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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years ago

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Found - Rudy, Mason, and Clyde

The end! Of the arc! Whooo this has been fun! Thanks to all who read. (i'm not down with them as oc's but this arc is over.)

TW: whumper as caretaker, stressed whumper/caretaker, distant whumper/caretaker, drugging tw, implied changing of clothes, implied bathing,

[Masterlist] [Stalker Arc Tag]

Mason was sitting at his desk, vigorously typing an email to the support of every social media platform he could. They weren’t giving him anything, even though he knew that they had the information. They must - companies are always doing shit like that. Tracking. Monitoring. They knew who this creep was and they were protecting them.

At this point, he was ready to get his lawyer involved if he got yet another generic-reply email.

Clyde was curled under his desk. He hadn’t done that in years, not since he was new and very attached to his new Master. Mason trained it out of him a while ago, but something about the familiar place was safe for him right now. So, Mason allowed it.

His phone rang and he reached for it automatically. There had been a lot of calls over the last couple days, and he was nearly fed up with them.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mason Driver?”

He took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It is, who is speaking?”

“Hi this is Amber from the Lakefield Pet Shelter? We have your pet here-”

Mason stood quickly, accidentally kicking Clyde in the process. “Ah, fuck, sorry bud. Is he okay? Who brought him in? Is he hurt? Where is Lakefield I want to come pick him up-”

“Sir, sir, please slow down. He’s okay, he’s got a sprained ankle and is a little roughed up in general, but he’s okay. You can come pick him up at any time, someone from the local department already came and spoke to him.”

A strange sense of anger swelled in him for a moment that someone questioned his pet without him there, but he shoved it away quickly. Other things to focus on, other things he had to do. The woman was still talking but Mason was distracted looking for his keys.

“Can I pick him up tonight? Now?”

There was a small pause. “Yes, Mr. Driver, you can come get him tonight.” After a couple other bits of information, Mason left the house to go get his pet.

Clyde crawled out from under the desk, rubbing his sore hand, a bit confused but hopeful he was understanding half the conversation correctly.

The first thing Mason felt when he saw Rudy hobble out to meet him was relief. Relief that he was back, he was safe, that he was here. Then it was anger. Anger and resentment at the brace around the boy’s ankle, the wraps around his wrists and neck, the bandaids on his face. He had to force his face to remain happy and neutral when he saw the bruise on Rudy’s temple.

“Master!” he cried, nearly falling into the kneeling man’s arms. Mason held him close, arms wrapped around.

“Rudy, thank fucking god you’re okay. I was so worried, oh my god. When I find out who took you I’m gonna-”

“Y-you, you know him, Master,” came Rudy’s muffled voice and Mason pulled him away, held tight by his shoulders.

“What?! Who, who the hell would do that? Someone that I know?”

“It was C-Casey, Master.”

Mason’s face grew grave, clenching his teeth. He should have fucking known. Of course, of fucking course Casey would pull some shit like this. Obviously Mason had called out of work, didn’t care what was going on back at the office during the few days Rudy was gone.

Rudy whimpered and Mason released his right grip. “Oh, I’m sorry Sweetheart. God, that fucking snake. I’m going to ruin his whole goddamn life, just wait and see if I don’t completely blacklist him. He’ll never fucking work with pets again.”

“Sir,” hinted one of the workers, reminding Mason of the other people in the lobby. He didn’t care.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

The worker nodded and gestured for them to come up to the counter. “He’s ready to go, just need to go over some paperwork and at home care for the other injuries.”

Rudy pressed himself into Mason side as the man’s brow furrowed. “Other injuries? What happened?”

“He’s a little bit dehydrated, but that should go away in a day or two. The bandages around his wrists and neck are to keep him at scratching at the healing skin, so you’ll need to keep those and on use this ointment that’s listed here. Same for the welts on his back. His ankle is sprained but not too badly, so follow up with your regular provider for that. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

Mason swallowed and signed the forms without another word, not trusting himself to say something he’d regret. Besides, it wasn’t their fault.

On the way out, he was already calling his lawyer to get every medical expense taken out of Casey - money or blood.

Clyde was at the door, bouncing at his heels as the key turned. He had been looking out the window, saw when they pulled up. Saw when Rudy got out of the car! He was limping but he was there. He was home.

The older pet nearly knocked him over as they came through the door. Mason had to grab him by the back of his collar to drag him off.

“Clyde! Back! You know better what the hell,” Mason muttered, setting him down on the ground a foot or two away. Clyde looked up at him, clearly wanting to go back to Rudy. Mason rubbed his temples, too tired and frustrated and betrayed to deal with this.

“Room.”

Both boys whimpered, Rudy tugging on the hem of Mason’s shirt to silently plead him not to. “Now, Clyde. He’s fine. Just go upstairs so you’re not underfoot.”

Clyde gave him such wide, hurt, miserable eyes that Mason nearly took it all back. He sighed, but held firm. He said what he said and Clyde needed to obey that. With another glance back at his friend. Clyde crept up the stairs. Rudy whined after him over Mason's shoulder as the man picked him up and carried him to the living room to set him on the couch.

The boy whimpered as Mason walked away, but quieted after a shush.

Mason stood in the kitchen, holding onto the counter and stared at the tile backsplash. Why was this so hard? Rudy was back, he was going to be fine, the police found Casey and his lawyer said his case was good over the phone. He shouldn’t feel so tense, so tight-wound and anxious. The boy was right out there - why couldn’t Mason accept it?

He rubbed a hand across his short stubble and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, along with a drink for Rudy. He just needed time, he guessed. Needed to sleep, and probably eat something, and he’d calm down. Meandering back into the living room, he texted his boss that he was taking some personal time off.

Rudy was curled up on against the armrest, tears bright in his eyes. Mason regretted snapping at him, at both of them, but it would pass. They probably wouldn’t even remember tomorrow.

“Hey bud, drink up. How are you feeling, are you hurting?” He asked as he opened the lid for him.

The boy grabbed the bottle and took a sip, nodding slowly. “I, I’m okay.” His lip was quivering, breath shallow and shaky.

“I missed you,” he confessed as he broke, reaching up for Mason who immediately sat down with him. “I m-missed you s-so much, and Clyde, and h-home, I wanted to get away. I was so scared and c-confused and he was mean and hurt me and-”

Mason shushed him gently, pulling him close and petting his hair. “I know, I know Sweetheart. I’m so sorry that happened - I promise, it will never happen again.”

“He wrote on m-my, my scan-y thing,” Rudy said, itching at the side of his shirt. “And, and he took my collar and made me wear a muzzle that cut my mouth and I didn’t eat because- because I just couldn’t and-”

Mason shushed him again, and this time took his drink so he could really lay the boy down. Poor thing was spiraling, clearly over-stressed and exhausted too. “Shh, Rudy, you need to relax. You’re okay.”

“-he, he made me so confused, Master,” Rudy continued, seemingly unable to stop confessing everything that had happened. “I-I know I belonged to you, because, because of m-my collar and my chip but he made me wear his collar and I started to get confused and forget and uh, hng, I, I think I might have called him Master once and I’m sorry! He wasn’t always bad and one time he pet my hair and I tried to struggle but I didn’t that time and I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay woah bud you need to slow down. You’re okay, you don’t have to talk about all this right now. I know, I know.” A pause as Mason thought. “Do I need to get something to calm you down?”

“I think I was bad?” Rudy started again, rubbing his eyes and hiccuping. He wasn’t listening to what Mason was saying, which was a kind of answer in itself. He was just more convinced of his choice as when he stood, the boy kept muttering confessions to himself. He’d have to re-visit some training in the next couple days, he reconned, just to correct some thoughts that asshole had implanted.

Rudy took the pill unusually well, words petering out until he was quiet. Mason rubbed his head just the way he knew the boy loved, listening to the unconscious hums of contentment.

“Lets get you to bed early tonight, hm? We’ll deal with all this in the morning.”

He seemed much heavier, now that he was out of it. Mason still got him upstairs, sat him on the bathroom counter to clean him up a little. It also gave him a better chance to see Rudy’s injuries without the boy wiggling and squirming everywhere.

It made his blood boil.

He had seen worse, he had definitely seen worse just walking down the street but that didn’t fucking matter. Rudy was his, and he had not given permission for someone to treat his pet like this. The muzzle had clearly been too tight, chafing and rubbing the sides of his face raw. Same for the collar, and the scratch marks from where Rudy had been clearly trying to get it off. Bruises on his hands and knees, what seemed like a bit of blood in his hair.

Mason cleaned him up the best he could, until the only proof left visible were the bandages and bandaids. He changed those, too, to some colorful ones he had for the boys. Rudy would like those better when he was awake.

After changing him into his pajamas, Mason carried him to his own bedroom and put him on the bed. He sighed and went to go get Clyde.

Clyde was in his room, standing in his pajamas right by the door. The boy had obviously been crying, gently cradling his bruised hand. Mason picked it up carefully, examining it.

“Shit, did I do that, Bugs?” he said, convicted. Clyde didn’t really answer him, eyes glancing from him to the door repeatedly. Mason sighed with a tired smile.

“Yeah, go see him.”

In a flash the boy was gone, down the hall to be with his friend. Mason turned the light off in their room before he went to join them.

Finally, back together. As they should be.

tag: @whumpingredroses @as-a-matter-of-whump @albino-whumpee @whumpeesblog @suspicious-whumping-egg

#whump #pet whump #stalker arc: rudy and clyde #whumper as caretaker #bad caretaker #cold caretaker #drugging tw

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instasiswetrust · 4 years ago

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“Mindflayer ... from Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Harrington’s voice sounds uniquely fragile. Like thin ice and crystal glass, one wayward push and he’d shatter.

He hates his stage name. He hates it so fucking much. It aches and hurts like an old scar.

“Yep.” He says, popping the p and flashing his favorite client a smile that he doesn’t mean at all. “Used to love to play, but when I moved here ... never found a party. It’s a fun stage name, even if it doesn’t really fit me.”

He’s too loose-lipped. Half of that was a secret he was supposed to take to the grave. It’s too nerdy an admittance. It makes his elbow and ribs ache, like phantom breaks.

“No.” Harrington whispers, settling into the softness of the stylized bed. “No, it suits you.”

Billy pauses. Raises an eyebrow.

“You have that kind of ... enchanting presence. And - and I’ve never played dungeons and dragons, but my brother does. I know enough.” And there’s an awkward laugh. Nervous. Honest.

Harrington lays upon the altar-bed with his limbs spread, ready for the restraints. Ready for the 80’s gothic fantasy wet dreams that the room embodies so well. There’s a smile on his face and a shine to his eyes. “So flay my mind. Give me that dying fantasy that the corebooks preach about.”

“And what would that be, dollface?” Billy finds his voice steady and stable, even if his soul’s lost its way.

Steve Harrington swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs in a way that speaks of sorrow and loneliness.

“Love.” He whispers, and Billy knows this is the horizon before him. “I want you to make me believe that I’m loved. Just this once.”

---

Alcohol and heartache are things that should never be mixed. Steve knows this, and yet he refuses to follow the one rule he insisted on Dustin learning.

It's the only reason he's able to request something like that. To lower his mask enough to show the fragility underneath the marble exterior.

A ring. That's what the picture Will sent Dustin had shown. A ring on Jonathan’s finger, and Nancy down on one knee. Engagement. Steve hadn't been able to stay long enough to know the details.

So when Mindflayer calls him Princess, when he presses soft kisses to his lips and thrusts with agonizing slowness. Well, he’s not surprised when the first sob punches out of his chest in a rush.

Fragile. Broken. Ugly. Heart-wrenching.

He wants to cover his mouth but his hands are still bound and there's only so much biting down on his lip can do.

Because he's ruining this. Fuck. He's ruining this and now Mind’s pretty face is twisting up in worry, and this is not at all what Steve wanted.

Not enough. Never enough.

---

He didn’t bank on making Harrington cry.

Half-way stuck - should he pull out? Press in? He knows the safe word. He’s fully able to use it — it’s not like he broke out the gags and restraints. This is mock love, not pain.

“Hey,” he whispers and pulls the man closer. Leaning in to kiss at the spaces he can reach, through the tears and twisting. “Don’t cry, princess. I’ve got you.”

The words he wishes he was given, he gives to his client. The tenderness in every motion, soft intimacy lain carefully like a veil over that pretty face. This is what love looks and feels like, right? He’s not sure, but this is what he hopes it’s like.

“It’s okay, baby.” If it was like this, he thinks, then —

“I got you.”

---

The thing is, Steve doesn't want to stop.

Sure, he wants to cover his face, wants to press at his eyes until the tears stop falling, wants to quiet the sobs falling unbidden from pink kissed lips.

But stopping is not something he wants.

Not even if that means he has to let this man, this person he barely knows but who has learned his body more intimately than any lover before, watch the shattered edges that hide under all the marble.

“S...S-Sorry, ” There’s a wryness to the curl of his lips, and everything looks blurry behind the sheen of tears that covers his eyes. “Just. P-Please.”

He's not sure what he is asking for anymore, though.

Please make me forget. Please don't stop. Please take away the pain.

Please, love me.

---

“Of course, Princess.” Billy pulls a smile onto his face and smooths the worry over. One hand slips from Harrington’s famous waist to cup his jaw. Thumb away some of those tears. Kiss away the rest.

All the love he never got, he gives away. From the empty garden of his chest, he digs for a fire he’s never known. Things he’s only seen in moves, heard in cafes, felt between the distances of picket fences and broken glass — this is what he comes back with. False diamonds to offer to an angel who hasn’t a clue either.

“Anything you want,” Billy whispers as he presses closer, pace steady still, but changed. Holding Steve in full now. The thrusts are shallow, but his arms are full and their hearts are only an inch apart.

Does it count? Is it right? What would an unearthly monster know of human love? What would an angel? He’s thinking too hard on this.

“Forever and always.”

---

But all things must come to an end.

Curled up on his side, trying to glue all the shattered pieces of himself back together while quiet tears slide down his cheeks, Steve wonders why did he ever think this was a good idea.

Because asking for fake love — So real. Too real. — doesn't change the fact that Jonathan and Nancy are engaged. It doesn't erase the fact that the next time he sees them he's gonna have to pretend like he's just happy for them, like the glass shards embedded in his heart do not exist and his chest doesn't ache with each soft smile they give each other.

At which point did they stop being able to see past his facades, he wonders.

Pathetic, Not enough. Never enough, are you Stevie?

With a shaky sigh, he wipes the remaining tears off his face and sits up. This is not Mind's fault in the slightest, not his fault that Steve is a pathetic mess who needs to buy fake love to try and get over his exes. So he pulls himself back together as best as he can and offers a weak smile.

"You know, you could make a really good acting career if you ever decided to leave this place."

---

That punches a laugh out of him before he can think better of it. Almost everyone who dances at the Auris fit that bill, even if half of them would do better in certain genres.

“Maybe.” Billy says, already knowing that his rap sheet has a stain and he’ll never be free of that. This is as close to stardom as he’ll get. “This has way more security than a bunch of Hollywood maybes, though.”

Harrington still hasn’t recovered. The walls don’t carry sound but they shake in the way that means someone violent is entertaining. Idly, he wonders who, and are they as wild as his night just was?

“Hope I see you around, dollface.” He itches to light up a cigarette. There’s no smoking allowed in the building though. He’d have to wander upwards to the roof for that and that’s too far right now.

“Tonight was fun.”

---

"Fun." He mutters, sliding off the bed onto shaky legs to search for his clothes. A wet chuckle leaves his lips, sounding a little wry. "Yeah, I guess we could call it that."

There's no need to say anything else after all. Not like he can say anything else. Hell, he can't even look Mind in the face right now, not if he wants his tentative defenses to hold up until he gets back home.

Home. Hah, if you could even call that sky loft a home.

So he gets dressed and offers a weak smile and a goodbye. Makes sure to tip higher than he usually would before leaving the building.

Resolves to try out dating again and visit the Auris less.

Too bad it's not that easy to get Mindflayer out of his mind.

#drabbles #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #Model au

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that-little-zebunny · 4 years ago

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Skin to Skin (First Date)

Pairing: Loki x Avenger!Reader

Warning: Angst, little Gorey-ish details, Fluff

WC: 2,151

Summary: You're new to the team and end up messing it up with the God of mischief on your first day in. Knowing his reputation you're up for a fun time in the compound.

Note: First of all thank you so much guys for the warm acceptance you gave on our 1st part T....T y'all made my heart so so happy. I hope you'll enjoy this part and I'd love to know how you think. Its a bit long so yay enjoy.

2nd day of our wonderful HBC's Week of Love for the lovely @the-th-horniest-book-club 🥰

You know what's the fun part of fighting the bad? It's that it doesn't choose a great time. It pops up as randomly as it can. So here you are on your second day trying to go around and meet people, when you got a message to suit up.

Small details are that you and your team are going to keep an eye on one of hydras abandoned bases because Friday had detected some activity there.

What you didn't know is the team you speak of is just you, the Falcon, Natasha and Loki. Yup, how fun will it be? You and the person that doesn't like you in one deadly work. You won't be surprised if somehow between the fighting you'll be stabbed by him. You shook your head to remove the thoughts running in it. You really should stop watching suspense shows. You sighed.

After almost three hours in the air you all finally made it in the location. You scratched your head when you saw that the area is surrounded by a lot of trees.

