the builders section. "You're lucky, today all we have to do is some repairing and mostly just chopping 'cuz it's bonfire night"

"What's bonfire night?"

"It's a tradition we do on the Greenie's first night in the Maze.Although in your case, Alby wanted to wait until you had settled in a little bit.We make a bonfire, get drunk and have a fight off led by yours truly."She looked at me before rolling her eyes.We arrived at the section.I pointed out the different parts to her as she nodded in response."So you can pick a part and I'll help you through it"

She gazed intently around before looking at me and saying "Chopping"

"Are you sure? The axes can be very heavy and a little dangerous"

She crossed her arms and looked at me, with her penetrating ___ stare. "Yes"

"Fine with me"I shrugged and led her to the chopping block. I handed her an axe and showed her how to swing it.She copied me and I have to say she had perfect form. "Very good" I nodded to her and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. I handed her a block of wood and showed her how to perfectly chop it. She brought the axe above her head and brought it down hard, splitting the wood in half. Her hair swung around her face and I inwardly chuckled. "You might want to tie up your hair" She tied her hair into a ponytail and I found myself staring at the ground. She looked beautiful with her hair down but when she tied it up, it really brought out her features. I handed her a pile of wood and went to my section.

Y/N's P.O.V

I swung down hard and slice the wood. I put down my axe and wiped the sweat off my face. "Getting tired Greenie?"I looked to see Gally leaning on his axe smirking at me.

"It's ____" I told him coldly.

"Sure thing Greenie" His smirk grew bigger and I turned my back on him.I finished chopping and stuck my axe into the ground.

"Done" I told Gally with a bored expression. He looked at the pile and back at me.

"Not bad for your first day Greenie. I didn't think you had it in you"

I crossed my arms and looked at him with an eyebrow raised"Because I'm a girl?"

"Well ya"

"Guess you were wrong Captain Gally" He glared at me and I turned on my heel as the lunch bell rang.I picked up a plate and put some food on it before grabbing an apple. I went to the table I had sat on yesterday. I sat down and began eating.

"Excuse me but can do you mind if we join you?" I looked up to see Newt, Minho, Chuck and Gally staring at me. I looked at the big empty table and nodded. Gally, Newt and Minho sat across from me and Chuck sat next to me. I turned to myself back to the food.

"So Gre-" I looked at Minho daring him to call me Greenie"____. How was your first day in the glade?"

"Fine"

"I hope Captain Gally isn't giving you a hard time."he grinned and I shrugged in response as Minho sighed and went back to his food."Your turn"I heard him mutter to Newt.

"Your turn?"I asked him and they all looked away blushing.

"Err, Alby told us that we should try and make you laugh so you feel more at home here."I rolled my eyes and picked up my apple.

"No thanks"I took a bite of it."I'm not really a laughing type of person"

"So you're telling me, nothing makes you laugh?"Minho raised his eyebrow at me while I shrugged again.

"There's got to be something"I shook my head and picked up my plate.I walked away and threw my rubbish in the bin before walking back to my station.

~A FEW HOURS LATER~

I put down my axe and threw the last of the wood in the pile. I smelled something nasty before realising that it was me. I put my axe with all the other axes and headed to my cabin.

"Hey Greenie!" Irritated, I turned around to see Gally smirk at me."See ya at the bonfire eh?"

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't"

"You can't miss it, it's like missing your own funeral"

"That's a bloody terrible comparison" I raised an eyebrow at him

"I'll take that as a yes"He turned around and walked away. I rolled my eyes and went to my cabin for a shower. When I got in, I stripped myself of clothes and went into the shower.The warm water soothed all my pains as it washed over my body. I showered quickly and turned the water off. I went into my room and pulled out a fresh pair of clothes. I dried my hair and brushed it.There was a knock on my door and I opened it to see Chuck standing there. He nervously smiled.

"Yes?"

"Umm, Newt wanted me to tell you that they're starting. You are coming?"He gently smiled"It is good fun"

"Fine, but just for a little while" I told him.

"See you there" He started to walk away but I grabbed hold of his shoulder.He looked at me, terrified.

"We can go together"

"Oh okay" He let out a sigh of relief as I put on my shoes. I closed the door behind me and we walked to the bonfire where everyone was gathered.

"Look, Greenie made it" Gally pointed out as I sat down.Everyone cheered as I rolled my eyes.They began talking and drinking as the fire in the center roared.Chuck seated himself on my right as Newt and Minho walked over with a bottle in their hands.

"Hey ____, glad you came"Newt sat next to me and Minho beside him.

"Mhm"

"Here drink this"Minho held out the bottle and I looked at him.

"You want me to drink a bottle with suspicious contents?"He nodded enthusiastically"Yeah, not happening"

"It's a special drink we make on bonfire night"

"So?"

"Just have a sip"

I peered into the bottle"Did you guys pee in it or something?" They all looked at me before bursting into laughter.

"What?! No, it's just water and some ingredients. Gally makes it"Newt told me.

"Could have guessed"I looked over at him and our eyes briefly met.I had to admit, he was cute, in a bashful kind of way. I looked back to Newt and Minho who were looking at me expectantly.

"It's not too bad" Chuck assured me.

"Here goes " I took off the lid and took a gulp. It burned and I coughed, handing the bottle back to Minho.

"That's bloody awful" I said as they laughed loudly.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" We looked over to see the guys forming a circle.

"What are they doing?"

"They're playing this game Gally came up with. You make a circle, 2 gladers stand inside and they try to push each other out"Chuck explained

"Sounds stupid"

"Eh" Newt replied "Bit of entertainment" They all stood up."You coming to watch ____?"

"Might as well" I stood up and followed them to the circle. It was Gally against some guy, I think his name was Zart. Gally was beating him quite easily, constantly throwing him out of the circle. Finally Zart admitted defeat. Everyone laughed as Gally smirked.

"Who's next?"He peered around the circle and spotted me"What about you Greenie?"I was about to say no when everyone started chanting "Greenie! Greenie! Greenie!" And I found myself pushed into the circle.I turned around to glare at the culprit and found Minho whistling and not meeting my eyes. I turned back to Gally as he explained the rules.

"The aim is to push the other person out of the circle"

"Still stupid"I muttered and he glowered at me. We circled each other and he jumped at me, trying to scare me. I didn't flinch instead giving him a skeptical look. He shoved me hard and I stumbled but caught myself in time.He ran towards me and I swiftly dodged him causing him to almost fall out. I turned and smirked at him. I placed one foot in front of me and and reached out my hand. I beckoned him forward.

"Come on, Captain Gally" I mocked as everyone looked at each other with wide eyes. He spat on the ground and charged towards me. I grabbed his arm and judo flipped him to the ground. He grunted and got up as I moved the hair out of my face. He looked at me and tackled me to the ground. I groaned as he got up with a smirk. No way was I going to be beaten by some arrogant bastard. I swept my leg around his ankle, knocking him down. He stood up quickly and threw a punch at me but I quickly bent my knees back and dodged.I stood up and put my foot on his chest and gave him a hard kick, shoving him out of the circle. There was a silence as we both panted before an explosion of cheers."____! ____! ____!" I smirked triumphantly at Gally who smirked back.

"You're not half bad"

"Funny, I was about to say the same to you" He shook his head at me as Chuck came running up to me, excited.

"That was awesome!"

"Thank you Chuck"

"You were amazing ____!"Newt laughed.

"Yeah, now if we can just get a smile out of you"Minho grinned.

"Good luck with that"I rolled my eyes and started to walk away.

"Hey! Where ya going? We just got started"

"No thanks" I waved goodbye as they groaned"Have fun!"

I smiled to myself as I opened the door to my cabin. Exhausted by today's events, I collapsed in the hammock, not bothering to change.

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

#gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #maze runner gally #gally imagines #newt #newt imagine #the maze runner #thomas maze runner #maze runner minho

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rubysworld-world-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

In Another Life

Summary: You were saved from the gray world by the Winchester's and find yourself with all the others at their bunker. So many questions about the new world you're in are running through your head. But there is one secret about Dean you are too curious to know.

Word Count: 3186

A/N: I know I've been MIA for a while now. Mostly because I stopped writing fanfiction and writing original short stories instead. But for some reason I have writer's block and thought why not go back to my roots in order to beat it. So here you go. Hope you like it :) (FYI: (Y/N/N) stands for Your Nickname)

Your POV

You opened your door. Your head poked out as you looked around to see if anyone else was still up and about. When you saw that the hallway was empty, you walked out and closed the door quietly behind yourself as to not disturb the others.

After having stepped through the tear in the universe and into a parallel world everyone was exhausted. Having barely escaped certain death and power ceasing archangels it wasn't surprising that they all went straight to bed in their assigned rooms after settling into the new surroundings.

However, you weren't able to find any rest. Adrenaline was still pumping through your veins even hours after all the excitement, while unanswered questions made your head spin. To say that the past few days had been confusing was an understatement. Nevertheless, the day itself had topped even the craziest shit that had happened during your life so far.

You wandered the hallways aimlessly. Your eyes skipped over the walls, the doors, the books and everything else you passed on your way. Taking in your surroundings, acquainting yourself with the bunker you eventually ended up in the kitchen.

You stopped short in the doorway. To your surprise the kitchen wasn't unoccupied as you had assumed after walking through empty halls, silence your only companion. Apparently one of the brothers that had helped save your friends hadn't been visited by sleep either.

His back was facing you as he sat at the metal table to the right side of the wall. He seemed to be deep in thought judging by his posture. For a moment you considered turning around and heading back to the room you came from without having him notice you. However, the thought quickly escaped your mind.

A lot of questions were swimming around in your head, to which you wouldn't find the answer to on your own, had to do with the man sitting alone at the kitchen table. If he couldn't sleep either, you could as well pick his brain and try to find some sort of rest for yourself. Who knew, maybe some company would help him too.

You cleared her throat. The man flinched before turning around to see what or rather who had disturbed the crippling silence. When his eyes landed on you, he relaxed a little. There was a strange look in his eyes that shifted through countless emotions. You thought you recognized one of them for happiness, but couldn't be sure. Your heart ached a little for the stranger as they quickly dulled over and sadness settled inside them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Your voice was barely above a whisper as the quiet had not disappeared completely just yet. You put on a friendly smile in order to try and make the man feel more at ease.

"'s okay. I'm just not used to having people around."

The look on his face never changed while his voice sounded as if it was booming in the silence. He turned back to stare at the beer he was holding between his hands.

You watched him for a bit. Then you braced herself walking around the table to face the hunter.

"I couldn't sleep," you explained yourself even though you knew there was no need to. "May I?"

Without taking his eyes away from his drink he nodded once. You slid onto the seat opposite him.

"It's Dean, right?"

At you question, his eyes flicked up to yours for only a split second. Then they settled back on the beer. What you saw in them made you shiver. It was as if all hope had been sucked out of them. Just like that, there was another question you didn't know the answer to, but you couldn’t pry after he and his brother had opened their home to all these strangers.

"Yeah."

Dean's reply was short, his voice rough. He raised the bottle of beer and took a sip. His eyes were turned toward the ceiling. You knew instinctively he was avoiding to look at you. You tried to ignore the dull pain in your chest at his demeanor. Instead of commenting, you chose another road to go. You swallowed hard, sitting up a little straighter trying not to fidget as much. Your hands were resting on the table tightly clasped together.

"Thank you... for saving us."

The words were sincere. The thanks were long overdue. Moreover, it would have been impolite to start the questioning without as much as a nice word.

"Without you, all my friends would be fried by now. We probably wouldn't have lasted another day."

Dean had taken back to staring at the bottle in his hands. His jaw was set and his face tense as were all the other muscles in his body.

You kept looking at him, gauging his reaction. He was a stranger after all and you would like see a flying glass bottle coming instead of feeling it crash in your face. You would make that mistake only once. On the other hand, you had a feeling that the man opposite you wasn't going to hurt you. Still, you weren’t about to take any chances.

"No problem."

The reply surprised you. You had expected him to explain to you that they didn't do it for them, but to save the blond woman and Lucifer's kid, Jack. You stayed silent for a moment puzzling over it. After a little while you shook the confusion out of you head, assuming it had something to do with the fact that he didn't want to talk at all given his previous curt answers.

Realizing that you might not get any answers tonight - or from Dean in general - you let out a soft sigh. Despite your hope dissipating, you made one last attempt. If he already hated you, there was nothing to lose.

"Listen, if this isn't a good time or in case you don't want to talk to me, it's fine, I get it." You hated the hopelessness being evident in your voice. You cringed but kept going. "The reason I can't sleep is because there are too many questions roaring in my mind and I can't shut them up no matter what I try because I don't have any answers. I don’t know this world, I don’t know anything about it and that gives me a headache. I don’t know how to protect my people or myself for that matter, and that is something I don’t like. It makes me want to throw up."

After all the words that were stuck inside of you for the entire day, you felt exhausted. You let your head hang low kicking yourself for sounding so desperate and whiny. You hated that you couldn't figure it all out yourself and instead were dependent on others to give you the answers you so desperately needed. For your survival and the survival of the others.

Surprise, or rather shock, made your head fly up when you heard a deep chuckle coming from your late night company. You stared at Dean open-mouthed. There was a smile on his face for only just a second before it disappeared again. You would have felt offended that Dean seemed to laugh at you for the things you spilled out at night, but the laugh had sounded nothing like that. Instead, it was more of an understanding laugh; one that said 'of course you do, that's just you.'

What made her completely bewildered was when Dean spoke more than only one word.

"Let me guess, I bet you hate yourself that you have to asked someone else for help and can't figure out the situation by yourself."

It was a simple statement, there was no humor in it or satisfaction at guessing what was going on inside your head. There was just.... a certainty that those had to be your thoughts.

You were taken aback. Your eyebrows furrowed and you couldn't stop staring at the stranger that seemed to know you so well. He had been spot on with his guess and you knew that he knew it. Although you didn't understand the reason behind how he could know.

As you didn't say anything, too dumbfounded, Dean let out a sigh, took another swig of his beer and spoke once more without having to be prompted.

"Shoot."

He was looking at you. Really looking at you. His eyes were focused on yours showing you that you had all of his attention.

Seeing his eyes boring into you, you felt as if you had been transported to a forest. Not the dull grey one you had just escaped from but a bright one where the trees had radiant green leaves. You imagined hearing birds singing, squirrels rushing by making the leaves rustle and you could see the golden sun shining through the tree tops illuminating the scene, making everything seem lighter. For once, you didn't hate the forest; for once you felt safe.

You tore your eyes away. It was like pulling apart two strong magnets. Once you were free of Dean's mesmerizing eyes, you took in a sharp breath. Slowly your mind cleared up from the daze you had been under and soon enough all the questions you had came pouring back. One was particularly loud and clear screaming inside her head.

Before you could stop yourself, you heard yourself already blurting it out despite what a terrible idea it was.

"Earlier, when you were guiding everyone through the tear and I wanted to wait for some more people, what did you mean when you said 'I'm not losing you again?'"

Your eyes were back on him. This time you were careful not to get lost in them.

Dean let out a sigh. His head turned down leading his gaze to the table once more. The question had been inevitable, but it might not have been the right moment.

"(Y/N/N)."

You flinched at the nickname. You had never heard it before, but you immediately knew it was yours. It sounded right. Especially coming from the man on the other side of the table. When he said it, it was as if a warm blanket had been wrapped around you. Never had you felt anything like this before.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized as soon as he saw your reaction, reprimanding himself silently and reminding him that it was not you. You weren’t his (Y/N/N).

You watched Dean gulp. You couldn't stop staring at him. You waited patiently for him to answer your question. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as they were working on it. Anxiety grew in your body.