"Looks like we're up for a fun hide and seek game if there's really people here now." Nat said as she fixed all the weapons secured on her belt. Sam agreed. He activated three of his cute little drones to help out with securing the area for treats.

"We should go. All these small talks will not vanish our enemies." Loki said walking past the three of you. You pouted.

"I think that's mostly because of me. Sorry guys." You said as you finished fixing your knives on your belt and grabbing your metal staff. It's your main weapon because it keeps you from getting near anyone when it's not needed.

"No worries cookies, he's like that to everyone. He didn't really have a choice in being here. He's banished here to help." Sam said using the silly nickname they all choose to give you after you delivered tons of cookies to them.

You look at Loki's retreating back sadly.

You're able to get inside the rusty building without encountering anyone.

"This is a bit creepy. How did Friday detect anything here? There's no one in about 10 kilometers." Sam said as he checked the tech in his arm.

"Maybe it's a ghost?" You joked which earned you a strange look from them. "What? I watch movies." You rolled your eyes at them and continued going to another part of the building to check. It looks like you're in a laboratory slash surgery room. That gave you chills. You tried to not imagine how many bodies were cut and gutted in here.

"You have a very unique mind." Someone said which made you squeak. You turned around swinging your staff towards the voice but was halted by a sting hand. Loki held the end of your staff smirking at you.

"Crap…" you whispered. You didn't do anything again didn't you? "I-I'm sorry." You bit your lips as you relaxed, removing your staff from his hold.

"For someone that works with emotions you do suck at it." He said, smirking at you.

You scratched your nape as you stared up at his face, his very very beautiful face. Ugh!

"I know. Its been a challenge controlling my own. I was so used at controlling others." You said remembering your childhood. How you tried to mold your always bickering parents to play nice when you're around and to act as if they loved you. You know they hated it and they hated you but what can you say you were ten and scared. But they didn't care. All they know is you're an anomaly and that they rather not be around you. That's why as soon as your grandma offered they toosed you away like a hot potato.

You shook your head as your most dreaded memory came up. You frowned and turned to look at Loki again.

"Was that you!?" You asked. You're gritting your teeth as you feel the rage consume you. He just stared down at you smirking wickedly. You boinked away the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. "We're even now." You said gripping your staff.

"Yes we are." He proudly said as he went around checking if he could find anything useful and you did the same.

It really was a lab and they've experimented on people trying to make a brain dead person have functions again. That made your stomach turn especially when you saw the reports of how the patients reacted to that. Some were like dummies and some became vicious. And so many more that you end up closing the files you're reading and you just grabbed them.all to bring them back with you.

"Find anything else?" You asked Loki but he didn't answer so you went to look what he's doing in the room he went in. You found him staring at a cradle.

"There's a body here." He said. That alerted you. Especially when you saw him touch the cradle to open it using his power.

"Nooo Loki don't!" You shouted as the cover of it opened up releasing some kind of gas. Knowing the few things you've read if your guess is correct this is gonna be bad.

You ran to him to grab his arm to pull him away but he didnt move so when you saw the sharp claw like hands coming out the gas you didn't think much and just went in between Loki and the thing.

You gasped in pain as you felt the slicing on your back.

"Good norns! Y/N! You dumb, dumb mortal!" He shouted as he caught you in his arms when your legs gave out. He looked behind you and flicked his hands green mist went to take away the life from the girl from the cradle. You heard its body make noise as it fell down.

Still in Loki's embrace you tried to breathe deep but it ended up just you gasping painfully. The cuts must have been deeper than you thought.

"L-Loki…" you pleaded with him as you felt your breathing start getting shallow and you feel like you're drowning. You must have blood on your lungs by now. You tried to swallow the sobs that tried to get out of your lips and you just stared up at his face. He really have a nice face. It's unfair.

You must have lost your mind because when he caught you staring you smiled up at him which in return got you another frown.

"Stop admiring me. I know I look better than the normal midgard male population. You really must be dumb, why did you jump infront of me. I'm a God I won't be hurt by a mere scratch." He said as he helped you to lay down on the floor as he called out to Nat and Sam on his coms. He turned you on your side to check your injury and you heard him take in a breath.

"Is it bad?" You asked thinking of the worse based on his face.

"Don't get your brain all rilled up, Cookies. It'll be alright." You giggled when you heard him call you on your new nickname.

"S-so I'm cookies to y-you now too." You coughed but still smiling.

"Oh you need to shuush." He said but you can hear the smile in his tone. So your stupidity got you on his goodside.

"How can I s-shuush. This might be my last time to talk. What i-if some parasite is now in me and I'll start walking and biting people." You caughed again as you felt something soothing on your back.

"You need to change what you watch Y/N. That's not healthy anymore." He said, shaking his head. Your back is starting to feel nice now and your head is like it's floating. You giggled again as you touched his face. Even in your groggy brain you felt his emotions. Scared, amused and adoration. Is that all for you? You smiled at him again as your eyes were about to close.

"You should date me Loki." You said. His eyes went wide as he steadied you to pick you up.

"That's the soothing magic talking." He said as he started to walk.

You're about to walk past the table where you put down the files you found when you remember how important they are.

"Wait! Wait! Lemme grab those." You pointed to the tall stocks of folders.

He walked near it and you grabbed them and hugged them on your chest like your life depends on it.

You feel proud of yourself getting them or being carried by Loki. You're not sure which anymore and before he even finds your team you fell asleep.

You woke up in what you guessed as the med bay. You tried to get up and looked around to find no one. You brushed your hair with your hand as you tried to stand but got dizzy. You tried to grip the bed frame for support but you're too slow so you just let yourself fall. You're about to kiss the floor when two strong hands caught you and relief and annoyance flooded your brain.

"You must enjoy being in my arms." He teased as he helped you back on the bed.

"You got nice arms." You joked as you went back on your bed. You took a deep breath and seriously asked him "how did the rest of the mission go?"

"Well, the Widow was able to find some scavengers that tried to loot the structure they came back there before we left and they must have been the ones who triggered Friday's system. The monstrous thing that attacked you is dead officially and we didn't find another of it but we did find a mass grave behind the building." He explained as he sat down on the side of your bed.

You thanked him and relaxed knowing there's no more of that thing around.

"Do you like steak or do you prefer the simple ones?" Loki suddenly asked. You looked at him confused.

"What for?" You asked.

"You have offered me to date you. Have you forgotten?" He said, smirking at you. You felt your cheeks heat up. Crap you did. Mid thinking about tobe a zombie parasite walker time. You looked at him waiting for him to say he's joking but nothing . He just raised one gorgeous eyebrow as he waited.

"You're serious?" You covered your face with one hand as you tried to let what he's saying sink in.

"Very serious, you've felt my darkest emotions I've seen your darkest memories don't you think we're past the getting to know part Sam keep on babbling about?" He said as he slowly touched your elbow with a finger and you felt his sincerity and adoration. Your brain feels like it's about to explode. This majestic person really wants to go out with you. Omg!!!

You slowly nodded and he smiled.

"So stake or not?" He asked again.

"I like steak." You answered back. He smiled and left. Leaving you with so many emotions that you never felt before as your own. Joy, giddiness and something you can't name.

A week after you're out of being stuck on a medical bed you and Loki went to that date. You still can't believe it's happening. He even did all the preparations and stuff. He brought you to a gorgeous restaurant with beautiful music and the tastiest stake you ever had. It was so much fun. He's very funny in his own way. You're both enjoying a walk before going back to the compound when you felt Loki grab your gloved hand. You look up at him.

"What's wrong?" You asked. He just smiled and kissed your hand.

"I'm just very glad I gave myself a chance to know you more and not let what happened to us on our first meeting get to me. You're a very fascinating and beautiful lady Y/N. Thank you for being with me today." He said. You smiled warmly at him as you took off your gloves. You stashed them in the pocket of your coat and brought your hands up to his face but didn't completely touch him.

"May I?" You asked and you saw his face softened. You told him that you will never touch him without his permission.

"Yes…" he answered as he held both your hands and brought them close to his face. He closed his eyes and sighed at the feel of your skin. Feeling that strange feelings again that you can't name you're not sure if it's yours or Loki's emotion. You stepped closer to him and tiptoed to reach his waiting lips. You can't wait to understand that strange feeling but for now you're gonna enjoy how good it feels.

Tag list

Skin to skin: @delightfulheartdream @victias @kaogasm @marvelgirl7 @alexakeyloveloki @newdaynewyearnewlife @multifandomlife22

Tom Hiddleston and Characters: @jewels2876 @jobean12-blog @CurlyRed2020

The ones with stikes, I cant tag you guys i dunno why T.T

#hbc week of love #the th horniest book club #the th hbc #loki x reader fan fic #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader drabble #loki x reader imagine #marvel loki #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson fluff #loki x reader #zephirahnyxwrites

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random-ass-fanboy · 4 years ago

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My Snape playlist:

Here are 40 songs that remind me of Snape, if anyone is interested :)

Feel free to leave song recommendations for this playlist in the comments!

TW/ depressing lyrics and mentions of suicidal ideation.

Paralyzed- NF

"Where are my feelings? I no longer feel things, I know I should. I'm paralyzed. Where is the real me? I'm lost and it kills me inside, I'm paralyzed."

My Immortal- Evanescence

"You used to captivate me, by your resonating light. Now, I'm bound by the life you left behind. Your face it haunts, my once pleasant dreams. Your voice it chased away, all the sanity in me."

Horrible Kids- Set It Off

"Picture this he was just a kid, not knowing where to begin. He wore all the wrong clothes, followed all the wrong trends, persecuted for the things he did."

Lifeboat- Heathers the Musical

"Everyone's pushing! Everyone's fighting Storms are approaching, there's nowhere to hide! If I say the wrong thing, or I wear the wrong outfit, they'll throw me right over the side!"

Panic Room- Au/Ra

"The silence is so loud. The lights spark and flicker, with monsters much bigger, than I can control now. Welcome to the panic room, where all your darkest fears are gonna come for you."

Michael in the Bathroom- Be More Chill

"I am hiding, but he's out there, just ignoring all our history. Memories get erased, and I'll get replaced, with a newer cooler version of me."

Worthless- eli.

"I'm always so alone, even when surrounded, by people that I know. I'm always so astounded, by my ability to ruin everything. Losing friends and starting fires, everyone thinks I'm a liar"

Let Me Down Slowly- Alec Benjamin

"Don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste. I once was a man with dignity and grace. Now, I'm slipping through the cracks of your cold embrace. So please, please.."

Waving Through a Window- Dear Evan Hansen

"We start with stars in our eyes. We start believing that we belong. But every sun doesn't rise. And no one tells you where you went wrong"

Broken Again- eli.

"No one knows what it's like putting up a fight, for your life every time, now I'm losing sight. Wish that I had a way to make me feel alive. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

Match in the Rain- Alec Benjamin

"Yeah, I can taste it, it's the end, this love's impossible to save. Though you embrace it, I can't face it, so I look the other way. There's trouble in your eyes, but I pretend that we're okay. I wish that we could compromise, but there's just nothin' left to say."

Snail- Cavetown

"I was just born like this. Wish that I could change it. Four peculiar limbs and a head that doesn't fit. Wish that I was still a kid."

Dissappear- eli.

"Carrying the burdens of the world up on my shoulders. Looking for the answers, maybe I'll know once I'm older. Need some time to recollect myself, please don't forget me. When I disappear next week, I hope you can forgive me."

Teenagers- My Chemial Romance

"The boys and girls in the clique, the awful names that they stick. You're never gonna fit in much, kid. But if you're troubled and hurt, what you got under your shirt, will make them pay for the things that they did."

Words Fail- Dear Evan Hansen

"No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than these broken parts. Pretend I'm something other than this mess that I am! 'Cause then I don't have to look at it, and no one gets to look at it! No, no one can really see!"

Untitled- Mxmtoon

"I tend to forget, that I shouldn't fret. People come and then they go. At this point I should know."

I'll Sleep When I'm Dead- Set it Off

"I'm stuck self-torturing, my meds are failing me, internal clock in smithereens. Can't fix this. I'm hopeless. My eyes are stapled open wide, as I lay down on my side. I am bouncing off these walls."

Outrunning Karma- Alec Benjamin

"He's never gonna make it, all the poor people he's forsaken, karma, is always gonna chase him for his lies. It's just a game of waiting from the church steeple down to Satan karma. There's really no escape until he dies."

One Song Glory- RENT

"Find, one song, one last refrain. Glory. From the pretty boy front man, who wasted opportunity. One song, he had the world at his feet. Glory. In the eyes of a young girl, a young girl."

Good For You- Dear Evan Hansen

"All I need is some time to think! But the boat is about to sink. Can't erase what I wrote in ink. Tell me how could you change the story?

All the words that I can't take back, like a train coming off the track. 'Cause the rails and my bones all crack. I've got to find a way to stop it, stop it! Just let me off!"

Teen Idle- MARINA

"Adolescence didn't make sense. A little loss of innocence. The ugliness of being a fool. Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?"

Dark Paradise- Lana Del Rey

"And there's no remedy for memory. Your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me, that everything is fine. But I wish I was dead!"

Trying- Cavetown

"I'm trying to tear the wool from your eyes. But a part of me wants to let you be. 'Cause then you wouldn't see what I've become. I'm trying to shout, but no sound comes out. It's like we're in a dream state. But I should've woken up, woken up by now."

Wake Me Up When September Ends- Green Day

"Here comes the rain again, falling from the stars. Drenched in my pain again, becoming who we are."

21 Guns- Green Day

"When you're at the end of the road, and you lost all sense of control. And your thoughts have taken their toll. When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul."

Give Me Novacaine- Green Day

"Take away the sensation inside. Bitter sweet migraine in my head. It's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind. I can't take this feeling anymore."

iRobot- Jon Bellion

"I am a robot, thoughtless and empty. Don't know who sent me, don't know who made me. Electric robot, everything's gray now. Numb to the pain now, I knew what love was."

Another One Of Those Days- Cavetown

"Passed that kid from chemistry, who made fun of my name. He didn't look very happy. I guess we all turn out the same."

Boulevard of Broken Dreams- Green Day

"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. 'Til then I walk alone."

We Don't Have To Dance- Andy Black

"You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy, this is hell, this is hell! You're looking and whispering, you think I'm someone else! This is hell, yes, I am in hell!

Ribcage- Andy Black

"Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Got no heart to break, like it that way. Nothing in the cage of my ribcage! Emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

The Run and Go- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't take them on my own, my own. Oh, I'm not the one you know, you know. I have killed a man and all I know, is I am on the run and go."

Fall Away- Twenty One Pilots

"I disguise, and I will lie, and I will take my precious time. As the days spent away, as I stand in line, and I die as I wait, as I wait on my crime. And I'll try to delay what you make of my life, but I don't want your way, I want mine. I'm dying and trying, but believe me I'm fine. But I'm lying, I'm so very far from fine!

Trapdoor- Twenty One Pilots

"He wakes up early today, throws on a mask that will alter his face. Nobody knows his real name, but now he just uses one he saw on a grave. And he pretends he's okay, but you should see, oh. Him in bed late at night, he's petrified."

Sad Song- Christina Perri

"I wish I wasn’t always wrong, I wish it wasn’t always my fault. The finger that you’re pointing has knocked me on my knees. And all you need to know is… I'm so sorry, It’s not like me. It’s maturity that I’m lacking."

Escapism- Steven Universe

"I guess I have to face, that in this awful place, I shouldn't show a trace of doubt. But pulled against the grain. I feel a little pain, that I would rather do without."

Semi-Automatic- Twenty One Pilots

"Night falls with gravity, the earth turns from sanity, taking my only friend I know, he leaves a lot, his name is "Hope". I'm never what I like, I'm double-sided, and I just can't hide, I kind of like it when I make you cry, 'cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside."

Screen- Twenty One Pilots

"I can't see past my own nose, I'm seeing everything in slo-mo. Look out below crashing down to the ground just like a vertical locomotive. That's a train, am I painting the picture that's in my brain? A train from the sky, locomotive, my motives are insane!"

March To The Sea- Twenty One Pilots

"Then the wages of war will start, inside my head with my counterpart. And the emotionless marchers will chant the phrase, 'This line's the only way.' Then I start down the sand, my eyes are focused on the end of land. But again the voice inside my head, says, 'follow me instead.'"

Migraine- Twenty One Pilots

"Freeze frame, please let me paint a mental picture portrait. Something you won't forget, it's all about my forehead, and how it is a door that hold's back contents, that makes Pandora's box contents look non-violent!"

#pro snape #snape fandom #severus snape #pro severus snape

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lucastheunlucky · 5 years ago

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Run; Miles & Luke - Part 2

In Continuation to Part 1

Set up:

Miles had got Lucas off to sleep in the spare room, making sure all the doors and windows were locked and alarmed. Not so much to keep Luke in (although he was half-worried the poor guy might freak out and run away again) but to keep anyone who might be watching them out. One benefit of having a German Shepherd was that they were always on alert, so even if Miles didn’t catch whoever might be there, Duke would.

He hardly slept, almost too frantic to drift off. He did eventually though, drifting in and out of wakefulness a few times, barely on the edge of dreaming before he finally gave up and got up to make breakfast. He looked in on Luke a few times just to make sure he was still there. Poor kid must’ve been exhausted. By the time he finally heard the door to the spare room open, it was midday. “Morning.” Miles looked at him, still almost unable to believe he was real. “How’d you sleep?”

Luke had woken and for a moment didn't realize where he was, the bed unfamiliar, and the wall he was facing not filled with the usual sunshine. When he saw Miles in his kitchen and himself standing only a few feet from him, every single cell in his body screamed to fucking run. Bolt as fast as he could, even barefoot, and with Duke staring at him. The familiarness of the question was so strange, and when was the last time he even had someone say that to him? He rubbed his heart as stress spread under the surface.

"Morning? Is it? I haven't slept that hard in a long time," he admitted, walking forward, with a gentle pat on Duke's head in passing, before he sat down in a chair and laid his head down on the table with folded arms. "Did you sleep? You look like you've been spinning things in your head for hours."

“Sort of not,” Miles answered. “It’s a little after twelve.” His brother was there. His brother… was right there. It was impossible not to repeat that over and over in his head for however long it took him to believe it. “I was in and out. I’m kind of fighting the feeling like I’m gonna wake up any minute now and you’ll be gone.” He looked at Luke with sincerity. “I missed you, bro. We all did. We thought you were--” He was going to say ‘dead’ but he couldn’t get the word out. “You know.”

"Dead--" Luke said the word easily and sighed lightly, really not wanting to draw from that pool of memories already. It was so easy to shove it all away, just let it be this forgetful spot in his mind, but it never was. Continuously, he's reminded in the mirror or shower with scars, not ones he's earned but given. "Alright--" he said with faint determination and tugged his shirt collar to pull it over his head. He quickly palmed his face to hopefully not show how much stress this was on him. "I need to say this quickly because it fucks with me. So-- they gunned me down-- shot me twice here first." Showing the starburst scars in his chest and lower rib cage that didn't get seen nearly as much. "Stupid bullets got stuck in there but didn't take me down. Missed my heart, not surprising since it was from a damn car and it was moving. Ah, but then, I look over and bam--"

His breath shakes, and his eyes glance up, holding his fingers to his head. "Just like that, man, maybe four seconds. Four seconds and I was fucking gone."

Miles hated that word coming from Lucas’ lips, but he nodded sternly. He was mad, not at Luke, but this whole damn situation. Their entire family had been grieving and who knew what Luke had gone through? When he said the word torture, had he meant it literally? Miles could immediately tell he was different. He was darker, more haunted. It was as if Lucas had been living under a black cloud. He clenched his jaw as Luke went through his scars. His stomach was turning itself inside out. “Jesus. Sick bastards.” He was going to make some coffee, but maybe tea was a better idea to calm Luke down, or to calm himself down. “Do you know anything about them?”

Luke knew Miles would be mad, and he actually expected to get yelled at because it was his fault for bringing him this pain. A small, broken part of him wanted Miles to just go off on him, hit him, or tell Luke he deserved it. If he had just not wandered off when he was a teen or if he had just gone to that school in Texas as his dad wanted, none of this would have happened. He closed his eyes, pulled his shirt on, and started pacing. He didn't know how to explain this without sounding crazy, and little whispers were filling his mind now that he's scratched that memory. "Miles, they put me in the ground. They thought I was dead, but I woke up there. That guy-- " his voice wavered, and he worried his lip. "He said he saved me--" A beaten, faintly insane laugh spilled out, "can you believe that brother? Saved me. That's what I know about him. He hurts me, kills me, and makes sure I come back. Heh-- heh -- so we can do it again. How do I fight that?" He finished, sounding resigned.

“They fucking what?!” The idea of his baby brother having to dig his way out of a shallow grave… Miles wanted to throw up. This sounded like some serious fucking gaslighting. If it’d been pure hate, some hapless hunter just trying to kill wolves because they were wolves, that would be one thing, but this guy was sadistic. “He didn’t save you. You saved you, okay? You’re the best, strongest person I know. I’ve missed you like hell.” He handed Luke a cup of tea, leading him to the couch so they could sit. “What does he look like? Does he have an accent? Any distinguishing features?”

Lucas accepted the warm drink and walked with Miles over to the couch. Sipping it carefully, it was honestly delicious and soothing. 'Thanks," What did he look like? Lucas' head pounded. Various memories showed the silhouette of the man but never his entire face. There were so many blurry edges like his mind refused to put it together. Remembering seemed to come with bringing up something awful in him. "He always hides his face," he managed, "but he has a beard, scruffy with a mustache, gray and white hair. His teeth are so white and straight." He sets the cup down, afraid he might break it as he squirms and pulls his legs up and tries to remember. "Speaks like he's always talking through a smile until he's mad." The edges of his sight darken at that thought, and he feels himself drifting, his breathing slows and his gaze lands in the distance space across the room. "He talks southern-- wears a cowboy hat, usually white, taller than us."

Miles just sat down. Duke walked in circles for a bit and then lay down near Luke’s feet. “Guess he missed you,” Miles chuckled softly. Duke was trained in Search and Rescue so part of that required sometimes laying down near victims who were in distress or needed warmth. But Miles preferred to think of it as the former. “That’s good. Those are good details.” He put an arm around Luke’s shoulder. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but we’re gonna do it together this time, okay? You're not alone any more. I promise.”

"Okay, Miles," Lucas let that promise settle into him properly and believed it. "I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. He called me yesterday before I ran here. He gave mom my number, I lied to her on the phone when she called me. She cried--" he swallowed thickly, resting his head on Miles' reassuring arm. "I felt terrible. He knew Regan's name and a few others who helped me. I just don't know who I'm going to bring trouble too. The looming threat is hard to manage, I don't know what he will act on. I’ve been trying to pull things that relate to him, try to make sense of it all. But I’m not good at remembering anymore. Do you think we could set a trap?"

“The bastard got in touch with mom?” Now Miles really was angry. He had planned to contact the rest of the family to talk about Lucas once the nameless Hunter was out of the picture, but the fact this sicko was toying with her grief made him want to scream. “Lucas, this guy is going to hurt people no matter what you do. For some reason, he’s just the kind of person who enjoys hurting others. And they say we’re the monsters.” He shook his head. No amount of tea could calm him down, but he continued to drink it just so he had something to do with his hands. “I wanna find out what he wants. I have a lead on another hunter in town. I’ll see if he knows a guy who fits that description.”

Lucas watched with a hazy expression at the anger darting over his brother's face. There was a part of him that still wished Miles would just yell at him, hoping it would help him process it better, but he also wasn't sure he could handle seeing his big brother in such a state either. Miles was always his rock; this person he could fall into without any guilt and a calm atmosphere. Luke finally releasing all these secrets, all this burden he's carried since he crawled out of that shallow grave was worrisome for him. He didn't want it all to go and ruin his brother as it did him. Lucas wasn't that happy, partying, laughing boy anymore, please don’t change from this. "I know he is--" he said about the hunter. Knowing this man killed humans just as easily, he just didn’t have proof. "Okay-- I actually have someone checking my, well-- gravesite for me," Luke said with a shiver, "I wasn't alone in there. Maybe you will see the picture better than me once we get everything. Regan is looking over an old case file too. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize I needed help. But, I’m feeling more hopeful than I have."

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Miles said, firm but soft. He set his mug down, wrapping his arms around Luke’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. He just held him there for a few moments, not wanting to let him go. There were days - many of them - when he never thought he’d have Lucas in his arms again. It was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like forever before Miles finally let go. “Now, since your sleepy ass missed breakfast, how ‘bout lunch?”

Lucas really couldn't remember Miles having this big of wind span and would have to find out how in the world did he get so big. The hug was welcome, and Lucas would probably find a way to get more in the coming days. Miles will likely have to keep telling Luke not to apologize and not to blame himself for years after this mess. Luke had hope. It felt good to have it back, even just a little bit. It didn't change Lucas was still terrified and had no idea what was going to happen when that surprise got to him. He wasn't sure he could handle watching Miles kill them, and he wasn't sure how he would react, even hearing his voice again. But, he had a few people keeping an eye on him now, and Luke felt unworthy in that broken way. He was also accepting it slowly. Hopefully, time could break those isolating habits he's created for himself. Maybe one day, in the future, he'd smile like he used too.

"Heyyyy- I was tired," he pouted when Miles let go and hugged Duke instead. Both were looking at Miles with the same puppy eyes. "Duke, you want some of my famous cooking. Miles has no idea what he's in for. Think we can make him cry over food? Come on--"

#x: miles #x: run

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easnuppa · 5 years ago

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The outlawˋs way

Chapter 6, part 2

Never in a million years would he guessed that a woman would mourn Daryl. He was always so shy around the lady’s, he usually stuck to tending to the horses while the other boys were enjoying the whores at the brothel.

He silently walked over to the grave and stopped next to the woman. He stood there silently, he didn’t think the woman had noticed him, but the woman inhaled sharply.

"If you were here for him, you’re too late."

Pat noticed how her voice was flat but still soft, he had not seen her face, but she was young.

"Yeah, I heard".

The woman slowly got up to her feet.

"I’m sorry for your loss Mr,"

She turned towards him and he stared right into a pair of tear filled sparkling grey eyes, they looked like diamonds.

Pat nodded, who was she to Daryl?

"I should probably say the same to you as well, Miss Lissybeth, right?"

The woman nodded, he noticed how her eyes flickered down to his hips eying his pistols and then her orbs went back to staring into his, lifting her chin a bit, he had to give the young woman credit for the strength and courage that she radiated.

"Mr Dixon, I presume," she said, and it was the first time he heard a young proper lady speak that name without fear latched to her voice.

Pat nodded, he reached out his hand.

"Patrick, Pat for short."

Lissybeth grabbed his hand in a firm and surprisingly strong grip and shook his hand.

"You’re his pa? You two look very much alike," Pat only nodded, the sudden lump in his throat made it difficult to talk.

Lissy brushed away a tear and stared at the ground.

"I don’t care what they say about him, sir," she sniffled silently.

"Your son, I mean, he was a good man. Kind, compassionate. He helped me out on the ranch."

She lifted her gaze and looked into his eyes again.

"I was all alone out here when he came, he stayed and helped me with the horses, he could have taken them, but he didn’t," her voice became firmer with each word and Pat nodded.

"Thank ya miss, I appreciate yer kind words."

Pat turned his head and let his gaze land on the main house where the marshal and the sheriff were now mounting their horses and riding out. The sun was about to set.

"You are welcome to eat supper with us."

Pat knew he shouldn’t, that he should return to town, gather the boys and ride out, but something stopped him, he was curious about Daryls last days here and the little lady in front of him. He cleared his voice.

"If it’s not any trouble miss."

Lissybeth nodded, he watched as she gave one more glance at the shallow grave before she turned and walked up to the house.

As they walked into the house, they were met by two pair of eyes, one woman and a man.

"Jack, Mary Agnes, this is Patrick Dixon, Daryls pa."

Pat saw the man was about to grab for his guns, but he lifted his hands in the air.

"I aunt here to cause any trouble, I heard about my sons passin’ and wanted to pay my last respect."

This made the man sit back and relax a bit, although his eyes where still on guard. The other woman in the house gave him a small smile.

"Please have a seat Mr. Dixon."

He shrugged off his jacket and sat down at the end of the table, he grabbed his Stetson and placed it on his knee, he brushed his brown bangs back on his head, he lifted his gaze and met the young man sitting across from him, he reckoned the man had to be around Daryls age.

Plates were being placed in front of them, and slices of beef, cheese and bread was placed on the table.

"Are the rest of your gang lurking around the ranch Mr Dixon."

The man finally asked, and Pat shook his head.

"No need to worry, I came here alone, two of my brothers men are back in town, we heard rumours that ya’ll had arrested Daryl and was gonna hang him, a lot of rumours have been going around, my brother was tired of reaching for straws, so he sent me and two men to check it out, we aunt here to stir things up, I’m just here to bring back what belongs to me."

The women had now joined them at the table, Lissy slammed her fist down at the table, making all eyes land on her.

"I’m not gonna let you take him; his body stays here on my ranch."

Pat nodded and touched her small hand for a second.

"I wouldn’t dream of it miss, but I would like his belongings."

The woman’s eyes squinted, and she scowled at him.

"You can’t take his horse," the woman was stubborn, and she was testing his patience.

"His saddlebags?" He asked, looking just as stubbornly into her eyes, he watched as the woman suddenly stood up, she swayed a little, he got concerned and was about to get up from his chair, he suddenly noticed how pale she looked but she put her hands up, making it clear she didn’t want any help.

She marched into the next room and returned with a pair of brown leather saddlebags, she dropped them in his lap.

"If there is anything in there that means something to you, then be my guest," she leaned on hand on the table as she was staring at him, he looked into the saddlebags, it was Daryls things alright, the kid never carried much, but these saddlebags weren’t the ones he wanted.

"Ya sure he didn’t have another pair of saddlebags?" Lissybeth shook her head.

"He was barely alive when he rode into my ranch, these bags where the only ones strapped to his saddle."

Pat nodded and handed her back the bags, the woman reached out to take them but crashed into the floor before they had the chance to react.

"Oh my goodness," the brown haired woman gasped, and all of them got up.

Pat was closest, he leaned over her listened to her breath, he looked up at the two other people.

"She fainted," he said. "Where can I put ˋer?"

He lifted the limp body up into his arms, she hardly weighed more than a feather, the other woman pointed to the next room.

"You can lay her down in there."

Pat nodded and carried her into the bedroom, he placed her gently onto the bed, she pulled off her tightly knotted boots and pulled the covers over her before he walked out and sat back down at the table, the other woman sighed.

"It’s been a rough week for her, loosing Daryl and being left alone out here again."

Pat cocked his brow and looked quizzically at the woman; the man explained.

"It’s only a year since her family was slayed down here on the ranch while she was running errands for her pa, she was the one to find them."

He saw the man studying him.

"Your gang haven’t been around here before?"

Pat lifted his hands in the air again.

"I swear this is the first time I have been around these parts of the mountain, my brother ain’t all that interested in small towns, or small ranches. We keep to the bigger mining towns, or the kettle ranches down south."

The man nodded, accepting his answer. Pat grabbed some beef and bread and started stuffing his mouth full, after a couple of mouthfuls he looked up at the two others who had joined him and were now eating their own food.

"I noticed the young miss was crying over my sons grave, why?"

The man chewed and swallowed.

"They got close the short period of time he lived out here on the ranch."

Pat nodded; he was yet again surprised that his boy had the guts to seduce a beautiful woman as miss Lissybeth.

"He told me on his deathbed that if he was a free man, he would have married her," the man said lowly and Pat stared at him with wide eyes, the boy had been serious about her, for some weird reason this fact made him proud.

He always knew Daryl was different from the rest of them.

Pat nodded, the lump back in his throat almost choking him again, he cleared his throat.

"They were as good as married then, she’s a Dixon too then as far as I care, ya’ll don’t have to worry any of the guys, Will won’t cause any trouble on this ranch, Dixons looks out for their own," Jack scowled at him.

"We aren’t worried, and we are already doin’ fine on our own."

Pat recognized a threat even if it was served to him at a nice dinner table. He grabbed his Stetson and placed it on the top of his head.

"Alright, thanks for the food, I’ll leave ya good folks be and go back into town."

He was about to stand up when the woman grabbed her husband’s hand and spoke up.

"oh no Mr Dixon, it’s too dangerous for you to ride back to town in the dark, the hills are steep and there is icy spots under the snow, you must spend the night, in the barn that is."

The man glared at his wife and this made Pat smirk a little.

"Thank ya ma’am, for ya kind offer, I’ll see my way out myself, good night to ya both," he walked out and over to the barn, he found an empty box full of hay, blankets and a pillow was placed on a roll of hay, he grabbed it and rolled it out, the barn was warm enough, he laid down and closed his eyes, he could see why Daryl had wanted to settle down here.

It was the perfect place for the boy. A picture of the pale blond woman popped up in his mind, and her fainting in front of them worried him.

@of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic

#twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x oc #slowburn #angst #hurt/comfort #western au #daryl dixon/ female oc #fluff/smut

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themoonandotherslikeit · 6 years ago

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The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 11

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Eleven, All This Time

Ava

Another shot echoed through the air. "Shots fired! We have an officer down!"

I laid on my back, the late afternoon sky was turning to evening. My head pounded as I watched a cloud float languidly above me. "Winchester! Are you okay?" Lacey was over me. She popped open the buttons from my shirt to examine my wound, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

"You're wearing your vest."

I sat up slowly. "I think I have a serious bruise." I smiled wryly. "But yeah, I think I'm okay." I glanced at the perp. He was face down in the concrete. "We are going to have a lot of paperwork."

"Yup. It's gonna be a late one," she said helping me up.

Back at the station Lacey started on our paperwork, and I went to the bathroom. I unsnapped my bulletproof vest and looked at the massive black and purple bruise on my ribs.

I thought about how the boys and I could've used one in our time hunting. I winced touching the edge of the bruise. In my mind I could see Sam and Deans scars on their chests and arms. The cuts and bullet wounds that they took care of themselves.

Dean and I always talked about how Sam should date a doctor so they could finally stop having to stitch up each other. It didn't matter anymore. We weren't hunting. Sometimes I wondered if Sam missed it. If he missed it like I missed being a detective, and like how I honestly missed hunting.

I pulled my shirt back down and grabbed Lacey and I both coffees. "Sam is going to be pissed when he sees the bruise. He told me to be safe."

"You were safe."

"We have a child," I said with a huff, sitting down. "I'm not supposed to be in armed chases."