"Someone like you existed in this world,” Dean answered after what felt like an eternity. “I mean another version of you... I mean she had the same name, looked just like you. Basically, you are an exact copy of her. I mean, not that you aren't valid or less real- I mean-"

Dean broke off his rambling. He didn't dare to look at you. You guessed it would be better that way. His explanation had hit you off-guard. You had no idea what your face might be giving away from the emotions playing out inside of you: shock, confusion, pity and fear.

He reached up one hand letting it slide over his face, but although you were still staring at him, you barely noticed the movement. Your head was spinning and you had no idea how to react or what to do with this information. This was a total mess.

Once more one of your thoughts was louder than the others: He was in love with her. As soon as the thought hit you, another one followed: She isn’t with him. A shiver went down your spine and you felt the color leaving your face.

Dean’s POV

He felt like a complete idiot. He didn't dare look at the woman in front of him, knowing too well that a mixture of hurt, offense and confusion must be displayed on her face. He reprimanded himself for having answered the question at all. But looking into the eyes of the person he once…

He reached up one hand to let it slide over his face in an attempt to try and organize his thoughts. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain his (Y/N) to the one sitting at the table with him now. This was a total mess.

In addition, a little sparkle of hope had settled in his chest. Hope that somehow this version was his (Y/N) - in some sense. Hope, that he might get another chance. He didn’t know where it came from.

As soon as he felt it, hope was replaced by shame. Shame, that he could feel that way about someone else that clearly wasn't her, but just someone who looked like her; someone who wore her face. Guilt washed over him. Guilt on how he could dare to think about replacing her, his best friend, the love of his life. He couldn't taint the memory of her like that.

He raised his beer to his lips once again, hoping the alcohol would eventually shut up his destructive thoughts, numb his body, his pain, only to find it empty. Dean pressed his eyes close. He felt so lost. All he needed was for his (Y/N) to help him and tell him what to do and how to untangle this chaos. But that was never going to happen.

So he did the next best thing he could think of. Dean opened his eyes and looked at the person opposite him. He prayed that seeing her image would be enough to calm him. He wished that it would give him the strength and inspiration he so desperately needed right then.

That's when he realized the truth.

The (Y/N) from the other world had the same hair color, the same eye color, but it wasn't her. Behind those eyes sat a different person, one he didn't know. There was no second chance. Having her here was only a reminder that he had failed her.

A silent tear slipped out of his eye. He wiped it away quickly as not to make his emotions obvious. But it was to no avail. (Y/N) had seen and her face changed to pure pity. He knew she could see right through him, see the man that had been left behind, a shell. But he also knew in the left over pieces of his heart that she wasn’t the person who could fix it.

"I'm not her," she whispered.

He took in a shaky breath; the truth he had realized seconds before hitting him like a punch to the stomach as they were spoken out loud by the same voice that had coaxed him to sleep so many nights.

Your POV

Only as you watched Dean’s reaction did you realize that that was the problem. And those had been the wrong words.

"I'm sorry," you hurried to say as you averted your eyes leaving him some privacy with his emotions.

You weren't sure what you were apologizing for exactly. The fact that you weren’t her? The fact that obviously something had happened to this version of you? For the way Dean felt? It was probably a mix of everything.

The urge to take away his pain was strong. Another thing you didn't understand. Since the first second you had seen the green-eyed hunter, you had been drawn to him. In your world, you didn't trust anyone anymore. But that man on the other side of the table only had to look at you intently and without a doubt you had trusted him, you had faith in him.

You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards the hunter. Whenever their eyes would meet, your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat.

But you weren't going to acknowledge that feeling sitting in your chest. You would push it down hoping it would eventually go away. It wouldn't be good for either of you to act on these emotions.

His pain was too raw and you weren’t the right person to fill the hole inside of him, no matter how alike you and the (Y/N) from this universe had looked. In the end, you were two different people. You spoke again after a moment of silence, your voice soft.

"You don't have to explain. I think I understand. Or most of it anyway. I'm sorry I brought it up, it's none of my business."

You wanted to make up for bringing all these emotions back to Dean. You didn't want him to feel obligated to tell you anything about the person you had been in this universe. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were nosy and push him away completely. He didn't deserve this. He didn’t deserve being hurt by the only other person that looked like the woman he loved.

"I think I better get back to my room. I'm really tired."

You faked a yawn to sell it, although you weren't sure he bought it. As you glanced at him he nodded, but otherwise stayed silent and unmoving, eyes averted.

You got up and started to head out of the kitchen. As you reached the entrance way you turned back one more time to look at the man you had left behind.

Dean had hung his head low and cradled it in his hands. His body was occasionally shaking with a sob. Seeing this tough man like this made your heart ache even more and tears gathered in your eyes.

You turned on your heel and continued to your room, your bottom lip shaking as tears slowly ran down your cheeks. As much as you wanted to be, you weren't the right person to comfort him. It wasn't you his heart was yearning for. There was nothing you could do to numb his pain. Not yet anyways. Maybe not ever.

As you closed the door to your room behind you and slid down it, you decided to stay away from him in hopes to not cause him anymore pain. You had done enough. You would talk to Sam tomorrow about this universe and head out right after to make it on your own. Just like you always did.

The fact that Dean was so upset to talk about his (Y/N) and her not being around in the bunker spoke volumes. Whatever had happened, it had left a barely scraped over wound and your presence would rip it wide open day after day, again and again. There was no place for you here.

The thought shouldn't have scared you, never mind made you sad. You didn't know the brothers or the two angels. But somehow, the prospect of not having them in your life filled you with dread.

The tears were flowing faster now, cascading down your face.

Suddenly the wish to have stayed behind in the colorless universe crashed down on you. It would have been gentler on your heart.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #In Another Life #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #reader insert #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

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whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

Prof of Law Aaron Hotchner

Warning for violence, stabbing, nightmares, an anxiety attack, and drugs (the prescribed kind)

Aaron Hotchner is a retired Federal Persecutor-- just an AU where Hotch is a law professor for fun and angst!!

Bouncing Jack on his hip, Hotch smiles as he stands over Haley’s shoulder. He pulls his hand back from the cake, wincing when Haley smacks his hand away. She’s a perfectionist and having the smear of his finger through this cake is going to heavily disrupt her otherwise perfect spreading.

“Oh come on,” he pouts, he turns his body so she can see Jack. “We just want a little,” he attempts. Rousing his son, he jogs the boy up a little more in his arms. “Tell her Jack, tell Mommy, say only a little.” Despite being very much daddy’s little boy, Jack smirks and turns his head away. Giggling and babbling nonsense into his father’s shoulder. Wiping his face on Hotch’s shirt.

Hotch plays along. “See,” he offers, “just like he said. We only want just a little bit.”

Haley rolls her eyes, smiling at his antics. She reaches around the cake to the mostly empty tub the icing had come in. “Go,” she instructs, handing it to him. “Get out of my kitchen Aaron Hotchner before I beat you with this spoon.” She searches across the counter for the wooden spoon she’d used to keep the green beans on the oven stirred.

He smiles and kisses her head, avoiding the spoon when she tries to jab at his side with it.

As he’s walking away, egging Jack on in his triumph of obtaining the icing, there’s a knock at the door. He’s still talking to the baby, so stepping away from the cake she moves so she can see down the hall from the kitchen. To see if he’s getting the door. “Aaron--”

He steps into the hall and winks at her, “I’ve got the door.” He curses softly, pulling his hand away from Jack’s mouth. He’s swiped a finger into the container before coming to the door. Jack mercilessly chumps down on his fingers and regardless of his absent teeth it still hurts.

“Hey--”

Hotch lands flat on his back. The world a dark haze and a strange eerily painful chill in his side. Pain like he’s never felt before. Touching his side, he lifts his head off of the floor and stairs in shock at his hand. The dark, thick crimson of his blood. So much blood.

“Aaron!? Oh my God!”

Choking, Hotch tries to move. Mouth open and back arching, he kicks out blindly. The pain creating a black haze around his vision. Coughing and turning his head as he wheezes around the obstruction in his airway, his own blood, he can hear more gunshots. Jack screams, wailing, and sobbing on in distress. There is one final gunshot and the crying stops. The house falls silent.

“Jack,” he tries to move but his arms won’t hold his weight. “Jack,” he calls again, panic rising. “Come on, buddy,” he cries. “Where--” blinking the blood from his eyes he looks up and into the face of someone he hasn’t seen in a decade. George Foyet.

Leaning down, Foyet places his foot against Hotch’s throat. He presses down just enough to cut off the rest of his oxygen, smiling when Hotch uselessly tries to push him away. “Remember me, Aaron? Aaron? Aaron! Aaron--”

“Aaron! Easy, easy.”

He’s in bed. His grey t-shirt slick with his sweat and practically glued to his back. He’s safe. Looking around he can slowly start to piece together where he is. Dave’s house. Well, his house too but it’s Dave’s house.

“Woah,” perched on the corner of his bed is David Rossi. As silly as the older man looks in his matching pajama set (from probably the eighties) Hotch can’t spare the breath to do much more than lean into his embrace. “You’re alright,” Dave assures him, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. “Just breath for me kid,” Dave keeps Hotch pulled close, glad that he’s not trying to wrangle away just yet.

“Dave?” Hotch can feel himself shaking, his eyes pinched shut. He’s terrified, honestly. The nightmare had felt so real. So much like the real day. George Foyet had come into his home and-- “I need… Jack?” Hotch pulls away just enough to catch his old mentor’s eyes. Waiting to find the truth there. Because he can’t remember. His brain is split. Had he buried his son that day too? Is Jack… Is Jack dead too?

Dave smiles, it’s sad but it’s not mournful. “He’s sleeping in his bed,” Dave promises. “I checked on him before I came in here.”

Hotch can feel the hitch in his chest as he lets out a relieved breath. “He’s okay?” Hotch asks, he needs the clarification.

Dave nods, “perfectly content.” That’s the easy part about being a baby when the world goes to shit. Jack will never know his mother but he’ll also never have to wake, like his father, in cold sweats shaking from nightmares. Terrified and alone.

“Okay,” Hotch pulls back, scooting back in the bed so he can cross his legs and rest his head in his hands.

Watching him with an air of concern Dave sighs. He looks at the clock and shakes his head. It’s four in the morning and there’s no way that Aaron’s going back to sleep now. “You good,” he asks. As much as he’d like to stick around and make sure Hotch gets back to sleep… that’s futile.

For the last few years, they’ve been working on getting Aaron through the night. Whether it’s nightmares or insomnia he can’t seem to get a break.

Hotch nods with his face covered by his hands.

Dave stands and looks back over his shoulder one more time. “Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“Try and get some more sleep, alright? You can’t afford to lose anymore.”

Hotch doesn’t look up but hums in agreeance. Already he can feel the low throb at the back of his skull. If he starts drinking coffee now maybe he’ll make it through his first few classes without passing out. In the vending machines outside his office, they sell these little bottles of five-hour energy.

He’s a little too old to go chugging those but he’s not going to go canceling his class over a little missed sleep.

It’s been a long time since he even thought about consuming this much coffee.

By six a.m. he’s consumed four cups.

“How long have you been up?”

Hotch blinks sluggishly despite the warm fifth mug of coffee in his hands. “Hmm,” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Directing Jack down the hall, hand over the boy’s head like a claw, Dave looks Hotch down. His posture is awful, bent over himself, with dark rings under his eyes. “I asked how many cups of coffee you’ve had but I’m afraid I don’t want the answer.” Pushing Jack along, the boy scurries into the kitchen. Buzzing past his father to make a B line for the milk and cereal.

“Don’t spill the milk,” Hotch mumbles, watching Jack fumble with the carton.

It’s been nearly three years since George Foyet’s attack.

The man was released from prison for “good behavior” as young, white men tend to get off. It seemed as if the two young women he’d killed were brought to justice in the ten years he spent in prison. How easy it must have been for the justice system to see the opportunity in a man like him, while ignoring the ones he’d taken. A misguided youth and a tragic backstory only adding to their empathy.

The atrocities he’d committed were not of his own accord, of course not. It’s always so much easier to blame those young women or perhaps his mother. If those girls had not been out so late at night, if they hadn’t worn skirts and frilly tops then he would have never noticed them to begin with. If his birth mother had loved him more...

None of that matters now.

They considered Geroge Foyet “cured” and released him back into society.

Where his first stop was to a library, where he found the address of the man who put in prison. Federal Prosecutor Aaron Hotchner.

This is the part the dreams never get right. Foyet didn’t have a gun. He had a knife. A single pocket knife that he stole from a junkie in an alley. It had been late and Haley had answered the door. Hotch hadn’t even heard her cry out for him. He’d been wrangling Jack out of the tub, the little boy a mess of squirming limbs and very upset with his father for making him take a bath.

They’d been in Jack’s room when Foyet found them.

He’d had his back turned to the door, shushing the crying baby as best as he could while trying to get a diaper around his kicking legs. The first stab had been so quick… by the third he was on his knees and unable to do anything besides keep falling.

On that floor, George Foyet stabbed him six more times. Jack had screamed and cried the entire time. He’d been too young to understand, not even a full year old, but he knew something wasn’t right.

In the dreams, Foyet always kills Jack too. The harsh, overwhelming sound of silence those little cries silenced. There one moment and gone the very next.

He can’t remember much of what happened.

Foyet had moved to Jack, picking the boy up and shushing him. Hotch had watched, immobilized and too weak to even beg for his son to be spared. So he’d watched, choking on his blood, and slowly losing his battle with consciousness as Foyet settled down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and rocked his son. Soothed him.

A neighbor would walk by and see Haley laying in the hall. The blood…

Hotch had died on the operating table, a fact that Dave would later inform him of. He can’t remember recovery all that well. Clouded with drugs and grief, he… There was once, he remembers this clearly because it had only been a short time after he’d woken up, they’d brought Jack in. Dave and the nurses had been trying everything to calm him but he wasn’t sleeping or eating. He’d cry and cry and cry until he made himself puke or passed out.

The moment they placed Jack in Hotch’s arms, the baby had stilled. His pained cries dying to whimpers as he looked up at his father.

Hotch had been propped up with pillows. Too weak to even lift his own head but they’d stacked pillows around his sides and arms. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing his body down but he clung to Jack. Waking from his sleep in a panic each time, watching the room’s other occupants in case they might try to take Jack from him.

After all the time he’d been nearly unresponsive to them, if having Jack around would keep his heart rate up and his oxygen intake steadily improving no one was going to complain. Several times he woke to his gown being moved so they could place Jack against him. Skin on skin therapy does wonders on humans of all ages. Recovery had been easier with Jack there. The baby stripped to his diaper and nestled against his chest. Little fingers grasping onto him.

It’s been three years and George Foyet follows him everywhere he goes.

“Professor?”

He makes his own lesson plans. He knows which cases come up when. “Who--” he makes the mistake of looking at the screen and his heart stills in his chest. Swallowing thickly around the obstruction in his throat, he looks down to the floor forcing himself to take in a steadying breath. “Who, um, can explain why this case can’t be dismissed on the grounds of Gamble v United States?”

He doesn’t need to call on a student. There’s only about ten kids in the class and it's a ridiculously easy question.

“It’s two separate accounts,” someone speaks up. “Same thing, sure, same crime even but that’s not how double jeopardy works. Besides, you’d want to look more into United States v Felix. Um--” The hard sound of one of the automatically folding chairs shutting in on itself sounds out through the room. “Sir?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Hotch grips the edge of the desk tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I’m--” his knees buckle but he forces his weight to his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. “I’m okay,” he manages.

A student, he can’t tell which one, cautiously approaches his side. “Sir,” he calls. The student, Carter one of his more extroverted and adventurous students, squats down by his side, hand on his back just above his belt. “Not to alarm you,” Carter says, “but I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have any medicine? Is there something we can do?”

Hotch squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work against the tears rapidly falling down his cheek. “My--” he grabs frantically for his tie. The knot against his throat tightening steadily to a noose until he can’t stand it. His hands are too weak to pull the material away but graciously, his useless fingers are pushed aside. Carter undoes the knot quickly and Hotch is suddenly very thankful that Carter’s pompous, cocky agenda brings a tie into his little aesthetic.

“In my office,” Hotch rasps, his hand twisted around his dress shirt. “It’s--” he sinks to the floor, head between his knees. “... a few,” he manages, “in my office.”

Carter turns over his shoulder. “Billy!”

Hotch looks up and watches Billy meagerly rise from where she’s called. Billy, while a great student, is riddled with social anxiety. Despite having taught the young woman all three years he’s been employed at the university she can’t meet his eye when they talk. And she always makes great haste in avoiding him. He’s never bothered to figure out if she’s got issues with authority, a problem with her father, or if she just hates him that much.

Carter turns back to Hotch, surprised by the startlingly vacant look in the man’s eyes. His eyes just watch Billy where she stands anxiously waiting to find out what awful thing she’s going to be asked to do.

“Sir,” Carter shakes Hotch a little. Smiling reassuringly when Hotch’s bloodshot eyes meet his. “I’m going to send Billy to get Professor Prentiss, is that okay? Billy is going to get the professor and we’re going to head to your office, alright?”

Hotch nods.

“Can-Can’t someone else go?”

Carter helps Hotch to his feet, graciously nodding his head to another student who slides under Hotch’s other arm. “No, Billy. Now go.”

Professor Prentiss is a notorious hardass. Her students love her but everyone else is terrified to even cross her path. She’s like a black cat, bound to be bad luck. It did not help Hotch’s already scary demeanor to befriend her. To spot the two of them coming across campus, Emily always professionally dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and Hotch in his standard suit and tie, they’d built a good rapport for being scarily mysterious.

Despite how frequently they could be spotted in the campus café laughing over a cup of coffee. Their human moments always outweigh their harsh ones. In fact, Emily Prentiss has only ever come down on a few students. The ones dumb enough to try and fool her. Hotch has never raised his voice to a student and is surprisingly lenient for a law professor or even just a professor in general.

For goodness sake, Emily stops to talk to the campus cats.

Hotch wears a little beanie with a red knot at the top Professor Garcia made him two Christmas’ ago and spends the spring semester chasing his son around the quad. (Garcia made him the beanie so she could recognize him easier in public. There are way too many tall men in suits around but the red little knot makes him easily detectable)

That’s not to say they’re still not intimidating.

“Pr-Professor Prentiss?”

Turning slowly from her chalkboard, Emily faces the weary voice. First of all, this is a senior advanced level Arabic class so there are only five students present and she knows each and everyone one of them. Well enough to know that whoever just called out her name is not one of her own. Nevermind they never break from Arabic during class time. Under her breath, in Arabic, Emily mumbles, “freshman.”

Yet, the young woman is dressed surprisingly professional.

“What is it,” Emily asks, crossing her arms. She pushes her glasses down her nose, moving the reading frame out of her sight. Looking down the length of her nose, raising an eyebrow at the girl. As if interrupting her class wasn’t bad enough, she’s not trying to waste instruction time on some undergraduate student roaming where she shouldn’t be.

The student steps in a little more, chest heaving, breathless, and looking anywhere but at Emily, stammers her way through an explanation. “Uh,” she wets her lips. “Um, Prof--Professor Hotchner he, um, he was-- he was taking us through, um, a criminal law case and he was…”

The half-amused smirk on Emily’s lips placed there in the humor of what she thought was going to be some silly mistake or a prank from a coworker is wiped away. Penelope has sent mischievous students her way in the past, to knock them down a few pegs or remind them who's in-charge here. Derek’s sent way too many kids over, a whole class once, instead of doing his job. It’s becoming very clear this is not a joke.

Tossing her glasses on her desk, she demands, “where is he?”

The girl takes two steps back, not liking Emily’s shift. “He, um, Carter took him to his office, ma’am. He--”

Emily turns to her students, “class is canceled. I’ll send you a text this afternoon to make up for class.” Then with a nod, takes off up the catwalk, shoes sounding sharply against the tile. “We’ll facetime!” Motioning the girls to follow, “you, with me. Let’s go.”

She sends Dave a text, nothing complex just “Aaron, SOS”.

Hotch’s office is down the same hall as his favorite auditorium to lecture in. She’d bullied him pretty hard upon finding this fact out. It sounded very, very nerdy. And it is. What kind of normal person has a favorite lecture hall? Let alone a favorite room? Just as promised, that’s where he is.

He’s on the floor, stripped of his jacket and his shirt thrown open to reveal his white-shirt. His head is in between his knees and a young man, Carter, Emily presumes, is struggling to open the orange bottle of Valium. People go broke buying the stuff from drug dealers and Hotch will refuse one up until he’s breathless and shaking.

“Get out.”

The boy stops, “what?”

Emily nods her head out the door, “both of you, out.”

They share a look but neither student puts up a fight.

Emily cracks the bottle open with a single twist, pouring a pill out into her hand. The only thing she has around to drink is what looks like either tea or coffee from (nothing him) days ago. He doesn’t use creamer but there’s still probably something toxic in their brewing. “Here,” she kneels down beside him.

He looks up, face broken out in sweat and cheeks flushed, and takes the pill from her palm.

“You okay,” she asks, rubbing his back. She watches her friend carefully, studying him.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, ticking the seconds away in his head. Nodding, he closes his eyes and hangs his head back limply between his knees. He lasts only a moment, eyes flying open she finds nothing but pure terror in his dark eyes.

“Hotch,” she calls, unsure if he’s even here with her right now. “Hotch, calm down. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “hard to breathe…” His hand comes to his shirt, gripping the white material tightly. “Can’t-- Can’t get enough… not enough air.”

She nods her head, sounds about right. “You’re okay,” she promises. “You’re completely safe right here with me, okay? We’re in your office and you’ve taken a Valium.”

He nods. Right. His office. He can feel the rough mug and smell the old books.

It’s hot. “Off,” he rasps, tugging harshly on his shirt. “Off. I want it--” Too hot and too tight and all over him and--

“Okay,” Emily stops his frantic movements, his hands tearing at his dress shirt. “Okay,” she grabs his left hand by the wrist, easily pulling the shirt off his shoulder and moving his arm out of the fabric. He’s already calming back down, sinking forward as she works his right arm out.

He’d been trapped. Hot and trapped and his brain isn’t working right.

“That’s better,” Emily whispers. She moves closer to him, sitting between his legs and hesitantly pulls him into a hug. He goes where he’s pulled, letting her guide his head to her shoulder.

He sniffles, unable to stop his tears. “He was there,” he whispers. “I saw him.”

She soothes him but she has no idea who or what he’s talking about it. All she knows is that three years ago Dave dragged Hotch here and had a look around. He’d been a mess then. Hair windswept or maybe just unkept and leaning heavily on a cane while Jack had circled them excitedly. She’d shaken his hand and greeted him because Dave is her friend; he'd introduced Aaron as an old friend. He’d looked haggard and disheveled but that hadn’t bothered Emily too much. He’d intrigued her.

Aaron started in an introductory course that fall. Predictably, Dave had allowed him into their trusted group of friends. He’d been removed, at first. Distant and didn’t speak much. Not that he speaks all that much now but it was so much worse back then. Whatever he’d needed that cane for, whatever had driven him from prosecution, whatever had made him a widower and single father that remained his secret. A part of him so guarded only Dave knew and, as she suspected, he would be the only one to ever know.

“Good Lord,” Dave appears in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight before him. “You look like hell.” He leans against the frame of the door, arms crossed. “You know,” he informs them casually. “The two of you have officially ruined your image around here. How’s anyone going to be afraid of you if they walk past this door and see the two of you cuddling on the floor?”

Emily scoffs but doesn’t move away. She keeps moving her hand up and down his back. His breathing has calmed back down but his heart is still racing. “Shut up,” she grumbles. “At least, my reputation isn't being a sleaze bag.”

Dave sucks his teeth, frowning at her. “I am not a sleaze bag,” he defends. He’s not. His reputation for sleeping with the faculty does preside him but it’s horribly honorable that he stays away from the students. They all know coworkers not upholding that standard.

“You okay,” Emily directs her attention back to Hotch. He squirms out of her hold, shakily forcing his feet back under his body and standing.

“Hey,” Garcia knocks on the door and squeezes in beside Rossi. “Everything okay in here?”

Hotch turns his body away from her, scrubbing his face with hands.

“Yeah,” Emily assures her with a smile. It’s obviously not the truth. Hotch is standing in his white undershirt, dress shirt and suit jacket on the floor. His tie not even on the same half of the room. There’s a pill bottle knocked over on his desk and his hair, from what can be seen from the back, is crazy. “We’re good, Pen.”

Garcia nods her head, skeptically. “Okay,” she smiles, eyeing Hotch. He glances over his shoulder at her and she can see his red rimmed eyes and wet face. It’s okay if he doesn’t trust her with this kind of stuff just yet. She understands. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Hotch nods, “we’ll see you there.” His voice is surprisingly rough but she leaves without comment.

Emily reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here, alright?” He’s still shaking and looks rather awful. “I’m going to send your class home. Take a nap or something, you look like a train wreck.”

Hotch just hums, lifting his his hands to his face. The feeling of his body is yet to return. His arms don’t even feel connected to his body. Rubbing his hands across his face he can hear Emily and Dave whispering behind him.

“See you at lunch, Hotch.” Emily says as she steps out of the room.

Leaving Dave and Hotch.

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Dave asks.

Hotch sighs but doesn’t turn to face the man.

“Come on,” Dave sighs. “It’s been years. If you don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.”

George Foyet going to kill Aaron. Maybe not today but it’s a matter of time.

“Not now,” Hotch mumbles, turning his attention to his desk. He brushes the spilled pills into the bottle. Ignoring the careful way Dave regards him. He knows he has to eventually work out these stupid nightmares. It’s one thing to find himself trapped there in that house at night. It’s another when the nightmares work their way into the light.

“One day then, hmm?”

Hotch freezes, his anxiety sky rockets just thinking about it. They’ll have to institutionalize him first. Drug him up and throw away the key before he finds the words to describe what happened that day. Mentally, he’s not even sure he’s strong enough to think about it for too long.

Clearing his throat Hotch nods, “right.” He takes a deep breath. Lawyers are blood sucking liars, right? Well, he hopes this once Dave believes his bluff. “One day.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #emily prentiss #jack hotchner #canon divergence #crimimal minds au #penelope garcia #spencer reid #derek morgan #jennifer jareua #haley hotchner #george foyet

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sxypigeon · 3 years ago

Text

Shepard is done with everyone's bullshit

Chapter 2 of An Extra Extended Ending

Summary: Because I hated the ending of the third Mass Effect game so much, I made my own with black jack and hookers. FemShep x Liara with damn near every character is the third game making an appearance.

Chapter 1

***

“How long until communications can reach beyond Sol?”

“It’s unclear,” the asari comm technician said hesitantly; the hum of the ship's electronics seemed to grow in the silence. “Quantum communication seems to be unsalvageable. That just leaves the Sol relay, but our latest reports indicate it sustained damage from the firing of the crucible.”

Sparatus sighed heavily and closed his eyes; this was a hollow victory until he knew the fate of Palaven. “Is there anyone working on it now?”

“No, sir. Those reports only came in minutes ago.”

“What about the team working on the crucible?” Tevos asked. “The brightest minds in the galaxy would have the best chance of fixing it – the sooner the better.” The asari councilor paced around a circular display in the middle of the CIC of the Destiny Ascension looking every bit as impatient as her turian colleague.

“They may be able to, but there is another group we would be foolish to ignore,” Valern muttered quietly, staring at the three dimensional screen, watching the number of surviving ships increase slowly as communication was reestablished ship-by-ship.

“What are you . . .” A look of alarm crossed Sparatus’ face. “No,” the turian said stiffly as he pushed himself away from the display.

“Is it really that terrifying of an idea? It’s only a matter of time before the geth come back online. If we act soon, we may be able to keep our alliance with them intact, maybe even strengthen it.” The salarian folded his arms across his chest and eyed Sparatus intently.

He narrowed his eyes. “Or they may turn on us the moment they realize they have nothing more to gain from our alliance. It’s one thing to cooperate when there is no choice, but what would be their incentive now?”

Valern shook his head condescendingly. “The geth are not as shortsighted as you think.” He brought up the pre-fight fleet numbers. “If even a fraction of their troops survived, it would be in their best interest to repair the relays,” he stated firmly, pointing at the image. “They value knowledge above all else and what better source is there than the relays?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve come in contact with an AI species. There is too much at risk,” Tevos said quietly from across the room. “If we act quickly-”

“We’ll what? Destroy all of the units in Sol?” Valern shouted over the asari councilor. “How many more do you think are out there? We’d be risking another war - one we are ill prepared for.”

“And you want to send them to work on the relay?! What happens when they acquire the knowledge they seek? What’s to stop them from using it against the rest of the galaxy?” Sparatus marched back to the display and brought up images of the Citadel attack nearly four years earlier. “This is what will happen. They have no use for organics. They made that abundantly clear!”

The salarian councilor shook his head in frustration. “We know how persuasive the Reapers can be and yet even after being attacked by the quarians and being on the verge of annihilating them, they agreed to a truce. These are not simple machines, Sparatus!”

“Why are you so convinced?” Tevos asked suspiciously. She walked slowly around the display toward him. “You were vocally against curing the genophage, why is this different?” She fixed on him with a penetrating stare. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Valern scoffed at the accusation. “I see I’m alone in my conviction. What more can I say to either of you?” With a last impatient glare at his colleagues, the salarian turned and strode from the room. “If not as an act of the Council, then as an act of the salarian people, the geth will be brought back online!” he called back as the door closed behind him.

A tense silence followed Valern and lingered long after he left. “Do we even know if any of the science team is still in Sol?” Sparatus asked quietly while bracing himself on the terminal in front of him.

“No, but we will know soon enough,” she said before sending out the call for help.

***

Spirits, it’s a miracle she survived, the head nurse thought as he wheeled the patient out of surgery. At least it’s a bit of good news . . . Sure could use a bit more, though.

A sea of medics split to allow the turian and human through the bustling ward. Endless lines of beds on either side of the walkway were filled with too many injured, too many that would not last the next twenty-four hours. That’s not- No, I can’t think like that. There’s too much to do to focus on something so trivial. You’re in charge of this ward, damn it! You have lives to save. . .

He squeezed the gurney between two others and began setting up IVs and monitoring equipment. I need to make my rounds soon. We should be getting another shipment of refugees from the Citadel soon- He froze and stared at the patient. She’s not supposed to be waking up yet! “Ma’am, can you hear me?” he asked, staring down at her.

The woman drowsily blinked for a moment before lifting her eyes and focusing on the turian . . . and letting out a sudden, terrified scream. “AHHHH!!!”

Damn it, not again. “Ma’am, it’s okay. You’re aboard the Destiny Ascension.” Another blood-curdling scream. “Ma’am, you’re safe! You were injured-”

“Hey! That’s enough!” Both quickly looked over to the next bed and saw the occupant giving them a stern glare. “I know turians are ugly, but you’re going to make the guy self-conscious if you keep up the screaming.”

The woman stared, gaping at the other patient, long enough for the nurse to inject a sedative into her IV. “There you go, ma’am. Just relax.” They watched tensely as the woman quickly sank bonelessly back into her pillow. Finally. I’m not going to live this down any time soon, he thought as other orderlies snickered as they passed.

“So, who do I need to talk to to get out of here?” the other patient asked after a moment.

“Myself,” he said as he finished setting up the sleeping woman’s monitoring equipment. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“I figured you could use another empty bed.”