"So you and Sam... you're taking the plunge?" Lacey asked handing me my paperwork.

"The plunge is a little dramatic," I said clicking my pen. "But yeah. We are trying. It's only been a few weeks, but it's been nice."

I lied and told Lacey that Dean was a soldier. I told her that he died in Afghanistan. It was the only explanation I had for what we'd all been through, for why I couldn't talk about him. She asked if Sam served too, her brother had and she said that Sam had the look. Like he'd been through the shit.

"I think it's good that you two are trying. You should be happy."

"Thanks Lace." I signed my name at the end of the first form. "I really should call him. He's going to be worried."

"Hey, go ahead and go home. I'll finish up here and help you tomorrow. You've got a tall dark and handsome man to see." She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"I wouldn't call him dark." I winked at her. "But, yeah, thanks. I'd like to go home and see him and Nel."

I grabbed my purse and jacket. I was going home to see my family. We were a family, and things were finally good. I was finally feeling happy again.

Dean

I gasped, feeling shallow air enter my lungs for the first time in what felt like a life time. I didn't realize that there wasn't air in Hell. What fueled the fire, then?

I couldn't see shit, so wherever I ended up was dark. I was laying on my back and when I reached out and around there were walls on all side of me. I reached into my pocket for my phone or anything to provide some light. My body felt stiff, and my were fingers sore. I pulled out my zippo lighter and flicked it a few times before it came to life.

I was in a wooden coffin. "Shit." I coughed. My mouth and throat was so dry I could barely speak. I closed my eyes. What the hell am I going to do?

I reached down and pulled my knife out of my boot, barely able to move that way. I jimmied the edge of the coffin and held my breath, and pushed the lid out of the way. The dirt loosened around the coffin, pouring in around me.

Keep it together Dean. You've been through worse.

We had practiced this, when I was a kid. Dad would shove me in the box and close the lid.

"You have to be prepared for anything, Son. Remember there will be a lot to work through. Don't breathe in the dirt or you'll suffocate."

I had nightmares for years about being buried alive. Guess I owed him a whiskey after all.

I dug upwards, knocking dirt away with my knife, my fingers gripping at the clots of dirt and rocks. The ground was cold, and my skin stung. The darkness felt endless, and I hoped whoever buried me was lazy about it and didn't stick me more than six feet under.

My chest pounded. I'd always been claustrophobic, but this was my literal nightmare. All I could see was Ava. If I was back I had to see her, but there was still a chance that I was still in Hell. That this was just a new form of torture.

I wanted to stop then, to let the darkness take me, but like always, she came to me.

Dean you can do this. Break through and come home to me. I've been waiting.

In my mind she is still pregnant, just like I left her. Even if I was still in Hell, I had to try. I owed her that much.

I pushed up further with all of my strength, thrusting the knife upward. A beam of light came into the hole I was in. My hand broke through the soil, and I could feel the sun on my skin.

My hands felt dried grass as I pulled myself up, sucking in fresh air. I gasped a few times, laying on my back. I stared at the sky just feeling everything. For the first time in so long I wasn’t feeling any pain.

I stood up slowly and looked around me to find any indicator of where I was. In the circle around my grave marker a dozen trees laid on their side, as if they bent right over, all in a perfect circle.

It was weird, but so was rising from the grave so I didn't feel the need to stick around. I moved slowly to the road, needing a phone. Needing a drink. Anything. Any sign that this was all real.

I pushed forward, my skin itching from being underground. I slid off my flannel and tied it around my waist. I wanted to spit, to get the dirt out of my mouth, but there was no moisture inside of me. How long have I been gone?

A pit grew in my stomach. If I'd been gone as long as I thought, Ava would be old. My daughter would be grown up. Dad and Bobby would be... I shook of the thought. If this was a mind game it was a damn good one.

I spotted a connivence store ahead of me, and I picked up the pace. It was old and run down, and there were no cars around it. I knocked a few times. "Hello?" I croaked. Even if there was someone there they wouldn't be able to hear me.

I rolled my eyes and wrapped my flannel around my arm as I sent my elbow through the glass on the front door. I let myself in and immediately went to the cooler. I pulled out a bottle of water and sucked it down.

I'd never felt anything better than the cold water running down my dry, cracked throat. It tasted almost sweet. If water tasted that good I couldn't even imagine having a beer again.

I had to pull back so I could breathe. My lungs opening. Fresh air. It was all surreal. I walked around the store, still suckling my bottle. There was a stand near the back wall with newspapers stacked. I picked one up to check the date. April 12th. My heart sunk. It wasn't as long as I thought, but if this was right... I'd been gone for four months. My daughter and my wife were out there somewhere. They had to be.

I made my way to the bathroom. I needed to splash my face. I needed some clarity. I turned on the water, taking it in my hands. It felt good on my raw skin. My muscles tight from being stagnant for four months.

I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned. I was ripped apart the night that I was drug to hell, but yet when I lifted my shirt there were no scars. I looked under my left sleeve and then my right. My breath hitched in my throat. My right shoulder held a pink scar. Still fresh. It was barley healed. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was a handprint.

"Fuck, Sammy what did you do?"

I walked toward the front, to collect some supplies when the tv turned on next to me. It was all static. I clicked it off only for it to turn back on. The radio clicked on as well. I reached immediately, just like I was taught, and I grabbed salt off the shelf and poured it around the window. I glanced back at the tv. Something was happening. A high pitched ringing came to my ears. I covered one, but it just got louder. I dropped the salt, my hands covering my ears. My ear drums were going to explode.

The glass windows cracked and exploded in an instant, sending me to the floor, covered in glass. The noise stopped, and I looked around. No cold spots. What the fuck is going on?

I opened the cash register for some coins. I went outside to the pay phone, because my cell was dead in my pocket. I slipped a coin in and dialed Sams number from memory. "The number you have tried to reach has been disconnected.” Ava's was disconnected too.

Something was wrong. I tried Bobby next. Ring. Ring. Ring. "Hello?"

"Bobby?"

"Who is this?"

"It's me."

"Whose me?"

"It's Dean..." I began, my throat still hoarse.

Click.

I groaned and slid another coin in. I dialed his number again.

"Listen, I don't know who this is, but it isn't funny. You call here again, and I'll kill ya." Click.

I rubbed my face. I wasn't sure where I was. I couldn't place it, but there was an old car parked near the phone booth. I shook my head and pushed out of the phone booth to hot wire it.

I planned to head straight to Bobby's. I didn't know what happened while I was gone, but if Ava and Sams phones were off there'd be no guarantee that they'd be at the house, but Bobby was still at home. That was a start.

—————————-

I knocked on his door. I drank five bottles of water and ate some jerky on the drive up. I was feeling a lot better, but not as good as I felt when Bobby swung the door open.

He looked good, and I realized then how much I missed him. "Surprise!"

Bobby's mouth hung open. His eyes squinted. "I don't..."

"Yeah, me neither," I said stepping through the door. "But here I am."

He came at me with a knife. I dodged him and put a chair between us. "Bobby it's me!"

"The hell it is!" He came at me again.

"Wait wait! Your name is Robert Singer, you became a hunter when your wife was possessed by a demon, your niece is Ava Langston. I married her even though you told me no... Bobby it's me."

He pushed the chair out of the way and reached out slowly to touch me. His hand rested on my shoulder for a split second before he came at me again.

I pushed him out of the way, managing to take his knife from him. "I'm not a shape shifter!"

"Then you're a revenant!"

"If I was either could I do this with a silver knife?" I asked, groaning internally. I sliced my upper arm, feeling the familiar sting of blade against flesh.

"Dean?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"It's good to see you, Son. How did you bust out?"

"I don't know.. I just.."

My face was wet. Bobby had taken his flask of holy water and doused me with it. If I weren't so damn happy to be alive I'd be annoyed. I took my sleeve and wiped it off. "I'm not a demon either. Satisfied?"

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugged. "This doesn't make any sense... you were ripped to shreds. Even if you got out you shouldn't have had a body to come back to. What do you remember?"

"Nothing," I lied, my jaw tense. "Sammy and Ave’s phones are turned off... are they?"

Bobby sat up a little straighter. "They're okay. They're still living at the house, they just wanted out. The last few months have been tough. We had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me?"

"I wanted to salt and burn you, ya know the hunters funeral, but Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well," I said, touching my solid form. "I guess I'm glad he won that argument."

"He said you'd need your body when he brings you back home somehow."

"Well he brought me back alright, but whatever he did has bad mojo. Something blew past me at a gas station and then there's this." I pulled up my sleeve to show him the hand print.

"What the hell?"

"Looks like a demon pulled me out of Hell."

"But why?"

"To hold up its end of the bargain." I turned, sending my fist into the wall.

"You think he made a deal?" Bobby didn't look convinced.

"Yeah, I do. It's what I would've done."

Sam

"Who are you?" I asked, grabbing for the knife and the holy water in the side table near the door.

"I'm Dean." He looked confused.

I grabbed the knife and lunged at him, but he grabbed ahold of me. "This shit again?" He grumbled, taking my blade. "Look," he said, cutting his forearm. "Not a shifter, not a revenant. Give me the holy water."

I looked at him curiously, but I complied. He took a swig of the flask and let me go. "Dean?"

"I know... I look fantastic." He gave his classic wide grin, and I pulled him into a hug. He was solid. He was here.

He squeezed me back before releasing me. "So tell me," he began, stepping into the house. "What did it cost?"

"What did what cost?"

"Getting me out. Did you just sell your soul or is it something worse?"

I frowned. "Dean, I didn't sell my soul. I tried. I tried everything and no one would deal. I don't know how you got back, but it wasn't me. It's been tearing me up I knowing I couldn't save you."

"Are you lying to me?"

"No. I'm not. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Sammy. I believe you."

We looked between each other. We wanted to know, how did he get out?

He walked into the living room, picking up a framed photo of Ava. One that he'd taken. "Where... where is she, Sam?"

I swallowed hard. "She's at work."

His shoulders looked relaxed. "She's back to work? Where?"

"She just started working as a detective again. She should be home soon."

I wanted to warn her, but I didn't know what I'd say. I made love to her this morning, and now he's back.

"And..." He laid the picture down. "And what about Peanut?"

I smiled. "She's great. She's with Dad."

He crossed his arms and stepped toward me. "You let Dad take her?"

"He's actually really good with her," I said awkwardly.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hopefully better than he was with us."

"Much better," I agreed.

"Good... that's good." He slowly lowered himself onto the couch.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What was it like?"

He glanced up at me. "What was what like? Hell?"

"Yeah."

"Honestly, Sammy, I don't remember a damn thing."

I looked at him, and with the way that his forehead was wrinkled and his hands were clasped together. I knew he was lying.

—————

Chapter Twelve, Lanterns

Get caught up!

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renegade-is-in-my-blood · 7 years ago

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Hey. In summer 2015 my family and I went to Bulgaria. Why do I mention Bulgaria if this is supposed to be story about Dracula in Romania ?

Well as I’m from east of Slovakia on our car ride to Bulgaria we had to ride quite a journey and most off our ride was through Romania.

As a teen fascinated by popular vampires like Twilight saga, Vampire diaries, True blood or classic Bram Stoker’s Dracula I convinced my fam to make a stop and explore Romania for a bit and visit some notorious places connected to Dracula. After our online search we picked 2 places – Dracula’s castle and grave. Plan was to visit grave, stay the night at a hotel we booked ahead and continue our long drive to our final destination – Bulgaria, and on our way back visit castle, also stay the night and continue home.

But reality was slightly different.

Here is the rough distance we took from our place to Bulgaria:

We clearly went through a lot of Romania and unfortunately there were very few, almost no high ways and we was stuck behind trucks that were slowing us way down all the time. Because of this terrible road experience we did not have enough time to visit Dracula’s grave and we headed straight to our place for the night and continued to our holiday destination so we’ll be on time at our hotels check up.

All along our ride we could notice this incredibly marvelous houses. It would probably look luxurious in different setting , but in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pretty much nothing it looked so odd. We could see 5-7 of this fairytale houses in a row and then just road and fields. It was not even like a village cuz there would be no other buildings just this huge houses. I also noticed them in bigger towns as well. It was still very spectacular to look at them.

We arrived safely and had amazing time in Bulgaria but I’m gonna talk about that in separate article soon.

So on our way back we had full program for one day – we wanted to visit both of attractions we planed and stay the night in Romania as well.

Let’s talk about Dracula for a while. Ofc we were not looking for actual Transylvanians vampires but tracking the life of Vlad III/ Vlad the Impaler/ Vlad Dracula – ruler of Wallachia. Vlad’s life and especially his cruelty inspired famous Bram Stoker in his novel Dracula which added great popularity to this historical figure. Not that he needed any more popularity I mean this dude was not called impaler just for a fun. This guy was impaling people through their rectum all the way up ( I once saw this brutal documentary where scientists were testing if it was possible that the victims of this kind of piecing could actually survive several days while being impaled as legends tell (spoiler alert – they could but it required a great amount of skills)), dipping bread in his enemies blood while dining near their dead bodies (allegedly – who can really tell)

I once saw this documentary explaining why legend of vampires came from countries like Romania or Bulgaria. I don’t remember the dates or name of the plague but to explain it simply, somehow dead people were not actually dead and they were waking up in their graves and dying horrible death, so to prevent this you had to imply them with a stick to make sure they are actually dead. I guess not everyone was familiar with this. Also they were making very shallow graves for their dead so when the float came and brought up the dead implied with the stick – obviously people freak and the legends begun.

There’s a bunch of articles about Vlad and his life if you’re curious for more.

Truth remains Vlad Dracula’s sadism and Stokers book are great for Romania’s tourism.

We had all of the directions in our GPS so it was easy to find the place while we were in a car. Turns out the grave of Vlad – Comana Monastery is in the middle of lake on a small island. What surprised me the most was the lack of people, I assumed we would just follow other tourist and won’t have to do such search on our own.

And the strangeness just began.

We came to this island where we could see the towers of the monastery and small pavement leading to it. When we came closer we met this family that were clearly residents as they were all in their comfy home clothes just chilling in front of their house right next to the monastery. The had this 2 small dogs that were laying in the heat on the grass. I remember this 2 old ladies, probably grandmas, small kids and one middle-aged lady all staring at us as we just entered their property in the middle of the day. I still have no idea what really went on cuz the weirdness was just too much. We quickly considered leaving but decided to go on and see what happens. The lady came to us and of course she did not speak english, nor could we speak Romanian, but somehow we let here know that we’re looking for Dracula’s tomb. She understood and led us to the monastery, actually unlocked the door with a key from her pocket in font of us – obviously there were no other tourist beside us.

We wanted to ask how much is for the ticket and lady handed us paper where she wrote the number (as it was easier to understand the number that just words) but it was in Romanian currency called lei, and all we had was Bulgarians lev and euros. Lady picked up calculator and paper with all of currency written on it. I guess she was not very good at math at school cuz the price she wanted for ticket to see the monastery – where we were already standing and it was just this one room – was over 1000 euros. We laughed and tried explain to her that it must be a mistake that she can’t charge 1000 euros for this place, so she was calculating it again and again for several minutes and the language barrier was making this all so hard for both of us. It turned out to be 10 euros in the end but no one can be really sure so my dad gave here like 20 euros just in case and joined us – while we already seen everything there was.

It looked like any other orthodox church in our place, gold, pictures of saints, mosaics, crosses and on the ground simple grey rectangle with picture of Vlad III and I guess there was a candle on the ground and that was it – that was the tomb.

We did not take any photos as we figured it was forbidden as lady just said “no” and pointed to our camera. She actually tried to tell us something about this place using hands instead of words and it was like playing charades. From what we guessed she was telling us about tunnels that was underneath the monastery, and Vlad was probably hiding there at some point, and most interesting part was when she “told” us that this was grave of Vlad’s headless body. Dracula’s head is buried in some other place but I might have guessed her gestures all wrong.

What was most fascinating for me was the strange feeling of this place AND (!!) there were satanic looking symbols all over the holly pictures and walls painted with deep dark reddish color.

It was creepy as hell. And I’m really not making this up even when this was 3 years ago ( i could never forget this) me and my sisters were just checking them all like what the fuck is that. There were pentagrams, stars, birds and other animals just simple ornaments all over the lower parts of walls on this place and it remind me of literally any episode of TV show called Supernatural ( cool show I would recommend watching if you’re into creepy horror like theme but it has like 20 series and I got bored after half of it) I tried to search for it online but I can’t seem to find the proof of my words anywhere. It might be just local vandals or something but it was odd like this whole experience.

BTW how cool is this family – imagine you have Dracula buried in your backyard. Forget the part about the vampire stuff but you have a guy who’s famous for his sadism buried in your backyard. Forget about that as well but you have your country’s ruler’s headless body buried in your backyard. This family is wild.

All of our Dracula’s grave visit took us around 15 minutes and we wet out, sat in a car and headed to Dracula’s castle – Castle Bran

Storm was coming, air got thicker the closer we got, dark clouds and Dracula’s castle in the distance. This image looks like straight out of Dracula’s novel:

As I mentioned – great for tourism – the closer we got the more of this gift shop we saw alongside the roads.

Make sure you remember the opening hours to this castle – or any other place you want to visit – otherwise you’ll be standing 5 minutes after closing hours like we did. We missed it. So we adjusted the plan again – we had dinner under the castle, checked out some souvenirs and headed to our place for the night. We stayed with some locals that offer a room, or whole floor in our case for tourists. It’s much cheaper and feels more at home than hotel.