“What I need is for my patients to recover sufficiently, regardless of how much they think otherwise.” He walked over to the patient and looked at her chart. Human female, numerous serious burns, deep puncture wound to the right side, three fractured ribs – well this just goes on and on. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”

“Fantastic,” she said dryly inspecting the bandages on her hands and arms. “The pain meds wore off a while ago – No! No, I’m not asking for more.”

“If you need them-”

The patient shook her head. “I’m okay. I just,” she paused for a moment and chose her words carefully, “I need to be doing something. I can’t just lay here and – and think. Just give me a once over before you make me stay . . . please.”

He recognized the quiet desperation in her voice and the pleading in her eyes. “Fine.” With a healthy amount of skepticism, the turian gently unwrapped the bandages on her left arm. That can’t be right- He checked the chart again. How the hell? Humans aren’t supposed to heal this quickly. This is more in line with a krogan . . . maybe even faster.

“It’s not pretty, but it’s still better than it was before,” she said quietly, examining the slightly inflamed skin.

“Remarkable is what it is.” He unbandaged the other arm and stared in numb disbelief. “There has to be some sort of mistake in your chart-”

“I think you’ll find my side is sufficiently healed as well.”

The nurse met her piercing stare before pulling back the blanket and lifting her hospital gown. Spirits . . . this is incredible, he thought after removing the gauze. “How is this possible? Even if you spent the last six hours in a vat of medi-gel, you wouldn’t be able to heal this quickly.”

“I’m not exactly a normal human.” The ward around them moved on, unaware of the medical anomaly the head nurse was observing. “So what do you think?” she asked hesitantly.

I think the galaxy needs to study you, but . . . you don’t belong in the ICU. “I can see no justification for keeping you here, but we’re going to need to get you fed and cleaned up before you can go anywhere.” He noted the change in her status in her chart, shaking his head in disbelief as he did. “I’ll send someone over with a meal.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to leave but stopped, hesitating a moment. “Ma’am . . . everything you’ve done – everyone you’ve saved . . . there aren’t words strong enough to convey the gratitude we – I feel toward you. Thank you, Commander.”

The soldier nodded numbly, not meeting his eyes.

But it never feels like enough, he thought sadly. Stay strong, Shepard. I fear we may need you now more than ever.

***

“-he’s going-”

“No, it’s-”

“Where-”

A sharp radiating pain drilled between the exhausted asari’s eyes as distant voices became clear. “It all looks fine, no permanent damage. You are cleared for duty.”

Dr. Chakwas, the med bay. . . the crash. . . Shepard. . .

“Liara? Can you hear me?”

With an enormous effort, she opened her eyes. “Yes,” she rasped out. Her throat was so dry.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not at all well.” She rolled onto her side trying to lessen the pain.

“This should help.”

Something wonderful flowed through her veins, dulling the agony. “Where are we?” she asked tentatively.

“Armstrong nebula, but beyond that no one is sure. They say the planet is habitable though, with a breathable atmosphere and a comfortable gravity.” She helped Liara sit up and handed her a bottle of water. “Finish this and then get some rest.”

She gulped it down gratefully as worry began to sink in. “Do you know what happened to us?”

“Not really,” the doctor admitted. “Whatever that energy field was, it left no physical trace other than several cases of acute epistaxis – nosebleed.” She handed Liara another bottle of water. “Your case was a bit worse, likely due to trying to help the engineers restart the core for over an hour with your biotics.”

Liara sighed tiredly, staring at the bottle, “Not that it did any good. Have we been able to reach anyone back in Sol?”

“I’m afraid not. Specialist Traynor thinks the quantum communication network is beyond repair. We will have to rely on the relays and hope someone is out there to hear us.” The doctor let her cheery façade slip for a moment, long enough to hint at the extent of the worry she was trying to hide. It slid back into place as Chakwas laid a hand on Liara’s shoulder. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

But will it ever? she thought as she stared up at the ceiling, feeling the numbing darkness pull her back under.

***

“This has got to be the most confusing hell-hole I’ve ever been to.”

“What’s so confusing about it, Mr. Vega?” Steve Cortez asked as he finished his lukewarm MRE.

“It’s not the layout or anything like that – it’s the people.” Vega pushed himself gingerly off the cot on the floor of a mostly intact office building and pulled the bottle of water from the shuttle pilot’s hands. “Thanks, Estaban. It’s like no one can tell what they’re supposed to be feeling,” he muttered, flexing his injured leg.

Cortez took back his water and scanned the area. Roughly five miles from where the beam had been in central London, a small outpost had been hastily established to tend to the injured. Understaffed and undersupplied, it was not a place of miraculous medical operations, but a last-ditch effort to save as many survivors as possible – including James Vega. “After months of hopelessness, there is plenty to be thankful for . . . and just as much to mourn for.”

“It just feels – shit, I don’t know. Maybe it’s all of that blood I lost on the trek over here, but this just feels wrong. Javik, what’s your read on the situation?”

The prothean did not move from his meditative stance across the room. “Your species celebrates prematurely and mourns before the heaviest of losses are counted.” He paused for a moment before bowing his head slightly, “But even with these flaws, it is your cycle that stopped the Reapers – whether for good or just temporarily. That is more than what can be said of my cycle.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Vega said tiredly. “Do you think – what set off the crucible?”

A sad smile pulled at Cortez’s lips, “Until I hear otherwise, I’m going to believe Shepard did.”

“I’m okay with that,” the lieutenant said as he laid back down. He was out within minutes.

“How is the human krogan?” Javik asked without moving.

Cortez rubbed his face roughly as he tried to shake the melancholy brought on by the thought of Shepard. “The medics think he’ll make it.”

“Good, our efforts dragging him here were not in vain,” the prothean said sternly. “Do not lose your determination – the fight may be over, but your people will need you and Vega.”

“That goes for you too, Javik. You’re one of us now. We aren’t about to forget what you’ve done to help us.”

Javik bowed his head in acknowledgement, but remained silent.

We’re going to need everyone, Cortez thought as he stared around the room at the other cots filled with injured soldiers. I just hope there’s enough of a galaxy left worth rebuilding.

***

“So what you’re saying is we’re screwed.”

“Not entirely,” Tali said hesitantly as Garrus and Williams stared up at the motionless mass effect core in despair. “What we’re saying is that it will take a while, a few weeks at least.”

“Assuming it’s fixable at all,” Williams said skeptically.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, Commander,” Adams said calmly, “but I think we’ll be able to get it up and running again.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Garrus offered.

Williams took a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll inform the crew,” she said before heading to the elevator.

“How is she doing?” Daniels asked as they all stared back at the core.

“She’s managing,” Garrus said quietly. “She still doesn’t know if she can fill the void Shepard left, but she knows she has to.”

“No one can replace Shepard, but that wasn’t ever the plan was it?” Tali asked.

“No, but it’s going to feel that way for a while – at least until we get a rhythm going,” Donnelly said. “Any luck with EDI?”

“Not yet.” Garrus headed toward the elevator. “I’ll let you know if we make contact with anyone. Let us know if there’s anything we can do topside.”

***

“Watch the right flank!” Grunt roared over the gunfire. He and his men were deep in the wards flushing out and dispatching Cerberus troops. “Take out that engineer!”

It was slow, grueling work. Street by street, building by building, the enemy was steadily falling back. They’d even managed to save a few civilians. It wasn’t their primary goal, but it did give him a sense of pride knowing he prevented someone’s death by causing another’s.

“Move up!” They were meeting fewer and fewer troops until recently, not that it bothered him. What worried him was the number of engineers they’d come across in this neighborhood. Something was brewing.

“Keep an eye out for explosives and turrets,” he growled as the last enemy fell. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

The squad moved carefully from the courtyard to the building interior. No resistance, no one at all. What are we missing? Cowards, where are you hiding?

“Let’s get out of here,” he ordered before they’d finished securing the building. “Double-time it!” This smells like a trap.

“What was that?!” one of his men yelled as the building shook violently.

Shooting out a window, Grunt bellowed, “Get out of the building NOW!” His men leaped from the window three stories up. The krogan commander followed and landed hard on the walkway below just as the building collapsed. “Those damn cowards,” he growled. “They’ll have to do better than that!”

***

I can’t wait to get off of this fucking ship. At least the food is decent – I am beyond sick of MREs. Jack checked her omni-tool for the fourth time in five minutes. What the hell is taking so long?

After arriving with an unconscious Shepard, she watched uneasily as her friend was wheeled away to surgery. The next hour was a blur of confusion, exhaustion, and anxiety. At some point she’d managed to sleep for a few hours. Now she was an irritable and short tempered ball of energy, desperate to get back to Earth and her kids.

“Keep that up and people will think you’re unbalanced,” a soft voice said behind her.

“Fuck you,” Jack said with a hint of relief. “I can’t believe they let you out. I mean – you still look like shit.”

“Thank you, Jack. You always know how to cheer me up.” Shepard sat next to the biotic with her protein bar and electrolyte drink. “What’s going on?”

“Who the fuck knows?” She stared at the table in front of her. “No communication outside of the system, Grunt is still securing the Citadel, still no word on my kids or the Normandy.”

“Earth?”

“Bits and pieces. Nothing yet on your boys in London.” She watched Shepard eat mechanically, stoic to the lack of information.

“I have to meet with the council and then after that, hopefully we can catch a shuttle back to London.”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Whenever I feel like it.”

About damn time you started telling those spineless fuckers where they can shove it. She stared at the softly glowing scars on her face and neck. Someone hasn’t been thinking happy thoughts. “So are we going to dick around here for a while to piss them off?”

She shook her head after she finished the last of the meal. “There are a few things I need to say before they start another victory tour. I’m going to need you there to keep me in check.”

A small snort of laughter escaped Jack, “You’re shitting me, right?”

Shepard stood and gave her a tight smile. “Let’s just say I’m a little short on patience at the moment.”

“Well, shit. I might have to film this.” She followed the commander with a sinister grin. “Let’s go make some councilors cry.”

***

“I don’t know what else there is to try,” Traynor said tiredly. “My expertise is on a smaller scale. I don’t know how to fix a comm problem on a galactic scale!”

Williams leaned on the terminal that had been Shepard’s in the CIC. “A galactic scale? What does that mean?”

The comms specialist ran her hands through her hair. “There are a couple of possibilities. First, we are the only survivors and that is why we haven’t reached anyone-”

“Let’s not go with that possibility.”

“Okay. Second, something is actively blocking our communications – natural or otherwise.”

“Reapers blocking communication,” the lieutenant commander said stoically.

“Or third, the mass relays are not functioning properly, due to damage or complete destruction.”

“From the crucible firing.” The CIC was silent as Williams contemplated the scenarios. “And none of these can be fixed while we’re stuck here.”

“No, ma’am.”

What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?! Damn you, Shepard. It should be you here not me. “Let’s focus on the small scale then. What can we do to get the Normandy space worthy again?”

Traynor stared at the nonfunctional galaxy map as she bit her lip. “There are still several systems that haven’t come online that should have by now. There’s the exterior damage and then there’s EDI.”

“What’s the status of EDI?”

“Completely unresponsive.”

“Shit,” Williams muttered. “Do we have any idea how to get her back up?”

Traynor was silent for a moment. “I have a few ideas, but I’m not sure if they’d do any good. When Dr. T’Soni feels up to it, I’d like to get her input.”

“She was still passed out in the med bay last I checked.” She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Do what you can to bring up the other systems – keep me updated.”

***

“How are you holding up?”

Joker looked away from the foliage surrounding the cockpit and saw Garrus approaching. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Crashed the ship, cracked four ribs, and my girlfriend might be dead. How about you?”

“I’m alive, that’s more than I expected to be honest.” He dropped into the seat next to the pilot. “In large part thanks to you.”

The pilot looked away. “Yeah don’t get too gushy yet. We may have to start calling this place home even if we can get the Normandy off the ground.”

“If that’s the case,” Williams said as she approached, “then I think our first priority should be finding something growing out there that can be distilled before we run out of liquor.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page,” Garrus chuckled. “I don’t suppose we know if what’s growing out there is levo- or dextro-amino based.”

“If we distill it enough it shouldn’t matter,” Joker said, staring back out at the jungle. “No protein in pure ethanol.”

Williams shared a concerned look with Garrus before speaking behind the pilot’s chair. “I’ve been talking to Traynor – she has some ideas on how to bring EDI back. Once Liara is up and about she and Traynor can start working on her.”

Joker continued staring out of the window as if he didn’t hear her. “Okay,” he finally said quietly.

***

Finally, Tevos thought as Shepard stepped through the open door. She looks much better, but are her scars glowing? “Shepard, we were beginning to worry. Who is your companion?”

The Spectre stood at parade rest in front of the asari while her comrade remained near the door. “Jack, this is the council. Councilors Tevos and Sparatus, meet Jack – a teacher at Grissom Academy. She’s here to . . . keep an eye on me while I’m recovering.”

A snort of laughter escaped the other human as she folded her arms across her chest. Shepard always did keep strange company.

“May I inquire where the salarian councilor is?” Shepard asked soberly.

“Valern has decided he would be more comfortable aboard a salarian ship,” Sparatus said stiffly. “That is part of why we needed to speak with you.”

Tevos activated the display at the center of the room showing an image of the Sol relay, it’s rings fractured and stationary. “It would seem the relays were damaged when the crucible fired. We have many of the crucible scientists working to repair it, but there’s been discussion about whether other groups should be recruited to help.”

“Why would we not ask everyone to fix it?” Shepard asked with a slight edge to her voice.

“This is the most advanced technology in the galaxy,” the turian said briskly. “In the wrong hands, this knowledge could endanger all of us.”

“So who hasn’t been invited to the party, the salarians?”

“No, the geth.”

Shepard frowned as she mauled over the information. “The geth are still alive?”

“They were never alive to begin with, Shepard. At the moment all units are offline,” Sparatus said, staring at the display. “Valern thinks they can be activated and recruited to help with repairs.”

Shepard fought to keep her face neutral. “Why not ask for their help? From where I’m standing, it looks like we could use all the help we can get. Don’t forget the rachni, they’ve also been proven to be very capable and intelligent.”

How does she not see the risks associated with her ideas? “Are you listening to a word you’re saying, Shepard? With the galaxy weakened as it is, it would take very little to change the balance of power and throw us all into another war.” Tevos turned and began to pace. “Caution is needed now more than ever,” she said as she stopped in front of the Spectre.

Shepard closed her eyes and let out a slow breath – her scars seeming to brighten as she did. “Are you suggesting we sever the alliances that we – no, what am I saying? – that I forged to win this war-”

“There’s a difference between having an alliance and handing out loaded weapons that could be pointed back at us,” Sparatus interrupted.

Despite remaining still, the marine radiated anger, enough to make the armed guards perk up. “If you intend on backstabbing your allies, then yes you will have something to worry about.”

“Commander, your vision of the galaxy is naïve,” Tevos stated impatiently. “You of all people should know what the risks associated with-”

Shepard barked out a laugh, breaking her immobile stance. She shook her head in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Councilor, but I can’t buy into the idea that I’m the naïve one. How long do you think it will take for the galaxy to find out your people have been hiding the best preserved prothean beacon in existence? Do you honestly think you will be able to remain the superior race? If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you will have to worry about the rest of the galaxy, I think your own people will be the ones to tear down your species. How many thousands of years have the asari been lied to, Councilor? Was that a risk worth taking?”

Tevos clenched her jaw as she fought her own anger. “And do you honestly think the galaxy will be better off without our guidance? Will the geth lead the way to the future or will it be the humans?” she asked acidly.

“I’d like to see what the galaxy can do together,” she said evenly. “But we can’t do that if we start severing alliances without just cause.”

Sparatus leaned over the galaxy map. “Shepard, what you’re saying is inspiring, but you can’t protect the galaxy with idealism,” he said standing beside Tevos. “The asari government will have to answer for their crimes, but what the galaxy needs now is stability . . . and someone they can stand behind-”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shepard spat. Behind her, Jack was muttering loudly about spineless politicians. “I’m not about to smile and assure the galaxy everything is fine,” she explained as she also leaned over the map, “while you screw them over when they’re not looking.” Shepard glared at Sparatus. “If that’s what’s expected of me as a Spectre then you’ll have to accept my resignation.”

“This isn’t a matter of right or wrong, Shepard!” he said with fire in his eyes. “This is about saving our galaxy and preventing a complete collapse of the community!”

Shepard took a step back and shook her head again. “A little honesty and accountability could go a long way, Councilor. We are all vulnerable, but we have an opportunity to make all of us stronger than we were before this war!” Shepard turned back to Tevos, “The galaxy will stand behind me regardless of if you want them to or not. The question is whether you’ll be standing with us or on your own.”

The drone of the ventilation system filled the room as Shepard turned and headed to the door. “How many billions died because of the decisions you’ve made?” she asked as she paused at the door. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to-” She turned to face them. “You had four years to prepare, but none of you did a damn thing. But this guilt doesn’t just belong to either of you, though. It’s just as much mine for not doing more, for not – for not-”

“Shepard, let’s go,” Jack said quietly.

“For the sake of the galaxy, I do hope there will be a change in the balance of power.” She followed Jack out of the room without a second glance.

“That went well,” the turian muttered tiredly. “If there’s nothing else, I too would like to be with my people.” He left without waiting for a reply.

The asari councilor remained unmoving long after they left, contemplating Shepard’s words and the fate of her race. Things will never be the same again . . .

***

“They have hundreds of civilians in the buildings ahead,” the krogan scout reported to Grunt.

The commander and his men were camped out in a maintenance tunnel roughly fifteen blocks away from the Cerberus stronghold. “What defenses will we face?”

“Portable barriers and too many turrets to count. A direct approach will be nearly impossible.”

Grunt narrowed his eyes and contemplated his next move. “It looks like we’ll be needing stealth then.” Several of his men shook their heads and growled impatiently. “Complain all you want, but I can promise you we’ll kill more of them this way. These tunnels run right under them. They’ll be dead before they know we’re there. Pack it up and move out!”

The tunnels, unfortunately, were never meant to fit a krogan. Crawling on their bellies single file, the soldiers pushed the lifeless bodies of keepers from their path. The tight space was making his men agitated, something Grunt struggled with just as much. Damn those Cerberus cowards. . .

As they progressed further, voices could be heard above them. “Get those turrets up now! We’ve lost sight of the Krogans and spotted a turian cruiser near the shopping center. Where are those mechs?!”

I’m going to enjoy this. Soon voices multiplied and words became blurred – the sound of dozens of footsteps echoed down the tunnel. We must be getting close. . .

The scout signaled and the squad branched off down the numerous side passages and waited. Time to finish this.

With an angry roar the krogans sprang from the tunnels. Cerberus troops too stunned to move were quickly cut down. “No more hiding!” Grunt followed after those fleeing from the chaos.

Thick clouds of smoke flooded the building he entered, blinding him. I can still hear you, still smell your fear. Staying low, he let out an angry growl and sprinted through the fog into the nearest shooting enemy, crushing him against the wall behind him. “Who’s next?!”

As he cleared the lobby of the building more gunfire was heard outside. Those aren’t my men . . .

Turians, and lots of them, were flooding the walkways, pushing Cerberus forces back faster. Grunt growled in annoyance as he moved to the next floor. Bastards are going to have this fight finished before it gets good!

***

“That is out of the question.”

“But, Dr. Chakwas-”

“Absolutely not.”

Traynor and Liara sighed in defeat under the doctor’s stern gaze. “Can we at least inspect Glyph to see if he can be brought online?” Liara asked impatiently.

“Only if you plan on doing it here in the med bay so I can keep an eye on you,” she said shortly. “I am completely serious about not using your biotics. Twenty-four hours and not a minute less.”

“Okay then,” Traynor said hesitantly, “we can at least brainstorm about what that energy wave was.”

Chakwas shook her head tiredly, “All of the symptoms were very mild and nearly identical: loss of consciousness, headaches, and nosebleeds.”

“All electronics were rendered useless, but chemical and biological systems remained mostly unaffected,” Liara muttered thinking of the glow stick Donnelly lit in engineering before the crash landing.

“It would have to have been something mostly inert to have passed through the entire ship, but leave little damage,” the comms specialist said thoughtfully as she pulled up a chair opposite Chakwas and T’Soni.

“But everything affected by it seems to be salvageable,” Chakwas said as she examined the crew’s medical logs since the crash.

“If it is inert, then there would have to have been a lot of it.” Liara shared a look with Traynor. “You’re thinking about a wave of dark matter, aren’t you? Like a dark matter EMP?”

“Neutrinos to be specific. Dark matter alone can account for ninety-five percent of a system’s mass. Neutrinos are only formed when something expending a lot of energy happens like a supernova or a nuclear reaction-”

“Or a relay firing?”

“It would seem like a logical jump,” Traynor said with some hesitation. “It’s been observed in very low levels after a ship has used a relay.”

“So, if that’s what it was then how did it drain nearly everything of potential energy?” Liara asked, letting her head fall into her hands.

“Liara?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a headache.”

“We’re stepping well past my area of expertise.”

The bay was silent for a moment as the women thought. “I do have one rather unsettling question,” Chakwas said calmly as she put down her notes. “If we can restore function to our omni-tools and maybe even EDI, could the Reapers also be restored – assuming of course that they were affected at all? Are they simply in a state of inactivation?”

The room fell silent.

“That would also be a logical leap,” Traynor said quietly.

***

Jack glared as their shuttle veered away from their intended destination. “Shepard, this doesn’t look like Earth.”

“No, it does not. Apparently we’re having a layover at the dreadnought up ahead.” Shepard felt a chill run down her spine as the small shuttle entered the cavernous hanger. I don’t think we’ll be leaving any time soon.

“That’s one hell of a welcoming party,” Jack muttered, eying the scores of armed soldiers assembling at the landing zone. “This normal procedure or are we just special?”

“We are special,” she sighed. The shuttle door opened with a hiss as Shepard exited. Immediately the soldiers came to attention and held a salute. I am not ready to be back to this.

A lone soldier marched briskly through the ranks of the others and stopped in front of Shepard with a crisp salute. “Welcome aboard, Staff Commander Shepard.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Shepard tried not to think about how much she didn’t want to be there as she returned the salute. “I asked to be taken back down to Earth. I’m a bit confused why I’m here.”

“If you’ll follow me, ma’am, Admiral Ahern will be able to answer all of your questions.”

Shepard came to a sudden stop. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you referring to Admiral Tadius Ahern of Pinnacle Station?”

“Yes, ma’am, I believe that was his previous assignment,” he said stoically as he turned and led them across the hanger.

“You want to fill me in on who this guy is?” Jack asked quietly as they neared the elevator.

“I may have . . . won the admiral’s apartment on Intai’sei in a bet a few years back.”

Jack shook her head a few times before finally saying, “Queen of the fucking girl scouts . . . Have you even set foot in the place?”

“Once,” she admitted as they entered the spacious lift. “I was a bit preoccupied with stopping a rogue spectre and his army of geth from wiping out the galaxy.” Shepard found herself syncing back up with the strict protocols usually practiced on larger ships, a long way from the casual atmosphere of the Normandy. What I wouldn’t give to be back there. . .

“Commander Shepard, it’s been a while,” the gruff admiral said as the group entered the combat information center.

“Yes it has, sir,” she said, saluting. “I see you still haven’t retired.”

“Can’t do that without a retirement home, now can I?” Ahern waited for his men to disembark before continuing. “This your protégé?”

Jack frowned, looking mildly insulted. “Hell, no.”

“She’s a friend,” Shepard said with a grin. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Ahern, but why the hell am I here?”

The older man chuckled and motioned them to follow him. “With Admiral Hackett beyond Sol and Admiral Anderson deceased – a great man, the galaxy is a worse place without him – I am the highest ranking officer. It’s my job to make the big decisions.”

Shepard nodded silently, her throat suddenly unbearably tight.

“I’ve been contacted by the salarian councilor,” he continued. “It seems he wants our help with a project.”

“I’m guessing it has to do with the geth,” Jack said dryly.

“That it does. Not long after the crucible fired and we restarted the systems on the ship, we began sending ships out to retrieve as many alliance fighters as we could before the poor bastards suffocated. Some of our ships also brought back geth fighters. I’m thinking we must have over a hundred of them in the hangar wherever we could find room.”

“Are any of them online?” Shepard asked. They came to a platform overlooking the entire CIC as well as one hell of a view of Earth from the enormous widows ahead of them.

“They weren’t initially,” he said leaning on the railing. “I had some of our techs try to jump start them, but it’s a slow process. We are able to bring up basic processes, though.” He paused, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “The problem is what happens if we can’t bring them back online completely. And now I’ve got the salarians breathing down my neck demanding access to them, but I’m not entirely sure if their interest in them is honorable.”

Shepard stared out the windows at Earth, feeling a wave of grief washing over her. “You want to help them, but don’t trust the salarians.”

“Organic or not, they came to our aid. Hell, I’m thinking of commissioning a memorial for them in London,” he said wearily with a bit of humor.

“And that’s why I always liked you, sir.”

“That’s touching, but I was hoping for a bit more feedback than that.”

She closed her eyes and took a long breath before answering. “What I know is that the turians and asari would rather leave the geth as they are.” Shepard shook her head sadly. “I haven’t spoken with the salarian councilor since shortly after firing the crucible, but I think you have good reason to hesitate.”

“I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance,” Jack muttered. “The prick wouldn’t stop going on about how saving Shepard’s life was a waste of time.”

“What stopped you?” Ahern asked, grinning.

“I was too busy fixing his and everyone else’s fucking omni-tools.”

“Shame. So what is your official recommendation, Commander?”

“For now,” she said after a moment, “allow them hands-off access. Be open to consultations, but have your men continue to take the lead on this. I’ve never known Councilor Valern to offer assistance out of the kindness of his heart.”

“That is as good of a plan as any.” He signaled one of his men to meet them. “Lieutenant Riley will show you to the armory and also get you fitted for a set of armor. There’s no telling what the situation down there is like with most of the comms down. It was good seeing you, Shepard, and meeting your protégé. Stay safe.”

Jack flipped him off before following Shepard.

***

Notes: Thanks for reading! I planned on adding more, but I forgot this existed for a few years and then lost the second half of this chapter. I'll see if I can track it down. :P

#mass effect #commander shepard #femshep x liara #liara t'soni #femshep

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

(Hold me Closer) Tiny Dancer

Chapter 2

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 1,293

Fic Warnings: Non-sexual age regression, split perspective, classification AU, canon-typical violence

Chapter Warnings: none?

Taglist: None for this fic. If you want to be added, just ask, but I know this is an odd topic and therefore will not tag anyone unless they ask

Jack’s not exactly the most stable human being on the planet, but when he tests as a Caregiver, all hell breaks loose as someone who was just his work partner suddenly becomes so much more.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 2 of ? Read Chapter 1 Here

-Whiskey- Two days later, Jack was sitting through the new recruits initiation. As each recruit came through the door and earned their name, Ginger texted him about each one through his glasses.

That one’s a flirt. You two should get along.

Jack snorted under his breath as Agent Gin was given his name.

She’s a sweetheart. Young too. Barely 25.

Agent Jägermeister sat across from Jack, nodding to him. He nodded back.

The final recruit came through the door, and Jack’s breath hitched in his throat.

That’s the Little.

“And finally,” Champ handed the newest agent their hat. “Agent Mojito.”

Agent Mojito sat next to Jack, on his left. He gave them a small nudge. “Welcome to Statesman.”

Mojito smiled a tiny smile and nodded their thanks.

Jack eyed Champ, who shrugged, as if reading his mind.

Standing, Jack held a hand out to Mojito. “Why don’t I show you ‘round. Being new here, it’s a bit of a maze.”

Mojito stood, brushing their shirt off. “Thank you,” they said. “But I have an appointment with Ms. Ginger. I’m sure I’ll see you around Mr. Whiskey.”

And just like that, Jack was left alone in the conference room, wondering exactly how this would all shake out in the end.

-Mojito-

To say you were nervous about working at Statesman was an understatement. You had passed each and every test with flying colors, completely shattering the last marksman record. However, the only hitch had been your classification. Ginger had pronounced you Little, a fact you already knew. She’d seemed nervous upon telling you Statesman had no Little agents, and you’d pretty much resigned yourself to failure then and there.

But apparently Champ saw something in you, because he insisted upon you being a recruit. This meant earning your hat, glasses, and name.

Agent Mojito.

Heading down towards the lab, you met with Ginger, who was waiting in the consultation room. You slid into a chair, nerves bundling in your stomach.

“So,” Ginger passed a few papers your way. “Those are prescription forms. Check all the data over and then sign at the bottom. Once you’ve done that, we can talk about your pills.”

You signed with ease, and once you handed Ginger back the papers, she pulled out an orange bottle. “Strongest dose I can give someone of your size. Take one in the morning, preferably with food. They’re 24 hour, so you only need one a day. This bottle has thirty pills, come back when you get down to five and I’ll authorize a refill. Everything is written on the side of the bottle, so don’t worry about remembering it.” She handed you a plastic card. “That will get you access to the lab, where I will refill your pills.”

You nodded, putting the pills in your pocket. “What if I miss one?”

“One should be fine,” Ginger reassured. “But if you miss more than one, then you could possibly crash. So I suggest you keep those safe. And if you go on any missions, be sure to plan ahead with refills. If you want to drop during weekends to relax or not put too much pressure on your body, not taking your pills from Friday to Monday will work. Just be sure to take a pill Monday morning, or else all hell may break loose.”

Again, you nodded.

Ginger stood. “That should be all,” she said. “Why don’t I show you out. Statesman headquarters are a bit of a maze.”

“That’s what Agent Whiskey said,” you remembered softly. “He’s nice.”

“Huge flirt,” Ginger said with a shrug. “Just mind yourself around him, and it should be fine.”

You two walked out together, Ginger smiling at you. “I can’t wait to work with you, Agent Mojito.”

Smiling, you got into your car, heading towards your small apartment. Today had been one hell of an experience, and you couldn’t wait to get some sleep.

----

Your first official day at Statesman was a disaster.

Well, it wasn’t actually a disaster. It just seemed like one.

You took your pill during breakfast in the cafeteria, sitting alone with a book. However, your glasses pinged before you could even finish your chapter.

Champ wants you down at the shooting range. Seems important.

Sighing, you pocketed your book and picked up your travel mug of coffee. Today was already shaping up to be very interesting.

The shooting range was easy enough to find, and before you knew it, you were face to face with Whiskey once more.

“Fancy seein’ you here,” he said in that thick southern drawl you found surprisingly interesting. “I suppose you’re responsible for breakin’ my shootin’ record.”

You smirked, confidence welling in your chest. “I suppose I am.”

Whiskey whistled. “Well. Let’s see it then. Champ wants to know what you got. And honestly, so do I.”

You nodded, picking up your weapons of choice. Two beautiful custom flintlock pistols. They were Kingsman guns, a gift from your neighbors across the pond. Both were fitted with technological advances that were appropriate for someone of your status. The right pistol shot regular bullets. You could reliably get six shots out before needing to reload, and the actual flint mechanism was automatic, unless you turned it to manual. The left pistol shot specialized bullets. Electric, tracker, exploding, If Statesman made it, you could shoot it. The left pistol could also, in a pinch, be loaded with regular bullets, just as it was right now.