We tried it again in the morning – opening hours of Bran castle 9:00 – 19:00 – price 15 euros. The place was lovely , lot of tourists though. There were huge gardens underneath the castle and you had to climb you way up to the castle.

Insides had quite small ceilings, so someone as tall as my dad would need to be very careful. You could find descriptions and stories in every room in different languages. Old rooms, displays of fashion, weapons, furniture, combs, torture instruments and incredible view – here are some photos:

Fun fact: even thought its famous as Dracula’s castle – actual Vlad Dracula spend there only very short period. All of the tourists are there for the place where Bran Stokers novel occurs. And tourism is benefiting – I myself got shit ton of Dracula’s souvenirs.

To be fair I was not as thrilled about this castle. Being from middle europe I’m very well familiar with castles or monasteries as we have a lot of them in my country and since I was a kid I took family or school trips to almost every of them. And in the end they all start to look the same (sorry) I’m sure it would be fascinating for someone who never visited such place – it was just nothing new for me. And the connection to Dracula was very little – his tomb was at least creepy and I would never forget that but I can hardly remember the castle now.

I would still recommend both places as they were both very interesting and memorable experiences for me.

Thank you so much for your attention

xo Natalia

Visiting Dracula in Romania Hey. In summer 2015 my family and I went to Bulgaria. Why do I mention Bulgaria if this is supposed to be story about Dracula in Romania ?

#book #bram stoker #bran #bran castle #castle #dracula #experience #novel #recommendations #romania #summer #tomb #travel #travel blog #travel experience #traveler #traveling #trip #vlad

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knotsandknives · 7 years ago

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prompt fill for anonymous who said: I would literally kill for a fanfic with a sick Joseph begging Robert for sex and getting refused because Robert wants him to stay in bed and get better. (Bonus if theres lots of Joseph teasing to try and get what he wants)

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Mary has the kids for the weekend, taking them on a road trip to Maine for the Pumpkinfest and Regatta event in Damariscotta (which, honestly, Joseph wouldn’t have minded going to that himself, but this was finally a chance at a whole weekend alone with Rob), and Joseph had stocked the house with enough food and booze to ensure they wouldn’t need to go outside for at least two days. He’d washed the sheets, vacuumed the couch, cleaned the kitchen counters (Robert’s a pretty firm believer in the ‘whenever the mood strikes’ approach to sex). He has been waiting for this, and he is ready.

Which is why, Joseph is sure, he’d woken up with a sore throat and a splitting headache, which had progressed into full-blown, nose-dripping, incessant-coughing sickness in a matter of hours. It’s the universe playing the cruelest of tricks on him, and he doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing.

He’s tried everything from alka seltzer to steam showers to fervent prayer, but he’s only getting worse as the clock ticks nearer to Robert’s promised arrival time of 4 p.m. He’d caught the earliest flight out. He was looking forward to this as much as Joseph. Joseph feels horrible.

Literally. But he’s determined to fake his way through this if it kills him. Who knows when the next time they’ll get a weekend alone will be. It’s now or never, Joseph thinks, grimly.

He allows himself two more hours to wallow in bed before dragging himself to the bathroom to shower, shave, and moisturize. He wishes Mary had left some kind of foundation or concealer behind when she’d moved out. The bags under his eyes combined with the sickly pallor of his skin are dead giveaways. Maybe he’ll just keep the lights off when Robert arrives and claim a desire for a little mood lighting.

Joseph gets situated on the couch, barefoot in silk pajamas, really playing up the cliche here, with 30 minutes to spare. And promptly falls asleep, mouth open to combat the stuffiness in his nose, chest rattling with every shallow breath.

He wakes to the slam of the front door, throat screaming for a lozenge, eyes crusted with sleep. God, he’s a mess. Joseph struggles into an upright position, scrubbing at his eyes, slapping his cheeks to infuse them with a little bit of color.

“Honey, I’m home!” Robert calls out from the entryway.

“In here!” Joseph calls back, wincing at the strain on his throat. Hopefully his ears are as stuffed as his nose, distorting his hearing, because he sounds like he’s already got one foot in the grave.

There’s the sound of Robert’s luggage hitting the floor, which means he’d come straight here without stopping at home. He must not be planning to go home at all, since he’d brought the bag in with him. Joseph feels warm all over, but that could be the fever.

Robert steps into the living room, broad smile on his face. He’s removed his jacket, and the open v-neck of his shirt exposes the sharp protrusions of his collarbone, the thatch of grey-flecked hair on his chest. He’s got more than the usual two-or-three day’s worth of stubble, working his way toward an honest beard, like he’s been too busy to bother with it. Joseph knows he’ll shave it off within the next day or so, but for now, he anticipates the burn it’ll leave at his mouth and chest and thighs. There’s an intensity in his eyes that Joseph recognizes as the strain of time apart, but there’s hunger too, in the way his gaze sweeps over Joseph’s body, lingering on his bare ankles and unbuttoned shirt. Joseph shivers, a little. It’s not the fever.

“Somebody’s eager,” Robert says, stopping at the coffee table to toe out of his boots. Joseph wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t really have the energy to lift his arms, so he settles for lounging seductively against the arm of the couch.

“I’m not even going to deny it or try to engage in some kind of witty banter,” Joseph tells him. Mostly because my head feels like someone stuffed cotton in it. “I want you and I missed you. Just kiss me.”

Robert obeys, sliding over Joseph’s prone body, hands trailing over silky fabric from his waist to his neck, cupping his jaw with gentle fingers. He kisses with restraint, gentle even when Joseph would have him be rough, the kiss more of a greeting than anything else.

“Hi,” Robert says, soft, pressing a kiss to the corner of Joseph’s mouth. He can be frustratingly tender, sometimes.

“Hi,” Joseph tries to reply, but the word sticks in his throat, sending him into another fit of hacking coughs. Robert pulls back, frowning. Joseph is flooded with dread, trying desperately to suppress the coughing. He holds his breath until his lungs feel like they’ll burst, but it isn’t enough to get Robert back where he was.

His hands come up to frame Joseph’s face before he lays one flat against his forehead. “You’re burning up,” he says, accusingly. “You’re sick?”

Joseph shakes his head weakly, not even enough to dislodge Robert’s hand. He’s still holding his breath, so he can’t answer with words. He just leans in, aiming for Robert’s mouth, intending to kiss him long and good enough to make him forget anything else. Robert pushes him back, hand at his head.

“You’re sick,” he says again, not a question this time.

“No, I’m not,” Joseph coughs out, gasping for air in between. “I just swallowed wrong. I’m fine, really.”

“Your eyes are glassier than mine late on a Friday night.”

“Try any night,” Joseph shoots back before he’s seized by another round of coughing. Robert grasps his shoulder, pulling him upright so he can rub his back in firm, soothing circles. Joseph rests his head on Robert’s chest, miserable.

“I know it’s the sickness makin’ you all mean and disagreeable, so I’m gonna let that one slide,” Robert says magnanimously. “Why didn’t you tell me you caught the plague?”

“I just woke up to it this morning,” Joseph rasps out, trying to speak carefully to avoid another fit. “I took medicine. It should kick in any minute.”

Robert snorts, inelegantly. “Bullshit. Only cure for this kinda thing is a solid coupla day’s sleep.”

Joseph makes a protesting noise that Robert mocks. “Robert, come on. We’ve been waiting for this. I cleaned the house!” Joseph lifts his head, imploring eyes meeting Robert’s. “I feel good enough for this, I swear. Just kiss me again.”

“I don’t want your germs.”

Robert laughs when Joseph pouts, ducking his attempts to draw him back into a kiss.

“Rob! We can’t waste this opportunity.” Joseph pauses, considering. “I shaved earlier.” He leans in, putting his lips to Robert’s ear, voice dropping enticingly. Minus the congested wheeze. “And not just my face.”

Robert groans, theatrically. “Don’t make it worse,” he scolds, turning his face into Joseph’s hair. “I’m not tellin’ you no because I want to.”

“So don’t tell me no,” Joseph wheedles, pressing his luck by trailing kisses along the column of Robert’s throat. He pretends the wetness he leaves behind is from his mouth and not his nose.

Robert is holding very still, hands resting against Joseph’s back, not encouraging but not discouraging, either. He lets Joseph find his mouth again, consenting to a deeper kiss than before. Joseph feels a thrill of victory, shifting closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. Robert’s fuller-than-normal beard tickles his nose, and Joseph sneezes. Just like that. No warning. Into Robert’s open mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Robert sputters, jerking away. His beard is full of Joseph’s snot. He rubs a hand across his face, looking between Joseph and the hand in abject horror. Joseph stares back, mouth open to apologize, but the expression on his face is too good. Joseph bursts into laughter, gasping with it when Robert’s face settles into a heavy scowl.

Of course, he starts coughing before he can say anything, harsh and painful. Robert touches his back again, gently. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he says, sounding disgruntled but concerned. Joseph catches his hand as he stands.

“Cough drop?” he manages, falling back against the couch when Robert nods. His head is killing him again, not amenable to the frequent bouts of coughing. His throat feels like someone’s been walking around it in cleats, and not the soft spike kind. The sneeze cleared his sinuses briefly, but he can already feel them closing up again. Fucking colds.

Robert comes back with a tall glass of lukewarm water, guessing correctly that cold would be torture right now. He’s got a handful of troches, unwrapping one and handing it over when Joseph finishes his water. Joseph gives him a wane smile in thanks.

“Think you can make it upstairs?” Robert asks, pressing the back of his hand to Joseph’s forehead again, his own brow wrinkled in worry. “Probably be more comfortable.”

“I’m not going upstairs unless you promise to fool around with me,” Joseph insists, stubbornly. “Otherwise, the fresh sheets and candles and flowers are just going to depress me.”

“You got candles and flowers?” Robert asks, sounding amused. “I ain’t your girl, you know.”

“You’re my man,” Joseph counters, leaning into the touch when Robert’s hand slides down to cup his cheek. “I want to seduce you.”

“Sneezing in my face was a good start.”

Joseph huffs a laugh, turning his face into Robert’s hand, slightly embarrassed now that the amusement has faded. He knows Robert won’t hold it against him but still. How mortifying. “Let me make it up to you,” he implores, still going for sexy. “However you want. Whatever you like.”

Robert fixes him with a considering look. “I like those pajamas,” he admits, trailing a finger across the line of Joseph’s shoulders. “But what I’d really like is to just curl up with you in those fresh sheets of yours for a few hours.”

“Rob…”

“Hey, I’m tired too, kid,” Robert insists, still running his hands over Joseph’s chest. “I’m gonna need my rest if I’m gonna fight off whatever it is you’re trying so hard to give me.”

“I’m trying to give you my -” Robert covers Joseph’s mouth with a hand, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“We’ll see how you feel after some sleep, how’s that?” Robert promises, prodding Joseph until he stands, a little wobbly as his head swims. Robert fits himself under his arm, wrapping his own around Joseph’s waist tightly. “We can try the sneezing thing again. I could maybe get into it.”

“Rob,” Joseph groans, shuffling his way up the stairs at Robert’s behest. Rob just laughs, easing him down at the edge of the bed. He helps Joseph swing his legs up on the mattress, tucking the sheets around him once he’s situated. Joseph makes a helpless noise when he steps away, but Robert just winks at him, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know I tell you this all the time, but today I mean it literally when I say you’re hot, baby.” Robert shucks his pants next, crossing to the other side of the bed before sliding in next to Joseph. “If I’m gonna sleep with you, I gotta lose some layers.”

“You could lose them all,” Joseph suggests, scooting closer to Robert and hooking a leg over both of his, trapping him beneath Joseph’s greater weight. He props himself up on an elbow, leaning in to share a honey-lemon flavored kiss. Robert catches his wandering hand before it can reach the waistband of his briefs.

“Nice try. Turn over.”

Joseph complies happily, flipping onto his stomach and smiling across the bed at Robert. Robert shakes his head, pulling at Joseph’s far shoulder until he’s up on his side, fitting himself in close to his back.

“I meant like this,” Robert clarifies, dropping an arm over Joseph’s waist. His hands, typically so warm and rough, feel almost cool against Joseph’s heated skin, as does his nose when he presses it to the back of Joseph’s neck.

Joseph settles back into him, shifting more than is strictly necessary just to feel the weight of Robert’s groin against his ass.

“Stop that,” Robert demands, gruffly, when it’s clear he isn’t doing the best job of ignoring him.

Joseph smiles at the wall, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Robert in his periphery. He has his eyes firmly closed, but Joseph can see the tension in his mouth. He’s working so hard to keep himself in control. All Joseph would need to do is-

“I can hear you thinking. Go the fuck to sleep, Christiansen, or I’ll leave.” Robert softens the threat with a kiss at the juncture of Joseph’s neck and shoulder. His fingers brush over Joseph’s stomach, comforting. “It looks real romantic in here, by the way. You done good.” Joseph just sighs.

“I had plans, you know,” he tells Robert, mournfully, coughing a little. His head feels like it’s in a vice. “We weren’t going to leave the house all weekend. I stocked up on food and alcohol. And lube,” he adds, as an afterthought. “And not the boring kind, either. I got flavors, Rob. And the warming kind. And -”

“Joseph,” Robert whines. “Stop. We still aren’t going to leave all weekend. We’re gonna stay right here.” He pulls Joseph closer for emphasis. “This is good, baby.” He kisses across Joseph’s shoulders, beard scratching like Joseph knew it would.

Joseph sighs again, linking his fingers through the ones Robert has on his stomach. “Will you fuck me, like this, when we wake up?”

Robert makes a pained noise, hips pressing into Joseph’s ass briefly. Joseph grins. Everything he ever says is designed to wind Robert up. If he were feeling just a little stronger, he’d turn over and put Robert on his back. He knows he wouldn’t resist, at this point. But the sheets are still cool, and the pillow is so soft, and he really is so tired. And Robert feels so solid at his back, strong and hairy and heavy. At over six feet and two hundred pounds, there aren’t a lot of people who can make Joseph feel small. There’s no one in the world who can make Joseph feel small like Robert can, even if he’s technically the bigger of the two. His presence is just so big. It overwhelms all of Joseph’s senses. And those damn broad shoulders.

“I promise,” Robert is saying, voice muffled in Joseph’s neck, “we’ll get through at least one of those bottles of lube you bought this weekend. Even if it kills you.”

Joseph laughs, then coughs. Robert rubs his back apologetically.

“That’s generous of you,” he wheezes out, finally. Robert hugs him close, and Joseph closes his eyes, still cursing his luck but content with this. For now.

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

#robert small #joseph christiansen #roseph #dream daddy #ddadds #prompt fill #this one was so fun #but i really wanted to fit in #''are you saying you don't wanna get with this?''#a la monica geller #but it just came off too jokey #my fic #thank you for continuing to send these i love you all

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babybaguette · 7 years ago

Text

Gemini Ch. 18

Teen Wolf

Words: 1893

FF.net: x

AO3: x

* * *

“So, Scott’s… the alpha?”

“No, Scott’s a beta. Derek’s an alpha.”

“But not part of the Alpha pack?”

“Right.”

“Although, Scott’s got something going on where he might be an alpha.”

“So he’s… sort of an alpha?”

“Sort of. Maybe.” “He’d make a better alpha than Derek, anyway.”

Six hours and several excruciating contractions later, there was neither hide nor hair of Jennifer or the pack. Melissa enlisted Isaac in helping her explain all the supernatural creatures and subsequent events in the town. Werewolves, Kanima, druids, hunters, and now the Darach.

Sheriff Stilinski sighed and shook his head. “All this time, I was sharing a town with werewolves,” he mumbled, “werewolves and God knows what else.”

It was a lot to take in. The sheriff had spent a good part of life dedicating his life to protecting Beacon Hills from crime, and now he was just realizing that he’d only scratched the surface.

The waning sunlight was shining through the cracks in the cellar door. The full moon would be on the rise soon, and that meant that, unless someone did something, bad things were about to happen. Jennifer was building up strength for something, the Alphas were gathering their resources; meanwhile, the good guys were all either helpless teenagers or they were locked up in a cellar. At least Chris was still out there.

At least, they thought he was.

The door flew open, flooding the cramped room with pale light and disturbing the dust with a gale. Jennifer stood at the top of the stair, silhouetted by storm clouds, no doubt of her own making. She dragged what sounded like a body behind her with disproportionate strength for a woman her size. As Isaac honed his hearing, he recognized the shallow breathing of one Chris Argent, unconscious.

There was a frustrated silence as the teacher from hell tied the hunter to a pole. Where she got all this rope from, one could only guess. The other three didn’t dare say anything; any plead they could make would fall on deaf ears, anyhow. Plus, they were all preoccupied with the fact that now that Jennifer had all three sacrifices plus one, there was nothing stopping her from slaughtering them all right then.

Once Chris was bound like the other two adults, Jennifer wasted no time in relieving the hunter of his hidden arsenal of well-concealed sharp weapons. She then took a step back and admired her handiwork. They all caught the smirk she threw around the room before leaving the cellar as silently as she came.

All three breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the howling wind was shut out.

“Jesus,” the Sheriff gasped, “well, there goes one of our few chances of rescue.”