“Target?” You asked sweetly, watching Whiskey pick up his revolvers.

Whiskey pointed down towards the far end of the range. “Those seven dummies in blue.”

You nodded. You took some time lining yourself up on the red X taped to the floor, and when you were ready, you wiggled your stance a tiny bit more, raised your guns, and fired.

Whiskey blinked as the seven shots rang out in such quick succession he didn’t even have time to count them. All of the dummies had perfect bullet holes through them, each and every one shot with deadly accuracy.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Forget what Champ said. That hat was well earned. I ain’t even gonna try.”

You let out a breath, turning to face Whiskey. “Why thank you,” you said, calm as ever on the outside. On the inside, you were giddy with pride.

That giddiness died at lunchtime.

“Agent Mojito.” Champ approached your lunch table, and you looked up from your book. “I saw your shooting results. Heard about ‘em too. It seems we have a new best sharpshooter.”

You nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”

“That’s why I’m not hesitant about sending you on your first mission.”

Shit.

“With all due respect,” you said slowly. “Am I really ready?”

Champ raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you tell me.”

Eventually, you agreed, and Champ handed you the file of information for the mission. Instead of reading your book, you ate your lunch and poured over the papers you’d been given, tucking the file under your arm to report to Champ’s office once you’d finished eating. You had a partner on the job, but the file didn’t mention who. It simply said a senior agent and a new recruit.

You entered Champ’s office after knocking three times, suddenly filled with nerves.

“Come in.”

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologized softly, opening the door. “I got a bit lost.”

Champ smiled. “It’s all good,” he said. “Why don’t you say hello to your partner for this mission.”

You turned to the other side of the room, veins running cold upon seeing the other agent sprawled in an armchair.

Agent Whiskey stood, adjusting his hat and nodding to you with a smirk. “Well this is gonna be interesting.”

Blinking, you softly agreed with him. “Yes. I believe it will be.”

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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flamencodiva · 4 years ago

Text

Who Do You Think You Are? - Enemies to Lovers

Description: Y/N Y/L/N and Dean Winchester seem to bump into each other quite frequently. What happens when these two hunters rub each other the wrong way?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Bingo Square: Free Space

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Drug Abuse.

Border by: @talesmaniac89

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean growled as they pulled up the barn only to see it up in flames and a familiar figure staring at it. Dean glared at the familiar Pontiac and the figure sitting atop the hood staring at the blaze. “She is not going to get away with this.”

“Dean,” Sam rubbed at his forehead, “hunts are fair game last we checked.”

“That is a likely story,” Dean huffed. “Come on, let’s go tell her what’s what!”

Dean parked the Impala and walked over to the Pontiac. He froze as the wind blew and Y/N’s hair flowed with it. Something about the moonlight capturing it made his heart pound in his chest. He liked her, but he couldn’t tell her that, he couldn’t tell her that even though he hated her, there was something that drew him to her. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he cracked his neck and walked over to face her.

“Hey Winchester,” she threw back her head as she took a large chug from the beer bottle she was holding, “Did you bring marshmallows for the roast?”

“Y/L/N,” Dean growled, “you took over our hunt… AGAIN!”

“Wow,” Y/N snorted taking another chug of her beer, “you really think you are hot shit. I wonder when was the last time you got laid because you seem grouchy,” she smiled.

“I like her,” Sam laughed, taking a drink of beer that Y/N gave him. “She’s sassy.”

“Trust me Y/L/N, if I wanted some I could get it,” he licked his lips before giving her a once over. “Yeah… no hunter in their right mind would ever touch you,” Dean sneered as he walked away. “Let’s go, Sam.”

"Wow, someone really needs to get some," Y/N finished her beer before walking to the driver's side of her car. "It's a good thing I can beat you at pool!" She called to him before revving up the engine and driving off.

Dean looked at Sam who was still drinking the beer Y/N had given him. “Do you have to drink that?”

“It was a gift and she’s nice,” Sam shrugged.

“Are you serious?” Dean turned to Sam. “She is annoying! For the past six months, she’s been one-upping us on every hunt Garth has found us. I mean how is she ahead of us on all these hunts?”

“Maybe she’s got someone on the inside?” Sam asked with a shrug. “Or Garth calls her, doesn’t get her then calls us?”

“Well next time we are going to take one hunt away from her,” He grumbled.

One week later…

“Thanks, Garth,” Y/N hung up her phone. Cranking the radio to Black Sabbath’s war pigs, she pressed on the gas pedal and raced to her destination. As she drove in she noticed the familiar Chevy Impala. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her guns filled with silver bullets and made her way inside when she heard voices.

Dean’s gruff voice echoed in the building, “Good thing I got that shot in when I did.”

“What, the kill shot? No, I had the kill shot.” Sam argued.

Y/N walk in as she looked around the corner to see Dean kicking the dead thing’s body so that the kill shot is facing out. She saw the hole on the body

“See that? That’s obviously one of mine.” Dean gave his brother a cocky smile.

“No way, How do you figure?” Sam placed his gun back on his waistband.

“‘Cause it’s actually dead.” Dean kicked the body a few more timed.

Sam scoffed, “My aim is just as good as yours.”

“I mean, your aim’s okay. Serviceable.” Dean put his gun away as he shrugged at Sam. Neither brother noticed Y/N behind them crossing her arms.

“Serviceable?!” Sam huffed, “My aim is not serviceable Dean.”

“See those inconsequential shots to the left arm and shoulder?” Dean pointed to all the bullet wounds on the body, “Those are all you.”

“Ok seriously? Some of those are yours, Dean,” Sam let out a chuckle as he looked at his brother.

“Wow,” Y/N spoke up making the boys point their guns at her as she placed her hands in the air, “It’s just me cowboys,” she laughed. “Hey Sam, is he this cocky all the time?”

“Pretty much,” Sam smiled as he pulled her in for a hug. “How have you been?”

“Sam… don’t feed the troll!” Dean rolled his eyes at the way Sam was friendly with Y/N.

“Hey Sam how about you and I go celebrate how good an aim you got,” she looked over at Dean, “I’m sure you can find a bar skank to keep you busy short stack,” she smiled. “You can ride with me, Sam.”

“He is not going anywhere with you she-beast,” Dean growled.

“Don’t worry, Sam is safe with me short stack!” she called back as she climbed into her Pontiac with Sam.

At a nearby bar…

Dean walked in and glared at the sight he saw. Y/N was hanging off of Sam laughing at something he was saying. Dean didn’t want Sam anywhere near Y/N. Not because he was jealous, no never that. He just didn't want her bad habits to rub off on his brother. He sauntered towards them as Y/N downed a shot of what looked like Jack Daniels.

“So you mean to tell me that he is full of mud and gunk while you guys are hunting a woman in white?” she snorted.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled as he sipped his beer, “I mean, the Impala is possessed by the Woman in White and he just dives into the ravine and gets caked in mud.”

“Well, it seems that your brother isn’t the big bad hunter he thinks he is,” Y/N downed another shot as she grabbed a dart and shot it at the dartboard hitting the bullseye.

“You are a really good shot,” Sam smiled as he drank his beer. “Where did you learn to play?”

“Deadbeat dad,” she scoffed. “Mom was a hunter, she would drop me off with him when they split.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam told her. “I understand how hard it can all be.”

“So, you and Sam are a thing now? I mean Sam could do better,” Dean crossed his arms as he looked at Y/N.

“Well Sam is the cuter, sexier, taller brother,” Y/N smiled as she winked at Sam who blushed. “Hey short stack, how about you and I play a game of darts? Loser has to stay away from the other for a good month?” she smiled wondering if he could up the ante on their bet.

“Loser has to kiss Sam?” Dean asked, causing Sam to give him his best bitch face. “Good thing I never lose, right Sammy?”

“You are so on,” she laughed, “I’m on my…” she looked at her phone as it rang. Dean could make out the familiar strums of Motley Crue’s ‘Shout At The Devil. “You got Y/L/N,” she turned around to answer the phone.

Dean found himself leaning in to try and catch the conversation.

“I don’t care, Nick,” she grumbled, “I’m busy ok I’m working and it’s keeping me busy.” she placed her hand on her hip as she listened to ‘Nick’. “Does it sound like I care that they want me to be there? They terrorized me all my life, Nick. No, I will not be attending, you can bet your ass I will not make an appearance.” she hung up the phone and turned back with a smile.

Dean could tell she was lying about something. He didn’t like liars. In fact, there was something about her that rubbed him the wrong way. She may be hot, but she had secrets.

“Who was that?” Dean took a sip of his beer as she downed another shot.

“No one important,” she shrugged, “now are we going to play or not?”

Dean glared at her as she got bullseye after bullseye. He was losing to her AGAIN! And this severely pissed him off. He was supposed to be suave, cool, and most of all impressive. But with Y/N, she outdid him left and right. There was nothing he could do that would be better than her. He watched as Y/N downed another shot and looked to Dean with a smile.

“What were the terms of that bet again?” she walked up to him and let her fingers dance on his chest before she tapped his nose. She frowned slightly when Dean swatted her hand away. “What is your problem, Winchester?”

“I don’t have to sit here and deal with a terrible shot orphan that no one wants,” Dean growled.

Before Dean knew what had happened, his cheek stung from the hard slap he received from Y/N.

“You can go to hell Winchester, I see you again I will shoot you,” she growled before turning on her heel and storming out of the bar.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam asked. Dean just sighed and went to the bar to get himself a whiskey.

Make it a double.

Three weeks later…

"Garth," Y/N sighed as she looked at her information. "Are there any hunters in the area that can help me with this? I mean there are Vamps left and this was too much for just me."

"I think Sam and Dean are--"

"NO!" she growled. "I want nothing to do with them. I want them far away from this Garth."

"But, Y/N, they can help you if there are--"

"I said no Garth," she sighed. "I'll handle it myself." She hung up the phone before Garth could argue.

Grabbing her sword she called a familiar number.

"You've reached T-bone," the voice said.

Y/N took in a deep shaky breath, "Uncle T?"

"Y/N, what's wrong? Where are you?"

She could hear him grab his keys. Closing her eyes she took another breath, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I um… I just wanted to see how you're doing. I'm...I might be MIA for a bit. I just wanted to thank you … for being there when Dad couldn't." She could feel her tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Y/N, just… just tell me where you are hun,” she could hear him reaching for the door. His breathing sounded heavy, he was most likely rushing to his car. “Tell me where you are and I can help you out. Whatever it is hun, you know I got you. I can call your dad, he loves you Y/N. I know it wasn’t easy but he does.”

"I gotta go, Uncle T., I wanted to… to let you know that you might not hear from me for a while that's all." She sniffled, "just tell Nick that he can focus on his better kids… Okay?"

"Y/N… you know he--"

"I got to go. I'll call you when it's all good." She hung up before he could say anything more.

Climbing into her Pontiac, she drove towards the barn. She knew it was going to be rough. She was prepared to die hunting, just like her mother. Swinging the sword in her hand she kicked the door open and went to town, chopping head after head, until her world went dark.

“She smells delicious,” the voice whispered.

Y/N groaned as she struggled against the bindings. Two Vampires were circling around her like sharks at feeding time. She could feel their fingers grazing her skin. Y/N could feel the bile rise up as they inched closer and sniffed at her skin. One of them ran their tongue along her cheek.

“If you’re going to kill me do it now,” she spat.

“Patience,” one of the vamps said. “I think you would make a fine addition to the nest.”

Y/N watched as the female slit her wrist and the male tried to open her mouth. Her eyes widened at the realization of what was happening. She tried to keep her mouth closed, tried to keep from having to drink the vamp's blood. But it was too much. The male laughed when he successfully opened her mouth. The bitter iron taste reached her taste buds, she tried to spit it out but it was too late. It was in her system. She could feel it pulsing through her veins. Before she could finally release herself from the restraints, the familiar sounds of bodies dropping echoed. Taking a shaky breath she knew she was done for. She was going to get beheaded by the hunters clearing the nest.

“I’ll see you in hell,” Y/N smiled at the vamps as they waited for the hunters to approach.

“You hunters are too late,” the female yelled. “She’s one of us now… she’s going to tear you apart and drink you dry.”

Y/N used her strength to break from her restraints and grab her sword. “Hey bloodsuckers,” she called out to them.

As the male turned around, Y/N swung her sword slicing his head off. The female growled at Y/N and tried to charge at her only to have her head roll-off. Y/N hissed as a bright light shone in her eyes. When the light moved away she could make out the two figures. Once she adjusted, she could recognize Sam and Dean.

“Great,” she muttered. Looking to Sam, she tossed him her motel key before handing him her sword, “before you off me, in my motel room there are some letters that I carry around with me for occasions like this.” She looked up at him avoiding Dean’s gaze. “Just make sure they’re sent out. Burn my body and if anyone shows up for it… don’t tell them how I died just make up some story and that my wishes were to be burned.” She pushed the handle into Sam’s hand. “Thanks for being a good friend Sam… sorry I wasn’t a better one.”

“Y/N, I can’t do this,” Sam shook his head, “We don’t have to do this.”

“Sam, just… please… my uncles need to know… and… the sperm donor who I share DNA with… well, he can read what I wrote and go to hell.” She took his hand and force him to wrap his fingers around the handle as she aligned the blade with her neck. “Just let the sword do the work and go with the momentum.”

“Y/N listen to me, which vamp gave you their blood?” Sam looked to the two Dead vampires on the floor.

“The female... but I don’t see how--”

“There’s a cure,” Sam looked at her. “Our grandfather Samuel, he taught us how to make it. We can cure you. It’s not too late!”

“There is no cure Sam! It doesn’t exist! It’s a myth!” she hissed. “Now fucking gank me before I feed on some innocent bystander!”

Dean grabbed the blood off the female vampire and watched Sam and Y/N.

“Y/N,” Sam put the sword down as he looked at her, “I’m not going to kill you when I can cure you.”

“I’m a worthless hunter who got caught and turned so… can we stop fucking dragging this out, grab the sword like a man and fucking KILL ME SAM!” she grabbed his hand and pressed the sword to her neck. A small drop of blood trickled down her neck, “Fucking do it already!”

“Hey!” Dean pulled Sam away, “ Calm the fuck down sweetheart. No one is going to kill you,”

“What do you care,” Y/N sneered, “pretty sure I’m a worthless hunter in your eyes. So you can get rid of me in one swing. I’m a monster… hunters kill monsters so do your fucking job and kill me!” she growled as she bared her teeth. The sound of Dean’s pulse echoed in her head. Her eyes seemed to zero in on his neck.

“I am doing my job,” Dean glared at her, “I’m saving someone that CAN be saved.”

“Oh Screw--”

Dean didn’t let Y/N finish as he knocked her out and looked to Sam.

“I’ll drive her to the motel you drive her car,” he placed Y/N in the back seat and drove off towards the motel.

It didn’t take long for Sam to mix the ingredients they needed for the cure. Y/N looked at the brothers and gave a low animalistic growl.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she looked at the mixture Sam was handing her, “What is this?”

"Just drink it… please," Sam pleaded.

"If this doesn't work are you going to do what I asked?" She looked at Sam. She could feel Dean staring at her. But she avoided his haze like the plague. “Sam? Promise me you’ll do what I ask if this doesn’t work!”

“Trust me it’s going to work Y/N. We are not losing a damn good hunter… not today.” he glared at Dean, who was standing behind her.

Y/N closed her eyes, she placed her lips on the rim of the glass before drinking down the horrible concoction. It was vile, and it burned going down her throat. It hit her with the force of a wrecking ball, the urge to throw up strong as she dived for the small trash can by the bed. It was awful, she could feel her stomach empty but what came out was blood.