“Scott will find us,” Isaac said with wavering confidence. Scott always saved the day. Scott would find them.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Argent woke up. He seized, gasping for air, getting his bearings. As his sight adjusted, he assessed his surroundings.

“You okay over there?” the Sheriff asked. No response, just panicked breathing.

“Chris?” Melissa chided gently. “It’s Chris, right?”

Chris nodded. Finally, it seemed like he was conscious enough to get a handle on the situation; he took a good look around the cellar. He laughed; then he groaned.

The Sheriff read his body language and furrowed his brow helplessly. “Is it just me, or has somebody been here before…?”

“Years ago,” the hunter replied. He began twisting in his binds, trying to get at his boot.

“Hate to disappoint you, but, uh, we watched her take your ankle knife.”

Chris twisted the other way.

“And the knife that’s in your sleeve,” Ms. McCall added.

Chris writhed angrily.

“And the switchblade in your other sleeve,” Isaac finished. It was then that the hunter finally noticed the werewolf’s presence, and seemed like he was about to go off, but he never got the chance.

Jennifer was back.

“And the taser in your jacket pocket,” she teased, descending the dangerously rotted flight of stairs. They all craned their necks to watch as the druid played her taunting game with Chris. She mopped at his bleeding forehead, feigning concern as she spouted off her righteous sacrificial bullshit.

“Think about what you’re doing,” she preached, “you are making this town, even this world, safer for your children. Ah, well,” she turned slowly on her heels to cast a sinister glance at Melissa, “most of them.” She turned to Isaac as well. “I can’t say much for teenage wolves, or their offspring.”

Ignoring a warning look from Melissa, Isaac growled, baring his fangs and struggling against his bonds.

“If it’s a sacrifice you want,” the teen snarled, “Why don’t you just give your own life? I’m sure the Nemeton would love a taste of your blood.”

Jennifer Blake laughed and it was cold and heartless. “I’m sure this tree has already drunk its fill of my blood. No,” she stood and stalked over to Isaac, “what it needs,” and traced her long fingernails along his throat, “is a little taste of the supernatural.”

She strode back up the creaking stair, leaving that laugh ringing in Isaac’s ears.

As the door closed once more, they all let out a breath none of them knew they were holding. Isaac felt anger rise in his chest and wanted to break his bonds right then and there; chase down the witch and spill her lifeblood across the leaves. But the ropes were tight, and Jennifer was long gone.

The twins protested in their own way; as another contraction tightened across his belly, they kicked hard at his insides. He moaned loudly, laying his head back and trying to lower his heart rate-- Jennifer had sent it racing.

Chris turned his way. “Still?”

“Yeah, it-aaaahhh!” Isaac winced, hunching his shoulders and letting out a low whine. “They’re-- they’re getting… worse…” he panted. There wasn’t much time between the contractions, and now they were starting to get longer in length.

“Isaac, just hang in there, alright?” Melissa soothed. “You’re gonna be okay. It’ll all be okay.” None of them, not even her, could tell if she was speaking solely about Isaac in that last statement. It seemed all of them needed a little encouragement.

Isaac shook his head, his eyes shut tight against the pain. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he said, voice ridden with worry and anguish.

After the werewolf’s breathing finally slowed to a somewhat normal pace, they all fell into a silence. They were all thinking about their children in one way or another. Melissa, the Sheriff, and Mr. Argent were all worried about their children on the outside, fighting the bad guys. Isaac was thinking about his twins. His little werewolves, about to come into the world while there was a war going on. Who knew if they would even survive being born in a cellar; who knew if Isaac would survive?

At one point, the silence got so loud that they all felt someone had to break it. None of them, however, wanted to. There was nothing to say. So Chris started squirming again. He pulled and writhed in his ropes until he was out of breath.

Melissa sighed. “I don’t wanna kill your optimism or anything, but, y’know, we’ve all been trying to do the exact same thing for hours.”

Chris huffed in frustration and impatience. He tried wriggling from another angle.

“You been tied up before?” the Sheriff asked. Oddly enough, it wasn’t that strange a question when you were talking to a someone of his profession.

“Many times,” said hunter answered, still trying his luck with the ropes.

“Is that, uh… part of being a werewolf hunter?”

Chris froze. He looked to Melissa, who shrugged playfully.

“I tried to download him on as much as I could,” she explained.

“Yeah, I was starting to feel a bit left out.”

“And I suppose she also got you up to speed with Isaac’s situation?” The hunter turned menacingly to the teen. Isaac was wondering when the reprimand would come; the ‘I told you so’ speech, the ‘what were you thinking’ lecture. Chris was staring daggers in the teen’s direction.

“Yes, I’m caught up,” the Sheriff said, trying to pull Chris’s attention.

“Then you know how foolish he is for getting involved,” the hunter continued, undiverted, “in something way out of his depth, when he was told repeatedly to stay behind.”

“You wanted me to stay behind and do nothing while Cora and everybody else was in danger!” Isaac knew he was just digging his own grave by arguing, but he had to defend his choices. He had just been doing what he thought was right.

“And look at where it got you!” Chris retorted. “In an underground cellar, about to either give birth, or be sacrificed.”

“I’m not losing anyone else!” Isaac cried. “Look what happened when no one helped Erica and Boyle. Look what happened when no one helped me! I can’t sit back and watch while everyone is so caught up in their own bullshit that we watch another person die!”

The young werewolf’s voice diminished until it broke. He refused to cry, it would only further exaggerate his weakness, but he could let himself be frustrated. Frustrated with himself, with Chris, with every extenuating circumstance that had gotten him here.

He could feel the pity from Melissa and the Sheriff wash over him like a tidal wave, and he hated it. He didn’t want their sympathy-- after all, it wasn’t sympathy that would get them out of this mess. Chris, on the other hand, was working on something that might.

Out of God-knows-where, he pulled what looked like a thumbdrive.

“What is that?” asked Melissa, her hope rising again.

“Ultrasonic emitter,” he answered, “smaller version of what we use to corral werewolves. Only they hear it. Most of the time, we use it to push them away. Let’s see if it works to attract them.”

He gave Isaac a pointed look, and the teenager sniffed. The idea that Chris thought someone was coming for them was laughable-- half of his pack was miles away, probably busy fighting Deucalion, Derek was holed up downtown feeling sorry for himself, Corra was dying, and Peter was useless. Besides, what if the sonic wave attracted the wrong kind of werewolf? The last thing they needed was an--

“AAAAHH!!” Isaac screamed as a deafening wail hit him like a wall.

“Isaac!!” the Sheriff and Melissa cried

The nurse struggled at her bonds, and she wasn’t the only one; every muscle in Isaac’s body was tensed, and before he knew it, his arms broke free of the rope binding his wrists. He’d transformed, his eyes wide and blazing yellow. He kept screaming, his palms pressed to his ears, but he couldn’t block out the horrible noise.

And suddenly, it stopped.

Chris tossed the ultrasonic emitter away. “Well, that didn’t work.”

But the damage was done. Just like Lydia’s scream, the noise had triggered another contraction, and Isaac was clenching his fanged teeth. With his hands free, he hugged his cramping midsection, his still-tied feet kicking and writhing. His muscles seized, draining what little energy was left in his body.

Isaac let out a throat-burning scream.

Scott… Allison… anybody, he thought as his consciousness faded, please hurry...

#gomen........(;ↀ⌓ↀ)#teen wolf #isaac lahey #mpreg #gemini

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darisu-chan · 8 years ago

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The Power to Crush Destiny

Prompt: “The power in my hands was gained for her sake.”

Summary: There was only one reason he had achieved so much. It was all for her.

You can also read it here.

Kuchiki Byakuya had to be the proudest Shinigami he had ever encountered. He was also the one Shinigami whose intentions Ichigo couldn’t quite understand. Because who just lets their own sister be executed without doing anything? What is worse, who apprehends their sister and takers her to the place where she will be executed? It made no sense to Ichigo, who was an older brother himself. He had tried to figure out why, but he had come up empty. What’s with you, Kuchiki Byakuya? The only thing he knew for sure was that, if he didn’t defeat him, Kuchiki Byakuya would be the very one stopping him from saving Rukia, which at this point he couldn’t afford. Hopefully, Renji would get Rukia to safety and give him enough time to defeat Byakuya.

Both men’s swords clashed displaying all of their strength. “I told you! I can see your every move, Kuchiki Byakuya!” Ichigo exclaimed.

“Why…?” The older man started saying, surprising the human boy. “Why do you so persistently try to save Rukia?” He asked.

That’s the question, isn’t it? But even if I answered, you wouldn’t be able to understand. He thought, but decided not to voice his thoughts. “I’m the one who should be asking questions! Aren’t you Rukia’s older brother? Why aren’t you trying to help Rukia at all?” Ichigo demanded.

“What a pointless question. Even if I tell you the answer to that question, you would not be able to understand.” Byakuya, unknowingly, returned Ichigo’s own words back to him. “It is useless to continue this empty dialogue. Here I come.”

Byakuya then attacked him, with so much force he would have had the upper hand of the battle immediately had Ichigo been just like before. But he wasn’t. He had changed. He was far stronger now than he had ever been. He stood his ground, and looked at Byakuya pointedly.

“It looks like there is only one way to end this.” The older Shinigami spoke. “Kurosaki Ichigo, I will kill you.” He declared. “Then, with my own hands, I will carry out Rukia’s execution.”

Ichigo tensed. “No, that’s not going to happen.” He smiled. “I came here to make sure of that.” There’s no way I’ll let you lay a single finger on her.

Byakuya didn’t answer to that, and thus the fight started, with their swords clashing continuously. Kuchiki Byakuya excelled at swordsmanship, and had centuries of experience under his belt, but with each second the battle prolonged, and he was unable to cut the human in front of him, he realized Kurosaki Ichigo was a natural. He had mastered moves it took Shinigami years to learn. That annoyed him to no end. He tried to cut him down once again, but Ichigo got out of the way.

“Interesting. You were able to master shunpo as well.” Byakuya spoke gravely. “However, you’re really taking it easy, aren’t you?”

Ichigo smirked. “You’ve been casually analyzing my strength… Is it really a good idea to only do that? Aren’t you going to attack me?” I’m done with you underestimating me, Kuchiki Byakuya. “You haven’t even been able to scratch me once. Can it be this is the best you can do?” The young human taunted. “Hurry up and use Bankai!” I’ll defeat you at your strongest.

Byakuya, however, didn’t even blink.

“Earlier you said that you were going to kill me, and then execute Rukia with your own hands.” Ichigo spoke again.

“So?” The captain asked, not understanding why the human boy dragged the fight only to talk.

“I don’t like it!” Ichigo complained. “I’m going to use everything I have to defeat you! I’ll beat you until you have no strength left!” This is why I trained so much. I’m gonna make you pay! “To execute your own sister with your own two hands? What a sick joke!” He grumbled. “No matter what reasons you have, under whatever circumstances, don’t ever say that in front of Rukia again.” Ichigo threatened the older Shinigami with such seriousness he looked older than a teenager. “Use your Bankai! I will destroy it!” Ichigo said again. “Then I will take you to Rukia and make you cry wile apologizing to her!” What you’ve done to her is unforgivable. I won’t let you hurt her again. Ichigo thought.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “What a shallow taunt, brat!” Ichigo’s words had hit a nerve. “No matter what you say, I will not change my mind about Rukia’s fate and yours.” He’d kill them all if he had to. “You want me to use Bankai? Do not forget your place, brat. It is a thousand years too early for you to become worthy enough to die by my Bankai.” Then the Shinigami grabbed his sword and released its Shikai. “Scatter, Sebonzakura.”

Ichigo watched attentively as millions of sakura petals started forming a circle around his opponent. Not so long ago, he might have underestimated Byakuya and even laughed a little at his power being sakura flowers. He was much wiser now. One thing he had learned through this whole ordeal was to never take his eyes from his opponent in a battle, much less if said opponent was Kuchiki Byakuya. He waited for the impact, and then release his own attack, creating an explosion. Byakuya’s eyes widened as he watched all this, clearly surprised. Blood started dripping from his arm, and a dull pain hit him. He soon realized the boy had managed to hurt him.

“What was that flash of light? Was that the ability of your zampakutou?” He asked the boy, trying to remain as impassive as ever.

“Yeah.” Ichigo answered, narrowing his eyes. He then proceeded to explain his ability, never taking his eyes off of Byakuya, knowing full well the older man was already calculating an approach to defeat him. “That is Zangetsu’s special power. I’ve never been able to do an aimed shot before. Until today, I didn’t even know how I made this happen.” He got serious again. “Urahara-san once said to me ‘the only thing I can teach you is preparation.’ I didn’t know what he meant until I trained with Zangetsu.” Ichigo recalled meeting his zampakutou and being able to train with him. It had been difficult, but he hadn’t cared. He was much worried about something else. He had begged to learn an attack that could help him defeat Kuchiki Byakuya and anyone who got in his way. He couldn’t afford to lose when there was more at stake than his life. “The name of my attack is Getsuga Tenshou.” He informed his opponent. “I’ll say it again, Kuchiki Byakuya. Fight me with your Bankai! I will definitely defeat you!” Getsuga Tenshou isn’t the only thing Zangetsu taught me. I’ll defeat you when you least expect it!

“What an arrogant name.” Byakuya muttered. “So be it. Since you so strongly desire to see my Bankai, witness it with your eyes and remember it well…” He kept saying, dropping his sword, which remained floating.

Ichigo did not feel so cocky. He let go of the sword? He wondered, both parts amazed and frightened.

“Do not worry. You will not regret it.” Byakuya kept speaking. “Before you can do that, you will most certainly be rendered into dust before of me.” He proclaimed suddenly as thousands of blades appeared around him. “Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” Then, the blades transformed into petals, which rushed towards Ichigo. The boy quickly used his own sword to deflect the attack, while Byakuya observed. Ichigo jumped, trying to get away from the attack, but it was useless for the petals followed him. “Naïve.” Byakuya commented, his eyes never straying from his adversary. Soon, the petals surrounded Ichigo and covered him completely. “The strength of Senbonzakura lies in its ability to attack with its countless many blades from all directions. The strength of your zampakutou is great, however it is impossible to doge Senbonzakura’s attack using such a slow technique.” He explained as the petals dispersed, and he could see Ichigo again, lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Hah, damn… I thought I had it…” Ichigo said between gulps of breath. “But I guess not. It’s only logical that by using Shikai it’s impossible to beat Bankai. I totally underestimated you.”

“Be careful in your choice of words, brat. You sound as if you have acquired Bankai.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was implying, Kuchiki Byakuya!” Ichigo exclaimed. I’ve got you where I wanted!

“What did you say?” Byakuya asked astonished.

“You respond with a question? You know you heard me. You don’t believe me, do you? So it doesn’t matter if I say it a second or third time. If you refuse to believe my words, what about your own two eyes, Kuchiki Byakuya?!” Ichigo exclaimed as Byakuya stared at him with a mix of shock, anger and disgust. “Watch carefully. This is my Bankai!” Ichigo said, swinging his sword back in preparation. He stood his ground and concentrated all of his energy into the sword. He thought about everything he had done to accomplish this. All the battles he had fought and lost, and the ones he had won. His training with Urahara, his training with Yoruichi and his training with Zangetsu. He let all of his spiritual energy surround him as a shield. Next, he swung his sword forward, holding it in front of him. A single image appeared in his mind. He would not yield. He was going to win. “Bankai! A gust of wind enveloped him, and when it cleared it revealed Ichigo wearing a modified version of his robes as well as a black and sleek sword. “Tensa Zangetsu!”

“What is that thing?” Byakuya questioned, flabbergasted. “That small objects is his Bankai?” He wondered. “Isn’t that just the normal sealed form of your zampakutou?” The captain pondered for a moment. “I see… with the execution. With the Bankai.” He put two and two together and was displeased. “It seems that you really enjoy stepping on our pride. Then I shall carve on your body the penalty for violating our pride!”

Pride? It always comes down to your pride. Ichigo thought angrily, and flash stepped until he was in front of Byakuya, the tip of Zangetsu just below Byakuya’s throat. “Does that ‘pride’ thing have anything to do with Rukia’s execution?” He asked dangerously. “If so, then I’ll step on it just as you said.” He then straightened up and pointed his sword towards Byakuya. “For the power in my hands was gained for her sake!” He yelled.

His mind flashed him images of Rukia. Of the first time they met, of Rukia suddenly appearing at his school as his new classmate, of Rukia teaching him how to defeat hollows and how to perform konso, Rukia getting angry at him, Rukia smiling, Rukia hitting Kon, Rukia being there for him when he went against Grand Fisher, Rukia crying while telling him to stop his mindless fight with Byakuya. Lastly, Rukia at the Sokyoku, waiting for her death. His heart beat to the rhythm of a single name. Rukia Rukia Rukia. There was no way he’d let her die, least of all at the hands of her own brother. No, he was going to win. Everything he had done and achieved was all for her. He’d win, and then he’d take Rukia back with him and they’d resume their days together. You’ll live Rukia. Live and smile. With this thought in mind, he charged. He had nothing to fear. He had gained power enough to crush Rukia’s destiny with his bare hands.

#ichiruki #ichirukimonth #ichiruki fanfiction #my fanfiction

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thepaladinwrites · 8 years ago

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Long Way Home

This is a slightly darker piece for my Powers AU with @andipxndy, set after a battle when a tired Evac operation retrieves most of the exhausted mutants from the scene. Some, however, cannot be saved, and this weighs particularly heavy on Midas, an Atmokinetic who stands to lose his best friend.