Once she got it all out of her system, she looked to Sam, “am I cured?” she grumbled. “That had to be the most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me besides meeting your brother.” she gave Sam a soft smile not caring that Dean was in the room.

“You aren’t a picnic either sweetheart,” Dean scoffed.

“I’m going to go, Sam,” She offered him a smile, “I need to call my Uncle and let him know everything is…” the sound of Ozzy Osbournes ‘Crazy Train’, came from her phone. “Uncle T… I’m fine it was touch and go for a bit, but things are okay. No, I'm not in any hospital or anything,” she rolled her eyes. “You didn’t need to--”

Dean watched as her back straightened and she clenched her fist.

“Nick,” she said dryly, “It was nothing you needed to worry… I… look asshole! You were nothing but a sperm donor okay. Most of my childhood you were drugged up and out of it so no I don’t have to respect you. So just know that the mistake you made is safe, no one knows anything about our ties so your reputation is good.” she pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up the phone.

“Y/N?” Sam placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

Y/N shrugged his hand off her shoulder and glared at the brothers, “You should have just killed me when I told you to.” she grabbed her things and marched to the door.

“Way to say thanks bitch,” Dean barked.

“What do you care?!” she growled at Dean, “I’m nothing but a terrible shot orphan no one wants, right?”

Dean and Sam watched as she stormed out of the room. Dean winced when she regurgitated the words he last said to her before this hunt. Sam just glared at Dean, his chest heaved with anger. This was the first time in a long time that Dean had seen Sam angry at him. Without a word, Dean walked past Sam just in time to see Y/N turn her car to head towards the local watering hole a few miles west of the motel. Grabbing his keys, he followed in the Impala.

Reaching the bar, Y/N ordered her usual shot of Jack. she was on her seventh shot by the time Dean found her. Dean cleared his throat as he sat by her and ordered his own shot of whiskey. They sat in silence, Y/N downing her shots as Dean nursed his.

"Listen, Y/N. I think we…" Dean began but she cut him off.

“Go away,” she slurred. Downing her latest shot. “I’m going to stay out of your way… you stay out of my way and you can have all the pussy you want without my interference,” she hissed. “Should have just killed me yourself,” she downed her last shot before climbing off the stool and making her way out.

Dean slapped some money on the bar top, paying for both their drinks before following behind her and out of the bar, "Y/N… Y/N wait."

“Fuck, take the god damn hint! You don’t like me I get it… hell right now I loathe you,” she snorted, “I… don’t get me wrong you are an ass… but you are skilled, and your reputation precedes you… but let’s face it… we are never going to get along.” she laughed at the statement. “I… I thought you would be impressed that I was a strong hunter… that I can beat you at your game… but I guess you like easy,” she found the dirt on the ground to be interesting.

"You're right. I am impressed but…"

“Oh please,” she shook her head, “I know my worth… I know I’ll end up dead on my next hunt… the orphan who won’t be missed. The one whose father was forced to care for her in her teens when he had a new family.” stumbling as she walked to her Pontiac, she placed her hands on the hood to balance herself. “Nobody wants me… so… I guess I’ll --”

Dean closed the gap between them as he listened to her self-pity. Licking his lips as he found himself close to her. grabbing her by the shoulders, he caused Y/N to jerk her gaze up. "You're so fucking wrong!" he whispered and bright his lips to hers.

“What was that?” Y/N’s head was swimming. Dean Winchester just planted one on her.

“That was me making you shut up,” he growled as he kissed her again. Breaking the kiss he looked around before pulling her back behind the bar. “You have people who want you Y/N. Your phone was ringing and buzzing with messages from people. A lot from ‘Uncle T’ some from someone you named 'Alien', then you had a 'Malibu Barbie'?” he shook his head, “whoever they are… they care about you. I had no right to say what I said… you are badass Y/N.”

“We do this… it’s only one time…” she pulled his jacket and flannel off him as he pressed her between his body and the wall in the alley. Her lips grazed his stubble jaw. “I don’t do long term… I don’t do commitment.” she pulled his shirt over his head. Her fingers caressing his skin.

“We are outside, sweetheart,” He let out a grunt as her hand slipped into his pants, “unless you’re into exhibitionism?” he gave her a bruising kiss, his fingers finding their way up her shit caressing every inch of her skin.

“I can be very adventurous, Winchester,” she gasped as his hands found their way into her own pants. His fingers slipping through her folds, “Fuck.”

Dean chuckled against her lips as he pushed her pants down to her ankles.Y/N was thankful for having her wide-leg jeans on. It allowed her to remove them from one leg so she could open wide for Dean. Her shirt hiked up to her neck as he pushed the cups of her bra down and suckled on her nipple. Y/N let out a soft moan as his fingers teased her entrance. It had been a very long while since she had sex with anyone.

Dean’s fingers pumped into her, moaning at the feel of her pussy dripping with anticipation. He grunted when her fingers wrapped around his already painfully hard cock, pumping his length. Dean moaned as she worked him, his cock twitching in her hands. He could feel her walls clench around his fingers as he pumped them good and fast. He pressed on her g-spot as his palm lay flat against her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed as the hand bracing his shoulder squeezed. Dean could feel his fingers being squeezed by her clenching walls.

“You going to cum for me Y/N?” he breathed in her ear, “going to get your cum dripping all over my fingers?” he added more pressure to her clit with his palm making her buck into him.

The coil snapped as she pressed her mouth onto his opposite shoulder muffling her scream as she came onto his fingers. Panting, she lifted her head and looked into his eyes, pupils lust blown as he brought his lips to hers kissing her hungrily. Tongue and teeth everywhere in a sloppy kiss.

With a soft chuckle, Dean lifted her up and guided himself into her entrance. He moaned at the feel of her. It was tight and warm and slicked up just enough to let him enter with ease. He could feel her fingers digging into his skin as he pushed in inch by inch. When he bottomed out she ground her hips, giving it the right angle for him to let out a very soft ‘fuck’ in her ear.

There were no words as they found a rhythm, Dean swallowing her moans in a hungry kiss. His hands cupping her ass as he thrust into her. His pace was fast as he could feel her walls clenching around his cock. Her fingers moved from his shoulders to his hair. She tugged on his short strands, driving him wild. His hips sputtered as he felt her cum around him and he filled her up. His lips on hers giving her a bruising kiss emptying inside her before pulling out and putting her on the ground gently.

Breathing heavily, Y/N and Dean got dressed. Dean cleared his throat as they walked towards Y/N’s Pontiac.

“So…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s a one-time thing… it means nothing… like I said earlier, I don’t do commitment,” she licked her lips. “How about this… I scratch your itch… you scratch mine… friends with benefits... No strings attached.”

“Friends?” Dean smiled at her. “Just a second ago you hated my guts.”

“What can I say,” she shrugged, “you were very… persuasive.”

“Ok, Y/L/N… Friends,” he pulled her body to his before giving her a searing kiss, “with benefits.”

“Deal,” she smiled. Turning from him she climbed in her car, “I have to head to California for a bit… I need to calm down my Uncles… they don’t know that I’m a hunter so the call I made to them….”

“I’ll see you around,” Dean reassured her.

With a small wave, she closed the door, turned the ignition and drove off towards the horizon. Dean could only stand there and watch as the taillights disappeared.

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Who Do You Think You Are?

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get-lost-in-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hey guys! It’s finally summer for me so I can write a lot more, hopefully I can get chapters out faster! Enjoy White Rabbit!

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White Rabbit

I wake up to the sound of someone yelling for help. I must’ve fallen asleep on the beach and no one had the decency to put me back in my tent. I thought Sawyer might have, but I guess I was wrong. I quickly scramble to my feet, and glance down the beach to see Jack still asleep. I waste no time pulling my shoes and socks off as well as my outer shirt before running into the water. First I have to get Boone, then worry about the lady.

I swim as fast as I can, my arms and lungs burning. I was never a great swimmer and I’m beginning to wonder why the sudden savior complex. I dive under the water, looking frantically around for Boone. When I can’t, I swim up for air, gasping for a moment before diving back under. Hands pull my waist out of the water, I fight back until I see Jack dive under and pull Boone up with him.

“You okay, just take deep breaths now. Come on, just breathe, just breathe.” Jack says to Boone as he takes deep gasping breaths

“Did you get her?” Boone asks.

“What?”

“There was a woman—I was trying to—did you get her?”

“Jack I’ll get her!” I shout, trying to swim out farther. My heart, lungs, and limbs are screaming at me to go back to the beach.

“Amelia, no, leave her! I’ll go back, get Boone to the shore!”

“Jack!”

“No!!” He screams at me and I flinch. Boone is pushed into my direction as Jack swims farther. Boone and I swim to shore, and I can see Kate and Charlie running to the water to help us.

“Jack?” Kate asks us as we collapse into the sand.

“He’s still out there,” I gasp back. Fuck. That was such a mistake. I pull myself out of the sand as Boone hands me my shirt.

“Thanks for trying Amelia,” our hands brush as I take my shirt. I’m not attracted to Boone, but I can see he’s attracted to me. I didn’t know red-heads were his style. I feel bad for him, trying his hardest to get over Shannon when I know they’ll both die in the end.

“Yeah no problem..” I say as Boone, Kate, and Charlie trudge off. I angrily pull on my shirt, socks, and tie my shoes. Fuck Jack for helping, fuck myself for thinking I could do anything alone.

Back in my tent I rummage around in my bag for a hair tie. I pump my fist in the air when I finally find one and crawl out of my tent to put up my air. I changed out of my wet shirt and pants to shorts and a new shirt, and I can see Sawyer staring when I come out of my tent. Once I've put my hair up I turn to him with my hands on my hips. He holds up his hands in defeat when he notices my defensive stance.

“I might have to change your nickname to legs now, peaches,” he says with a smile.

“Oh I'm sure you'd love to, dimples,” I shoot back.

“That the only nickname you've got for me?”

“Well I hate to say it but I'm not as literate as you,” I saw with a shrug. I don’t hear Shannon walk up, but i do hear her voice behind me.

“Have you got it or what?” I whip around and I can hear Sawyee chuckle to himself.

“You're in my light, sticks,” He replies.

“Lightsticks? What the hell is that supposed to...?”

“Light, comma, sticks. As in those legs of yours,” He says with a cheeky grin and I shake my head.

“Unoriginal today aren’t we?”

“Well what can I say?” Sawyer grins and I shake my head. I can tell Shannon is looking between us, confused.

“Look, while I really love my new nickname, and I think it's really sweet…” Shannon finally says.

“Calm down. I got your damn stuff,” Sawyer cuts in.

“t'll keep off sand fleas?”

“You bet. Even has aloe.”

“How much?” I scoff to myself a little at her words. Shannon just glares at me.

“Your money's no good here.”

“Then what the hell do you want?” Sawyer just smiles at her.

“If you really think I'm going to…” Shannon begins.

“Five grand,” I snort out loud and Shannon gives me a gross look.

“I thought you said my money was no good here.”

“I was negotiating. I can take an IOU. Something tells me you're good... for it.” Shannon just throws the bug dope at Sawyer and storms away. I chuckle to myself as she does.

“You’re out to have everyone on this Island hate you,” I shake my head fondly as I say it.

“Lucky I have you then, peaches.” He grins at me. I just shake my head and walk away.

“People just kind of took what they needed because we were supposed to be rescued, but we weren't,” I hear Hurley say. Oh fuck.

“Even if we divided it up, split the bottles in half it wouldn't be enough for 47 people,” Charlie adds.

“46. There are 46 of us now,” I butt in before Jack can. He looks at me oddly.

Hurley and Charlie make room for me in their circle before Hurley continues, “People find out this is all we have left, they're going to freak out, man.”

“The boar's running low until we can catch another one. What should we tell them?” Charlie says panicked. He glances at me. Charlie and I haven’t really been buddies, he probably heard the news and didn’t trust me.

“I don't know,” Jack says.

“Maybe we can make one of those water finding sticks,” Hurley suggests and I have to suppress a smile.

“What should we do with the stuff we've got?” Charlie asks hurriedly.

“I don't know,” Jack says again. He walks away and Charlie and Hurley follow with the suitcase of water. I walk slowly behind them to catch the conversation.

“We should put it in the tent, yeah?” Charlie suggests.

“MMaybe the dog can find water?” Hurley shoots back.

“Probably better if no one knows how little is left.”

“I mean, dogs can find pot and bombs, so I'm sure they can find water.”

“Don't tell the others we're running low. That way you can ration it. Then you can decide what…”

“I'm not deciding anything!” Jack shouts and I flinch a little

“Why not?” Hurley asks.

“Dude, give Jack a break. He’s tired and looking sick. Leave him alone.” I say loudly enough for them to all hear me. Jack looks surprised I’m sticking up for him.

Charlie and Hurley walk away and I sigh quietly in their direction. I rub my temples and stare critically at Jack. He doesn’t quite meet my eyes, and the look he does have is filled with guilt.

“Amelia…” Jack starts, unable to look me in the eyes.

“Yeah I know Jack, it’s alright,” I say calmly, sticking my hands in my short pockets.

“I meant to come to you sooner but…”

“I understand.”

“How can you be so nice, show so much mercy?”

I sigh and look out towards the ocean before I reply, “Because I would want you, the camp, everyone, to do the same for me,” I look at Jack again, “Even if I know they wouldn't.”

“You're very wise, Amelia,” Jack says in awe.

“I had to grow up fast,” I shrug.

“I'll see you around Amelia.”

“Bye Jack.”

I turn to look at Clarie and Kate talk about hair brushes and zodiac signs. I smile to myself and turn to return to my tent when I hear a voice that makes me sigh, annoyed.

“Hey! Amelia!” It’s Boone.

I turn around to see him jogging up to me, looking in Jack’s direction, “Yeah Boone?”

“Have you talked to Jack about this morning?”

“No, I haven't,” I cross my arms other my chest, and pop my hip to the side.

“Well, I’m going to,” he says before taking off in the direction of Jack sitting in the sand. Oh Boone.

I realize now that White Rabbit is really a Jack-centric episode, meaning I don’t really have a lot to do. I can’t be bothered to go out and help find him dangling off a cliff in the jungle. I know he’s going to find the caves soon, so I need to make up my decision now if I’m going to the caves or not. To be honest I really don’t want to. I don’t want to be caught up with Ethan, nor do I want him to single me out because Ben knows something about me. I don’t want to be abducted or killed, so I think I’ll just stick it out on the beach for now. I realize I’m not making a great adventure for myself, but I am trying to play it safe. I want to last all of the seasons, running into the jungle where there is a very real possibility that I could be killed doesn’t sound fun. I am not protected by plot. Suddenly I hear Walt calling, “Hey! Hey!” and I am on my feet.

I quickly run over to where Claire was being taken to the infirmary tent. I skid to a stop, panting slightly to catch my breath while I assess the situation. Kate comes in behind me.

“What happened?” She says to no one in particular.

“She just dropped,” Charlie replies and I decide to step up, and take Kate’s lines.

“It must be the heat,” I hear myself say, “Is she breathing?” I know Kate is looking at me oddly.

“Yeah, I think,” Micheal replies to me.

“Come on. Let's get her inside,” I say.

“Wake up,” Charlie says gently to Claire and I push him aside as softly as I can.

“Claire? Claire, honey, wake up. Claire? Can you hear me, Claire. Come on,” I sigh to myself, “Wake up. Come on. Come on, please wake up. Come on. Claire, can you hear me? Alright…” I sigh again, in relief, when Claire wakes up. I knew it would happen, at least with Kate. I took a risk, and it paid off.

“Hmm?” Claire huns groggily.

“Hi. It's me. It's.. Amelia.”

“What?” Claire asks.

“You passed out. Just take it easy, okay?” I turn to Charlie, “She needs water.” Charlie leaves to look for the water, but Kate is still standing there. I think she is shocked. I mean I must’ve stolen the words right out of her mouth, and I can bet she doesn’t trust me as much anymore. Girl solidarity is diminishing.