Expanding this verse with AJ has been really fun so far, and I can’t wait to explore more of it! There will absolutely be more of these guys on here.

Commission Info

Rating: Gen Characters: Quinn Thomas, Micah Leister, James Phillips (Spitfire), Dan Kenworth (Midas), Mitch Tanner (Carcino), Alex Parker (Beacon), Aleisha Williams (Reaper), Obed Leister (Gladiator) Mentioned: Oliver Thomas (Aeroblast), Connor Phillips (Enigma), Carter Parsons (Chronos), Stephen Wright (Psych), Amy Smith (Maven) Warnings: Major Character Death Word Count: 1057

“He’s gone, Quinn. We just need transport. Get these guys back to base.” Connor’s voice buzzed over the intercom, and Quinn frowned.

“Confirmed. Be careful, Connor. Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, before switching the feed to the speakers located through the base. “Code Red. I repeat, there is a Code Red. Transport required, all teams report to deployment.”

“Guess I’m in charge then?” Micah asked, still watching the grainy feed of Connor sealing his team in the Facility boardroom. Quinn claps a hand on his shoulder, using it to push himself out of his seat.

“Yep. I’m gonna go brief the others,” he said solemnly. “I’ll let you know when we sort a dispatch, and you’re gonna have to get the message through to Obed.”

“Got it. Good luck with James,” Micah said, trying to joke but sounding almost monotonously tired. “Oh, and… try not to let them send Dan.”

“Quinn, what’re we dealing with?” James asked as Oliver leant on him, trying to catch his breath, the two of them having run from the training room three floors down. Quinn looked across the room of people, all staggering in at various levels of exhaustion. It had been a monster three days, and he was surprised at how many of them were still standing. He almost didn’t want to tell them the news.

“Reaper took out the drain, but Electrode managed to get out alive, so we need a tracker. Enigma sealed the others in a probability bubble so they’d be safe, and he’s gone after Chronos alone. The others need an Evac team as soon as possible. We might need Medical but, from what I can see, we’re going to be adding more bodies to the morgue either way,” Quinn explained as quickly as he could, and James nodded, turning to his team.

“You heard him. We have a lot of people still not cleared by Abbie, but we can pull together a big enough team for a safe Evac. Hypoxia, I want you and Typhoon on tracking as soon as possible. The rest of you, I’m going to need at least three volunteers for the Evac team,” James said. “I know we’re all tired, but, the faster we get everyone back, the faster we can shut down the Facility permanently.”

“Who died?” Dan piped up, stepping out from behind Mitchell. Quinn went pale, and swallowed slowly. “Quinn? Who is it?”

“... From what I could see, the drain siphoned aura strength. It latched onto the strongest force in the room.”

“No. Fuck off, tell me it isn’t -”

“Psych is currently incapacitated, but Engima has already conveyed his doubts when it comes to survival chances. At the moment, in the lock, all probability is fixed, so he’s dying, and quickly.”

Dan’s hand flew into the air, quickly followed by his teammate, Alex, and their healer, Mitchell.

“Let me go. James, let me get him. Please.”

James looked up at Quinn for a moment, who shakes his head. James just sighed.

“This is a shit situation… But, okay. But Carcino leads, not you, Beacon. Everyone else, fall out.”

Nothing could have prepared Dan for walking through the boardroom door. He had already had to stomach walking past an incapacitated Connor at the bottom of the stairwell, surrounded by bits of broken guard rail and partially lay on the pale, bloodied body of Carter. However, he would forever believe that the feeling as he stepped into the bubble holding his best friend to the last wisps of life was the deepest pain he had ever felt. His teammates, his friends, were huddled together, expressions ranging between confusion and anger. Feeling Mitchell’s hand on his shoulder, he jumped, beginning to shake. The air around him began to collect slowly, forming small clouds that seemed to gravitate towards each other.

“You can save him, can’t you?” he asked quietly, but Mitchell didn’t even acknowledge him, moving to quickly heal Jake’s shallow wounds. “Mitchell. Mitch, please, tell me you can save him.” He could barely look at the body. A fizzling pink glow was evaporating quickly from Stephen, down to the last dregs of light. He didn’t look dead. That was all Dan could think. He didn’t look dead. Small shards of ice shot down from the clouds surrounding him as he yelled, “Mitchell Tanner, tell me that you can bring him back!”

“I can’t do that!” Mitchell shouted, and Dan flinched, stepping back quickly, ice melting almost instantly. Mitchell didn’t get angry often and, mid-healing, his skin was almost transparent, giving him a more corpse-like appearance than the boy on the floor between them. “He’s gone, Dan! I can’t fix that!”

The room fell silent. Amy, who had been rocking slightly where she was sat against the wall, wiped a small amount of blood from her face. Aleisha tugged slightly on the edges of her gloves, as if she was attempting to pull them further up her forearms. Alex bumped his shoulder against Dan, who was beginning to well up, causing a few tears to escape, but they froze against Dan’s skin.

“He can’t just die.”

“I’m sorry, Daniel, but Mitch is right,” Aleisha said gravely, not meeting Dan’s eyes as his gaze flickered over to her. “I can… sense him, almost. He hasn’t… passed yet, but he can’t come back.”

For the first time since entering the room, Dan allowed himself to hover his gaze on his best friend. His skin was mottled, but pale, and Stevie was slack against the dirty carpet. The last trace of his aura, his life force, evaporated, and the air around Dan began to effervesce. Dan’s mind immediately swarmed with noise, and the smoke gathering around him began to cycle through matter states. As a crushing weight grew in his chest, he realised just how much his best friend had been protecting him.

“We need to get him out of here,” Alex said quietly, so quietly that Dan could barely hear him over the murmuring in his head, looking pointedly at Obed as if to imply that it was he who should be carrying the small hero. Obed nodded solemnly, making as if to pick him up.

“I can carry him,” Dan said quickly, and Obed stopped, frowning. “I’m carrying him,” he said again, more firmly. “He’s my best friend, it should be me.”

#writing #original writing #mololly writes #original character #powers au #breakingpointrp #tbapsidecharas #this was difficult #but important #my writing

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agentem · 8 years ago

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Emily Watches Iron Fist, Episode Three

Is Claire in this one? No.

Is Colleen in this one? Yes! From the beginning.

Is anyone else I care about in this one? Yes. Carrie-Ann Moss reprises her role as Jeri Hogarth from Jessica Jones.

But I’ll say about this one, maybe start here? I mean, especially if you only care about the other shows, this is the first one with crossover appeal. And also, the previous episode just served to establish that Danny Rand is, in fact, Danny Rand and, yes, he’s also the Iron Fist which you would’ve guessed from the title.

This one opens with Colleen, which is how it should be in my opinion...

Ward Meachum has sent goons to get her at her dojo. She beats the crap out of them and it’s my favorite fight scene thus far because it’s not in slow motion and it features a pretty girl in her pajamas beating up heavily armed men. I can be shallow, okay?

They are looking for Danny who escaped his mental institution. It turns out he’s hiding in the dojo because he’s a jerk. Colleen worries about cops showing up and putting her dojo on the line. She tells him “don’t be here in the morning.”

Weird scene with Ward and Daddy Faramir. He’s in like a glass case(??) and Ward wakes him up. Daddy is annoyed Ward tried to have Danny killed instead of following his instructions and hits him. He assures Ward he’s doing this because he loves him and stuff.

Back to Colleen! She’s trying to meditate when loud rap music plays. It’s Danny doing his tai chi. He is not gone, like she told him to be. What a jerk.

They start martial arts fighting and he’s telling her she’s using too much energy and basically schools her in front of one of her students, which is so rude. For some reason he’s surprised when she continues to tell him to GTFO. He’s like “I’m rich and will pay your rent!” and Collen rightfully points out he can’t afford a haircut, nevermind that I don’t think Colleen wants him to pay her rent.

Stuff like this is the heart of the trouble with the show. Is Danny acting like this because he doesn’t KNOW he’s being an ass? Or does he know and doesn’t care? If we give him the benefit of the doubt and say he doesn’t understand people, why wouldn’t he just take her request to leave at face value? And respect her wishes?

Colleen agrees to let him stay until Friday, which kind of upsets me because Colleen doesn’t seem like a doormat kind of girl. None of it makes sense.

Joy and Ward talk about Danny being back. (At Daddy’s request) He asks her to work on a pier deal for him.

Danny shows up creepily at Joy’s house, doing meditation and bullshit. At least he has now showered and shaved at Colleen’s insistence. Joy asks why he’s back which is a GOOD FUCKING QUESTION. But Danny vagues it up and says he can’t say. Joy talks about when her dad (didn’t) die.

We are meant to assume only Ward knows Harold/Daddy Faramir is alive. Danny tells her about seeing him in a “dream” when he was at the hospital. He says he thought Harold was a hungry ghost. Joy doesn’t like that. Unclear if she doesn’t like the idea that her family has neglected her dead father or because he’s a white guy giving simplistic explanations about Chinese traditions. I like to think both.

Joy gives him her and Ward’s offer which is a bunch of shares in the company if he agrees to change his name from Rand. Danny gets mad. Joy is like “but this is millions of dollars!” He walks off in a huff. I think we’re meant to assume it’s the name change that is upsetting to him, but it’s not really clear. I would think Danny wouldn’t want any money at all? (Shouldn’t he be getting back to K’un K’un?)

Maybe Danny’s motivations will make more sense later on but now he seems capricious. I don’t understand why he wants to be part of the corporation, why he would care about the money if he’s a Buddhist monk (even just to say he’d give it to Colleen was odd because it shows he believes he will get money or feels entitled to it). It makes me confused and slightly off-put by the main character. Not a great look.

Thankfully we cut back to Colleen, who I do care about. She talks to one of her students about a cut he has on his face. He’s been doing underground fighting to pay his bills. Colleen says he dishonors himself.

Danny goes to his family’s graves. They all have brand new flowers on them. This makes me wonder who is delivering flowers. Danny must wonder to because he asks the gardener who tells him to check with the office.

Then cut to JERI! It’s Jeri you guys. When Danny approaches him, she nearly maces him in the face which is kind of what I want at this point. She asks him some questions to verify his identity and then explains she has handled the estate since the crash. She tells him he is worth “billions” not millions of dollars. She agrees to work for free--a reference to the end of Jessica Jones--provided that if they win her firm will be on retainer with Rand.

Jeri gives him money for clothes because she says “this homeless, hipster thing isn’t working for” him. It’s my fave line of the series so far.

Joy and Ward do some fancy business stuff. I tune out.

Daddy Faramir boxes with a sparring partner, the third person who knows he’s alive. The lights turn off and an unknown lady says she is disappointed with him for leaving. She makes him kneel. It sounds like Madam Gao from Daredevil and I am excited.

Danny goes to the dojo to find the student Colleen was talking to earlier leading a class. Danny gets mad that he’s allowing some clowning in the class. The kids are rightly like, “who the fuck is this guy?” And make farting noises while Danny shows them how to do a move. This is my second favorite line.

Danny slaps the kid with a stick and Colleen intervenes like “you can’t hit the kids!” Her kids, she says, get beaten on a regular basis and the dojo is supposed to be a safe place. I am so mad at Danny right now. She tells him to leave for good and he bows to her in what I feel is a very condescending manner, but the show seems to think he’s contrite.

Joy takes the fancy client to Metro-General to show the guy a dying boy, who will donate his liver to the client’s nephew. Joy is creepy in this scene and I bet she is secretly evil even though dumb Danny thinks she’s the nice one.

Danny is now at a fancy apartment Jeri arranged for him. But he is restless and can’t sleep. He lays on the floor like a dumbass.

Flashback to K’un L’un. The monks beat young Danny with sticks. There is blood in the snow. The producers love this shot, they think it is really deep.

Ward tells Joy he wants to walk away from Rand. Joy wouldn’t leave.

Jeri gets coffee for Danny, which doesn’t seem like something she’d do. She is having trouble proving Danny is Danny and needs some records. Danny just walks into a record room at the hospital? He’s looking for an X-Ray from a hospital visit when he was a kid. The guy in the office punches him? He’s the security guard from Rand, I think.

Danny does the Iron Fist and punches the guy. It’s not super impressive? Because the guy gets up and attacks him again. You’d think if you Iron Fist a civilian they would stay down for more than a second? At least the fight scene looks faster. Dude sets the place on fire. Danny rescues someone who works there, which is the only heroic thing I think he’s done?

Danny goes to yell at Ward and Joy while they are having lunch. The boys fight. Probably evil Joy takes over the Danny situation from Ward.

Cage fight! Colleen is there. We’re supposed to think she’s looking for her student, but we know from the teasers that she is going to fight so I’m psyched. Colleen gets in the ring as “The Daughter of the Dragon.” A big beefy guy is her opponent. She starts beating him, and then he gets some shots in, but of course Colleen won’t lose. He bites her leg, which the announcer had said was not cool. She gets on top of him and starts punching like a mad woman.

It’s all pretty sweet, I’m not gonna lie. I wish there were more fighting in this show. I know the cage fighting thing is over-done in superhero adaptations (Spider-Man, X-Men, etc) but it’s still fun.

I said it before and I’ll say it again, it would’ve been cool to see Danny become the Iron Fist.

Jeri and Danny meet with Joy, Ward and their team. Joy has lowered her offer and put out a restraining order. I’m still not sure why we should care about any of this.

Blah blah blah. Danny follows Ward to Daddy Faramir’s art deco building. Somehow he’s able to go unnoticed in a COMPLETELY empty building and finds a way into an elevator shaft and shimmy up the side of the building.

Until he is pushed off the building. Yawn.

#emily watches iron fist so you don't have to #recaps #reviews #iron fist #iron fist s1 ep3 #rolling thunder cannon punch

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justanotherwaywarddaughter · 8 years ago

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Spread the Word Around– the Girl’s Back in Town

Title: Spread the Word Around– the Girl’s Back in Town (please tell me someone caught my Thin Lizzy reference here)

Characters: Cas x Sister!Reader, Sam, Dean

Summary: Based on this imagine. Sam and Dean have a half-sister who was recently resurrected from hell. Cas makes some introductions, and the ragtag team sets off to waste some sirens. (I suck at summaries. Sorry.)

Word Count: 5101 (I got a little carried away...)

Warnings: Sassy reader. Flashback from hell (Just one and not really graphic). Dean tries to be a hero. Cas is generally confused. Pretty much the same crap that always happens. A little cheesy at the end. Sorry. Just whip out the crackers and deal with it.

A/N: Very first attempt at a fic, so be gentle. Italics are reader’s thoughts. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.

Tags: @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxydavenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @for-the-love-of-dean @cici0507 @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @mrswhozeewhatsis @kayteonline @idreamofhazel @ilovedean-spn2 @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @your-average-distracted-waffle @drarina1737 @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @mysaintsasinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean

Dammit, I am too old for this! you thought as you realized where you were. The makeshift coffin you had been buried in was well on its way to full decomposition. Getting out shouldn’t be a problem.

Doing a quick survey of yourself, you made a quick mental note to thank whoever had made the decision to bury you in your combat boots rather than some flimsy dress shoes. With a couple of well-placed kicks, the bottom half of the coffin gave way, allowing you to wriggle out of the opening you made. The soil was deliciously cool against your feverish skin as you clawed your way from the shallow grave and exposed yourself to the fresh air on the surface above.

That’s a change, you thought to yourself. The last time you had breathed clean air was right before–no. You refused to think of it. You knew what you were getting into when you made the deal. You were a hunter. You knew the risks, the hazards of the job. You’d heard the stories. The only way you were gonna get out of this with your sanity was to refuse to let it consume you. To lock hell in a cage and never let it out.

You snorted a little at your own joke, morbid as it may be, and decided it was time for a shower and a plan–in that order. You brushed what dirt you could off and shook your head to rid your hair of the dust. Flipping your locks back into place, you started what would be a long trek back to civilization.

Who thought it was a good plan to bury me in a secluded forest 30 miles from nowhere? Okay, maybe thirty miles is a bit of an exaggeration, but come on, people. Make it easier on a girl, would ya? Granted, they probably hadn’t expected you to come back to life. Wait- why didn’t they burn me? I mean, I’m not complaining, but-

Your thoughts were cut short as you neared the edge of the woods and caught a glimpse of a two-lane road peeking from between the trees as the headlights of cars passing through illuminated the night. A quick glance at a road sign put you about ten miles out of the nearest town–somewhere called Hotchkiss, Colorado. What a name, you thought to yourself. “Here I go again on my own…” you grumbled to no one in particular, humming the tune of White Snake as you made your way into town.

By the time you were strolling down Main Street of Small Town, U.S.A.–apparently better known as Hotchkiss–it was near dawn.

You trudged on toward a hole-in-the-wall bar that looked dodgy, even for your tastes. You’d have probably been nervous had you not just woken up from the dead. Being resurrected apparently has that effect on people.

You made your way through the door, eyeing the seedy bartender on your way to the back where you saw a blaring pink neon sign that you were pretty sure was supposed to say “restroom” instead of “estr m.” Nudging the door open with the toe of your boot, you scanned the interior and walked in. Not bad as far as a bar bathroom goes.