“Don't move, okay?” I say to Claire, “I think you have a fever, but if you keep really still that's okay. It's okay, it's okay.”

“What the... The water's gone. Someone stole it!” Charlie exclaims. Suddenly Kate is pulling me out to the beach and I see Locke and Sayid gathering up as well.

“Where is the doctor?” Locke asks.

“I don't know. No one can find him,” Kate side glances at me, “Thankfully Amelia was around to help a bit, though.”

“Is this the last of the camp's water supply?” Sayid asks Kate and I look at the near empty case.

“Yeah,” I hear Kate answer.

“Keeping it all in one place, foolish.”

“I can go into the jungle, try to find some fresh water.”

“You're not going alone.”

“When the others find out the water's gone it's going to get ugly,” Locke begins, “ And when they find out that someone pinched it, it's going to get uglier. I'll go. Camp needs you three here, you especially Amelia. With the doctor gone you need to be our leader. And besides, I know where to look.” I stay quiet after Locke’s little speech. I didn’t want to be the leader but here I am. Of course I just had to be a doctor. The group dispersed and Locke pats my shoulder encouragingly.

I find myself standing around with Sayid and Kate. I feel weird, and too young. I don’t really remember how old the both of them are, but I know it’s enough that they can look down at me. I’m only 20 and I’m having to be the leader of the Losties until Jack eventually comes back. Soon enough Hurley comes running up to our little group.

“Uh, the Chinese people have water,” He says looking weird. And with that Sayid goes right off to Sun. I follow, worried.

“Where did you get this? Where did you get this?” Sayid begins to yell at Sun, “Where! Did! You!-“

“She doesn't understand you,” Kate butts in.

“She understands me,” Sayid spits back, “Did you steal this water?”

“죄송하지만 무슨 오해가 있는 것 같은데요. 그런 게 아니라…” Sun speaks quickly in Korean.

Suddenly Jin is running up to us, yelling, “떨어져, 이 새끼야. 내 와이프 한 번만 더 만지면 넌 죽어.” I don’t know what they’re saying but I know it’s not good. I also realize that I haven’t been interacting with Sun or Jin at all. I then resolve to tell Sun my secret, and I trust she will tell hers to me. A secret for a secret.

“Just take it easy, alright. We just want to talk, alright?” Kate begins, “This had water in it. Is it yours? Who gave you this?” She speaks calmly as Sayid fumes. Jin then points at Sawyer who's smoking a cigarette. Kate moves to go to him, but Sayid and I stop her.

“I don't see the water,” Sayid says.

“And?” Kate asks.

I decide to speak up again, “You go after him now, he'll give you nothing. But if you wait, a rat will always lead you to it's hole.” I’m quite the line stealer today. Kate nods in agreement and we dispurse to wait it out. We plan that I will confront Sawyer about it, since I know him best. I like the plan because I means I get another chance to talk with Sawyer. I haven’t done that recently.

Finally we can see Sawyer walking to his 'hole' and grabbing a pack of cigarettes. Kate nods at me and I quickly run up to him. At the last minute I decide to tackle him, bad move.

“Well, it's about time,” He chuckles at me.

“For what?” I ask.

“I made this birthday wish four years ago,” Sawyer says, “Although I didn’t picture you in mind when I made it.”

“Where's the water?” I ask and Sawyer flips me over so he's on top.

“That's better,” He says cheekily.

“Get off of me,” I scoff and suddenly Sayid arrives and drags Sawyer off of me.

“Give us the water, now.” Sayid says angrily. I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders protectively. Kate must’ve seen Sawyer and I’d interaction and wanted to protect me from him.

Sawyer shoves Sayid, “Touch me again, huh!” After a moment Kate let’s go of me and begins to look through Sawyer's stuff.

“You really think I stole your damn water?” Sawyer asks angrily.

“We know you gave two bottles to the Koreans,” Sayid answers.

“I don't give nothing to nobody.”

“It’s not here,” Kate announces.

“I traded Mr. Miyagi the last of my water for a fish he caught,” I laugh a little at the nickname, “We worked it out caveman style.”

“You gave him your last two bottles?” Kate asks.

“Water has no value, Freckles. It's gonna rain sooner or later. And hell, I'm an optimist.”

Sawyer gets something out of his suitcase as we begin to walk away. “Hey, you forgot something,” I turn and Sawyer throws me a badge, “Seeing as you're the new sheriff in town. Might as well make it official.” I roll my eyes and toss it back.

“Keep it dimples, I’m just filling in for the Doc.”

“Whatever you say blue-eyes.”

It’s nighttime before anything happens again. I know somewhere out there Jack is smashing the empty coffin of his father with a metal pipe. I also know that right in that area are the caves with the water to save us. I sit around a random fire close to my tent, and Sawyer is sitting there with me.

“So,” He begins, “Fillin’ in for El Jacko while he’s away huh?”

“Yeah, why?” I glance over at him across the fire.

“Nothin’ just wondering why you jumped me is all.”

“Well I thought that would be the best tactic,” I shrug at him.

“Awe well here I was thinking you wanted to have some fun.”

I roll my eyes and laugh a little, “In your dreams James.”

“Did you know that I didn’t have the water?” Sawyer suddenly asks very seriously.

Before I can answer Boone is discovered to be the thief of the water. Great timing Charlie. I glance at Sawyer before we both get up to see the commotion.

“Where'd he hide it?” Michael asks as we arrive.

“I don't know. This wanker had three bottles on him. Why'd you do it, pretty boy, eh?” Charlie spits angrily at Boone.

“It was just sitting in,” Boone begins, “it was just sitting in the tent, and Jack just took off.”

“Claire could've died!” Charlie shouts.

“I tried to give her some sooner, but it just got out of hand. No one would have understood.”

Suddenly Kate walks up and I can feel Sawyer move away from me, figures. “What is going on?” She asks.

“Someone had to take responsibility for it. It would have never lasted!” Boone shouts.

“Oh shut up!” Charlie mumbles. Then he pushes Boone and Sayid steps in to stop a fight. Then, Jack shows up.

“Leave him alone!” Jack shouts as he exits the jungle, ah yes. Live together, die alone time, “It's been six days and we're all still waiting. Waiting for someone to come. But what if they don't? We have to stop waiting. We need to start figuring things out. A woman died this morning just going for a swim and he tried to save her, and now you're about to crucify him? We can't do this. Every man for himself is not going to work. It's time to start organizing. We need to figure out how we're going to survive here. Now, I found water. Fresh water, up in the valley. I'll take a group in at first light. If you don't wanna come then find another way to contribute. Last week most of us were strangers, but we're all here now. And god knows how long we're going to be here. But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone.”

After Jack’s speech, I look up at Sawyer and take a step back when I see him staring at me. I then glance around and everyone seems to be standing around feeling stupid. Then Charlie and Hurley start getting water for people, and our group disburses. But instead of walking away with me, Sawyer walks up to Boone. I quickly follow him just in case.

“So, how does it feel?” Sawyer asks Boone.

“How does what feel?” Boone answers.

“Taking my place at the top of everyone's most hated list. Sucks, don't it?” Then he walks away. Boone looks at me like a kicked puppy and I can't help but feel a bit of pity towards him. To be honest I never really understood Boone at this part, but who am I to judge. I like Sawyer after all. I turn to leave but Boone grabs my wrist.

“Amelia,” Boone begins to say, but I yank my arm out of his grasp.

“Not now Boone,” I say calmly.

“But-”

“Night Boone,” I call as I walk away. Sawyer is already at our fire. I catch a bit of Kate and Jack’s ending conversion.

“My father died. In Sydney,” Jack says.

“I'm sorry,” Kate replies.

“Yeah. I'm sorry, too.”

I don't acknowledge I heard them, if it were me I would want that to be somewhat private. I mean, I don't have a father either, but Jack is the leader. I walk up to Sawyer and sit in the same spot I was before. After a few moments, he speaks up.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“You know which one, blue eyes.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I knew you didn't steal the water.” I look over the fire and see a smug smile tugging at Sawyer’s lips. I laugh a bit, “What’s so funny?”

“Why is it you're always around me?” Sawyer asks.

“You’re the least annoying out of all of them,” I reply coolly.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you don't have a savior complex or want to run or anything that Jack or Kate have that’s a major flaw.”

“Sweetheart, I've got plenty o’ flaws.”

“I know, but I also know that you can change.”

“Is this some future stuff again?”

“Unfortunately, yes James.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Sawyer says with a small chuckle.

“Like what?”

“Like you know me.”

“But I do know you.”

“Whatever you say blue eyes,” then he gets up and dusts himself off, “I’m goin’ to bed.” And with that, he leaves me alone at the fire.

“Night..” I reply quietly, knowing he can't hear me. I decide that the fire isn't going to be a major hazard if I leave it burning so I get up for bed as well. Most people had already, and I realize I'm probably the last. I take one more look at the glittering black ocean under the moonlight and then duck into my tent to try and get some rest.

LOST

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#lost #abc lost #lost fanfiction #james “sawyer” ford #james ford #sawyer ford #james “sawyer” ford x oc #james ford x oc #sawyer ford x oc #lost tv series

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inkedollady · 4 years ago

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PART FOUR

A flashback of their past together ran ramped in her brain, Opie had just come home from a run with the club and Ginger had been home with his kids. She was cleaning the house as the door had opened and the emotions were pure happiness to see his face. It was always a fear that when the guys went on jobs that they wouldn’t return, a fear that Ginger never had happen to her as an Ol’ lady but now she could feel the flash back disappearing and the reality setting in as she noticed the emptiness of their old home. She parked her bike and stepped off going to the door and finding the spare key under the rock. She opened the door and went inside. She walked around the kitchen area and smiled lightly but felt the tears creeping in. She could feel his presence in the house, but she could not physically see him. It was the worse feeling. She wanted to reach out grab him, hold him but all she was left with was memories of what once was. The house looked the same as if she never left. Their photos were the only thing missing, Lyla must have been the worlds worse housekeeper because the house was filthy. Gin did not have time to get angry about that at this point, she was not there to judge Lyla. She was there to say goodbye in her own odd way. She walked down the hall to the bedroom they had once shared and sat down on his side of the bed, a bed he had recently shared with his new wife but before that he had shared it with Ginger. She closed her eyes and grabbed his pillow holding it in her arms and crying. She heard a voice from the other side of the bed, “Gin, baby girl, you got to get up, you can’t lay here and cry. I’m always with you.” It was his voice; she was hearing him. The tears flooded down her cheeks. She cried out, “You said you’d never leave, I just wanted to say goodbye.” He spoke back to her mentally, “Gin, I didn’t leave you, I’m with you always, my heart was with you all this time. Take care of Jax. He’s going to need a strong friend.” His voice had trailed off into the distance. She was left with silence and tears rolling down her face. She knew what the voice had said was true, he was always with her, in some way. He was somehow a part of her subconscious for so long. It was why when she tried to move on in Chicago, she compared everyone to him. She dried her tears and stood up from the bed, placing the pillow back where it had been before. She walked to the dresser opened it finding their pictures tucked under his underwear. She took one of the pictures out, it was a photo from their wedding. She smiled and kissed the frame, placing it back in the drawer and closing it. She walked down the hall passed so many areas with memories that they had once shared. Back out the door and onto her bike she started it, glancing back at the house once more for just a moment she could see him propped in the doorway smiling back at her. A tear fell down her cheek once again. She whispered, “I love you Harry.”

She hadn’t gone back to the clubhouse that night. She needed time to think, get herself together before being around the club again. Jax was out, he had texted her phone at least a dozen times. She wanted to pickup but she knew that the moment she did the emotions would flood back in. She didn’t want to feel the emotions for she knew the next day was full of them. His body was home, they were having a celeberation of life for him at the club house and she knew that it would likely be a long day. She didn’t know how she could look at him in the casket, easy she would avoid it. It was a fool proof plan, she’d play the role of the ol’ ladies of other club members, she’d walk around asking if anyone needed anything and make sure that everyone else was taken care of. She fell asleep with a bottle of jack in her hand. Gin was a recovering alcoholic, she’d kicked that habit a while ago but losing the love of her life had led her back to the bottle.

The next morning the hangover was real but she knew that if she didn’t show up soon, Jackson Teller would likely send out a calvary to look for her. Something that she really didn’t want to deal with. She’d go pay her respects and then she wasn’t sure what she would do. The goal was to get through the day without killing, harming, or breaking down. She threw on a pair of blue jeans that were skin tight, not the black dress type, instead she grabbed a kutt that Opie had her made for an anniversary and placed it on her shoulders over a tank top. It was similar to the mens Kutt’s with the patches on the sides and on the back. Her front patch read Ginger underneath it said Ol’ lady and the other side said “Behind every man is a strong woman.” The back was the original reaper for SAMCRO. She hadn’t worn it much since they split if at all. She wanted to feel him close to her though. She walked out to her bike and threw her helmet on before driving toward the clubhouse.

Bikes were are already lining up from other charters to pay their respects. The clubhouse was full of familiar faces and unfamiliar faces alike. Ginger knew the death of a club member brought in all kinds of people. This wasn’t the first funeral she’d attended for a member and it likely wouldn’t be the last. She walked into the clubhouse seeing all the croweaters running around like chickens with their heads cut off. She shook her head. She noticed the door to the chapel was closed, the body hadn’t arrived there yet she knew that it was scheduled for delivery before the 3 oclock service time that Jax had text her. That door being closed meant either the guys were in church or Jax had locked himself inside and was likely mourning the death of his best friend. Usually, non-patches were not allowed in the chapel, Ginger had broken that rule several times over the year. Today was no different, she walked over sliding the door open and slipping inside. It was as she suspected, Jax was sitting at the head of the table all alone, Opie’s cut on the table Infront of him, tears running down his cheek. His blonde hair tucked behind his ear and a hand gently brushing across his cheek. Ginger did not speak a word, she just walked over to his side placing a hand on his shoulder. She needed to be there for him, she had to be. It is what Opie would have wanted. The three of them had been through literal hell since their high school days, often they had been referred to as the three musketeers.

Jax looked up from the kutt to his friend, trying to hide his emotions, “You okay?” He spoke with care in his voice, it was not his usual charmer tone but a concerned friend.

She looked down her hand still placed on his shoulder. “We both know I am not okay, but I have to be. Neither of us can bring him back. We have to move forward.” That realization was a hard one for her. She knew that it was true, but she did not want to move on. She wanted to bring him back, she wanted it to be a cruel joke so bad that she would literally do anything.

Jax’s tone was rough. He could smell the alcohol on her. “You’ve been drinking? Do I need to remind you that you are sober?” He looked at her eyes. “That’s a bruise? Someone hurt you?” He went from the friend that was mourning to the overprotective best friend that he had always been.

She shook her head; she was not ready to discuss her problems. They were not problems in charming anyways, it was her own shit back home and right now it was not about her. “I fell Jaxson. Lyla bringing the kids to say goodbye?” She asked.

Jax nodded. “Ma went to pick her up. She will not go back there. She is staying at mom’s place. The kids are at Mary’s. Speaking of Gemma’s calling.” He answered, “Ma you’re on speaker, Gins in here with me.”

Gemma spoke in an annoyed tone, “She’s gone. Took money out of my safe and hit the road.”

Ginger could not help but let out a very high pitched almost demented laugh. “Are you kidding me? Her husband’s funeral is today and she stole money and bailed. He sure knew how to pick em.” She rolled her eyes. It was no secret, she hated Lyla, but she had tried to be there for the girl just a day earlier. Now she regretted it, she should have kicked her teeth down her throat just because she could.

#jax teller #jackson teller #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy roleplay #opie winston #samcro

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