Oh, but the day is young, you thought to yourself as you marveled at the lack of vomit. You hazarded a glance in the mirror and, to your relief, you didn’t actually look all that bad. Wetting a paper towel from the rusty dispenser, you set to work cleaning the remaining dirt from your face. You carefully slid your leather jacket—yeah, definitely need to thank whoever chose these clothes—down your shoulders and scrubbed the dirt off your arms.

Why the hell is my shoulder so itchy? If it’s a hell-bug I might just scream, you thought as you gingerly peeled the sleeve of your black t-shirt up.

At least it’s not a hell-bug, you thought as you took in the sight of the angry, red, raised hand print that wrapped around your upper arm. You winced as you thought of what could have left such a mark.

Time to hustle some fool and get out of dodge. If I can get a room at that place off the highway, I can at least demon proof the thing. That ought to buy me some time to figure things out a little, you thought as you realized you still had no idea who or, probably more accurately, what pulled you from the pit or why whatever it was would do something like that. You were quickly becoming more uneasy as you found yourself reverting back to the tendencies you had before— stop it right there.

You made quick work of hustling the poor soul at the pool table, fluttering your eyelashes at him and giving him a wink before sauntering out of the dimly lit bar into the bright sunlight of the new day. Wonder if I’ll ever get used to seeing that again, you thought.

Continuing your way down the road you saw a motel that looked like your kind of place—the kind of place where no one would bother you, so long as you kept to yourself. Instead of going straight there—because who checks into a motel, besides hunters or troublemakers, without bags or belongings?—you made your way to the convenience store across the street. You selected a few items: a toothbrush, some toothpaste, soap, a change of clothes, salt (of course), and a few random food items you happened to see on your way to the register. You gave the cashier a friendly smile as you pulled out a few crumpled bills to pay for your things and left.

Arriving back at the motel, you realized you didn’t have any ID. Okay, so I guess it’s time to lay on the charm thick and hope he forgets to ask… you think as you sashay—there is no better way to describe your walk— up to the counter and put your money down.

Seeing the dumbstruck look on the proprietor’s face–Poor guy; doesn’t take much to get him all flustered–you reach over and grab a key. Room…you look down at the tag on the key 13. How ironic. Home sweet home for now.

As you pushed the key into the lock, you sensed rather than saw whatever the hell it was that just happened to pop up behind you this time.

Just beautiful. Aaaaaaabsolutely wonderful. This is EXACTLY what I needed. So done.

You whirled around to see a man standing there. As you sized him up, he did the same to you, cocking his head to the side and peering at you in a way that made you almost believe he could see your soul.

Jeez. Creep.

“I am not a creep. I am Castiel, angel of the Lord,” he said in his gravelly voice.

Okay, I know I didn’t say that out loud.

“Your inner monologue is quite interesting,” Castiel responded.

“Alright, Professor X, enough with the mind games. Who are you for real, and why are you he-“ Your sentence was cut short as he grabbed your arm.

When you looked up and began to protest, you noticed that your surroundings had changed. Instead of some grungy motel, you saw two guys sitting at a massive table, books spread out all around them.

We are not in Kansas anymore.

“Actually, we are in Kansas,” Castiel informed you.

As you turned to tell him to stay out of your head if he valued his life, the sound of his voice caused the two men to look up, the shorter one grabbing a flask of what you could only assume was holy water and slinging it at you. Wiping your eyes, you gave him what your father had dubbed the bitch face. “Not a demon, you douchebag.”

Those eyes. You knew those eyes. “Dean?” you all but whispered. He stared at you without a touch of recognition, which you expected. “God, you must be Sammy then. What did they feed you, kid?”

Dean ran a hand over his face, “Alright, I’ll bite. Who are you and how do you know us?”

“I’ll tell you the truth, but you won’t like it,” you responded matter-of-factly.

“Out with it,” he grumbled.

“Why yes, I would like to have a seat. How gracious of you. It is a long trek back from hell. No, no I’m fine. Just peachy. Don’t need a breather,” you retorted, every word dripping with sarcasm. “I’m Y/N, and I’m your sister–well, half-sister. Daddy dearest was apparently more suave than we know. My mom was a hunter, and from what I understand, it was a one-time thing. Just before he married your mom. Sowing his wild oats, I guess. Ironic, isn’t it? John Winchester with two hunters before he even knew that the things that go bump in the night are actually real. Talk about having a type.”

You unceremoniously plopped down in an armchair as the brothers—your brothers—looked at you in disbelief.

“So, you just show up after thirty-some odd years, and expect us to believe you? Why now?” Sam asked, furrowing his brow and carding his hand through his surprisingly long hair.

“Well, angel boy is the one who brought me here. I guess we should all direct our questions at him,” you said with an air of annoyance.

Castiel, looking as sheepish as a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, nodded, affirming your story. “She is telling the truth. I found she had been raised from perdition. I assume it was one of my brothers, judging by the scar on her upper arm that is strikingly similar to yours, Dean. I took it upon myself to instigate a family reunion. Was that not good?”

A little warning would have been nice. Or— hey, here’s a thought—maybe a little explanation. Recent Hell escapee over here confused as a chameleon in a bag of Skittles. Your thoughts took a pause as you saw Castiel look to you and tilt his head as if trying to decipher what you meant.

“And that’s another thing! Stay out of my head, angel boy,” you said as you realized what was going on. Turning to the boys, you asked, “Does he do this to everyone?” Your only reply was a nod from the eldest of your brothers as they both returned their attention to their resident angel.

Between the boys’ questions and your own, your “conversation” was beginning to resemble an interrogation. This is getting us nowhere.

“Alright, alright. Angel boy here doesn’t seem to know any more than we do. This isn’t helping. You can’t draw blood from a stone. I’m up and at ‘em now. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” you said, moving from your chair to peer over Sam’s shoulder, leaving a very puzzled Cas to wonder who would ever attempt to draw blood from a stone or would feel the need to inspect a horse’s mouth.

“Looks like you all were working on a case before I got here. Wanna fill me in?” you asked. Please don’t be a wendigo. Please don’t be a wendigo. You hazarded a look at your brothers and saw them looking at each other, Dean with a hardened expression and Sam silently pleading with him to give you a shot– at least that’s what you assumed from his puppy dog face.

Nice, kid. I wasn’t around to teach you that one. Seems to be working, though. Always works for me. Dean is definitely a sucker for it. I’ll tuck that little tidbit of information away for later. May be useful.

Your mental ramblings came to a halt when your brothers turned their gazes on you. You smiled at their scrutiny.

“Tell me. Don’t tell me. I don’t care. I’m just glad to be back topside. Thought I might offer you boys a hand since I’m here.” You began to move around the room noticing the piles of books and scrolls and articles and journals… books and journals and lore, oh my! As you started scanning the scribbles in the notebook that laid open on the table, you groaned. Looking at the map that was spread out at the end of the table, you felt dread creep its way in, curling its way up your spine and settling at the base of your neck.

And now I have a headache.

“I freaking hate sirens. First case back from the dead and it has to be a damn siren,” you grumbled. Your muttered complaint caught your brothers’ attention.

“Just like that? How do you know that thing is a siren?” Dean questioned.

“Well, Einstein, there’s no obvious connection among the victims. None of these guys have anything in common. Different builds, different backgrounds, different ages. That told me to look a little deeper. I was scanning the vics’ patterns of movement thanks to this handy dandy map you all put together– nice touch, by the way– when I noticed that their paths seemed to converge in the same general area, but not the exact same place. Our first commonality. After skimming what I’m assuming is Sammy’s chicken scratch in the notebook, I saw that every guy you talked to was ‘seeing someone special’, whether he called her a girlfriend or whether she was a mistress or whatever. In not so many words, every guy called this girl perfect. I bet you a dollar to a doughnut that if we go back and question all the vics again, they’d say she was the perfect woman. Our second commonality. That led me to siren. All we’re looking for now is means of infection,” you finished, moving to reclaim your armchair.

“And you got all that from two minutes of scanning some notes?” Sam questioned.

“Call it a gift. Some people sing. Some people dance. Some people paint. I think,” you replied with a grin.

“She’s telling the truth. She’s a very loud thinker,” Castiel supplied.

Gee, thanks. I’ll try to quieten down. You turned to look at Dean, who was scowling down at Sammy’s notebook. Oh, ye of little faith. Cas’s gaze flicked over to you, and his mouth quirked into a half smile at your last thought. Understood that reference, did you?

“Look, fellas, we all know I’m right, so let’s either waste this thing together, or you can show me the door, and I’ll take care of it myself,” you said, moving from the armchair to once again inspect the dust covered volumes that filled the shelves. You peered over your shoulder, seeing your brothers having some kind of silent conversation, and thought it best not to interrupt. You continued to peruse the shelves.

I wonder how many years of work went into this. I wonder how many centuries it took to compile all this knowledge in one place. How old is Cas? I bet he has tons of literature stored in that head of his. Wonder if they have anything just for fun. What do the boys do for fun? The last thing I remember seeing them do for fun was play with little green men. Catching Cas’s signature confused-squint-head-turn, you answered him aloud, “Army men. Little plastic guys, Cas. Not literally little green men,” snapping the boys out of whatever other world they entered for their unspoken conversations.

After a stern look from Sam and a well-placed jab from a bony elbow, Dean grumbled, “I guess we could use an extra set of hands.”

“Thanks for the enthusiastic welcome to the team,” your said, your penchant for sarcasm once again rearing its head, “Glad to be here.” Rolling your eyes, you moved back toward Sam’s scrawled notes. “I’ve never seen a single siren with this many hits.”

“Pairs or even trios aren’t unheard of. That’s probably what we’re dealing with, which would explain why the locations we have are close together but not the same,” Sam supplied.

“I don’t care how many of these things there are. We are going now. The local law enforcement is looking for a serial killer, and I’m not about to sit around and give them another victim to add to their profile. Let’s go,” Dean said, grabbing his keys and heading to what you assumed was the door.

Yes, let’s go in blind, not knowing who is who or what is what.

“Dean, you need the last vic’s blood. Do you happen to have some or should we plan on a pit stop?” you asked, your voice thick with sarcasm.

“I’ve got it covered. Get in the car,” he replied, tossing his keys in the air and catching them as he slid in the classic Chevy.

This is not going to end well. Cas, are you still listening? Where’d you go? Let the record show that I totally called it when this hunt goes down the crapper.

The engine thundered to life and you and your motley crew, another Motley Crue if you will, started the four-hour drive toward an abandoned shirt factory where you’d hopefully find some sirens. Hoping for sirens. What has my world come to?

“Now, listen up, boys, I’m only going to say this once.” Invoking your best mom voice, you continued, “Against my better judgement, we’re going in blind here. We’re not even sure they’ll be in the same place. Stay close. Don’t wander off. Don’t try to play the hero–I’m looking at you, Dean. Don’t be a damsel in distress that needs saving, either. Don’t touch anything. We don’t know what bodily fluids could’ve ended up where. Work quickly, quietly, and efficiently. We are Seal Team 6 on this one, guys. No need to be loud or go in guns blazing. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said with a mock salute and a smirk in his rearview mirror.

Someone isn’t used to being the little brother, are they?

You gave him your best stern I-mean-what-I-said face, and turned your head to look out the window, watching water droplets form on the windows and race down, dragging the dust with them as it began to rain. You sensed someone behind you, and before it registered with you that it was probably just Cas, you swung an elbow back to meet whatever idiot surprised you, hearing the sickening crunch of bone on bone. Looking around, you saw Cas holding his nose and doing the head-tilt-what-just-happened look that had become an almost permanent expression since you came into the picture.

“That was not a pleasant feeling. Why did you strike me? Have I angered you in some way?” he questioned as his fingers exuded a faint blue light while he healed his nose.

“No, Cas. I’m sorry. Instinct kicks in sometimes, you know? Well, I guess you don’t know. Maybe a little warning next time? I did just get back from hell, dude. I’m a little on edge here. Although, I guess we’re even now. That’ll teach you to snoop in my head,” you finished with a chuckle. Upon seeing his confused expression once again, you said, “Kidding, Cas. Only kidding. Relax.”

The rest of the drive was silent, save for the soft sounds of Dean’s cassettes and Sam’s muttered complaints when he disapproved of a song or his research–double checking you again, tying up loose ends, trying to eliminate a few surprises here and there– hit a snag.

This silence is driving me up the wall. I am literally going insane. At least hell is still locked in a box for now. Guess that’s a good sign. You shivered involuntarily at the thought of something escaping the cage you’d so forcefully constructed.

“FINALLY!” you all but sang, jumping out of the car as Dean parked a “safe distance” from the action. Man, he is a few fuses short of a full circuit when it comes to that thing. Obsessive much? “Remember what I said, boys. In. Out. Clean. Quick. Please, please, please at least check the girl’s face in a mirror before you stab her. And, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, DO NOT touch anything unless it’s your weapon. Got me?” you turned, seeing heads nodding. “Good. Let’s get this over with.”

The four of you tried to appear nonchalant as you neared the entrance of the old factory, which was situated in a no longer operational industrial district of a small town. At least the sidewalks aren’t busy. No one to hide from. This place is giving me the creeps. Why do monsters always pick the most clichéd hiding places? Abandoned factories, abandoned warehouses, the list goes on. Like, have some creativity. Why can’t we ever visit a nice coffee shop or a cozy little bed and breakfast? You shook your head, urging yourself to focus as Sam expertly picked the lock and the ancient steel door creaked its way open.

Dean stomped his way inside, ignoring your request (okay, so maybe it was more of a command) for finesse. Man, this place is in bad shape. You worried your bottom lip in between your teeth as you entered the building and were engulfed in humidity. The hairs on your arms stood on end as the heat intensified when you began moving further from the door. The only lighting was provided by a busted bulb dangling from the crumbling ceiling. The shadows were endless, giving an eerie quality to the already decrepit building. You tugged at your shirt collar as you began to sweat. Your feet scuffled along the dirty floor as you and the boys, by tacit agreement, split up. The constant drip, drip, drip of some leak nearby combined with your quickened breathing to form a melody all too familiar. Suddenly, you weren’t in the abandoned factory. You were strapped to your usual table, watching in horror as a familiar face approached you dragging a gleaming silver tool chest behind him, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he took in your terror. The smell of blood and burning filled your nostrils. No. You let out a strangled cry and shut your eyes, bracing for what you knew was to come, but instead of cold metal, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, roughly shaking you.

Sam’s voice permeated your consciousness, “Y/N! Y/N! Snap out of it! It’s not real!”

You cautiously opened your eyes, realizing you’d dropped to the ground at some point. You were met with Sam’s understanding gaze as he offered you a hand up.

Damn, I wasn’t this dirty when I crawled out of my grave. “Thanks,” you murmured, clearing your throat.

“No problem. Happens to the best of us,” he quipped, flashing his dimples.

As the sounds of a quiet conversation turned to shoes scuffling and fists connecting with flesh, you both took off toward where the racket was coming from. You ran ahead of Sam, finding Dean struggling against what you assumed was the siren.

“Come on now, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be this way. We were having such a good time,” he cooed, going at her with the dagger again.

“Pity I’ll have to kill you. You’re so pretty,” she said in reply, lunging at him, effectively making his dagger clatter to the ground. He stood in front of her with his hands raised

Do I have to do everything myself? Making sure to employ the caution you had pleaded with the boys to have, you made your way toward the siren, whose back was to you, motioning for Sam to stay back. You nodded at Dean, urging him to keep her distracted as you raised your dagger. So close… Come on, Dean. I just need one more sarcastic comment– a few more inches. You grinned and made your final move toward the monster, plunging your dagger into her back. One down, you thought, shooting Dean your bitch face as you cleaned your dagger on your denim clad thigh, your hands shaking from the combined adrenaline of your attack and your flashback.

“I need to dip this again. What was that I was saying about not being a damsel in distress, Dean?” you asked, moving toward your oldest brother, checking for injuries.

“Hey, I am the hero. Not the damsel in distress, dammit!” he bit back.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” you said, motioning to the body on the floor with your free hand. “There’s no way this is the only one. Where did Cas go?”

You all turned as you heard voices coming from the end of a long hallway. Wearily, you made your way toward the door, this time allowing Sam to take the lead. One a day is my quota on saving the asses of grown men.

You stopped short as the you heard the voice again, causing Dean to bump into your back.

“Hey! Earth to Y/N. Generally, when you’re trying to figure out what makes a noise, you move toward it,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Someone is obviously not happy I had to step in. Get over yourself, stop with your little attitude fit, and listen to that voice. It sounds like me,” you said, your curiosity outweighing your confusion as you moved toward whoever was talking, stopping in your tracks yet again when you saw the scene in front of you.

Can this day get any weirder? I mean, come on. Give me a break here. I’m pulled from hell by God knows who, kidnapped by an angel, introduced to my brothers who had no idea I existed, sucked into a hunt, and now some siren bitch has stolen my face. Can sirens even do that? Literally, so done right now.

Do I really look like that? You thought as “you” approached Cas, reaching to straighten his tie while purring something at the angel, who reddened. Cas hesitantly reached down to cup “your” cheek, and you cleared your throat. “Excuse me, miss. You look familiar. Have we met before?” Taking in her surprised expression you chuckled, “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a camera right now. You should see your face. Oh, yeah. You decided to borrow mine. Let me just show you real quick,” you snapped. Cas backed away from the fake you, edging his way back toward the door.

The fight that ensued was quick, though confusing. God, this has been a freaky day. I can honestly say I never thought I’d be punching myself in the face. At least she didn’t think to take advantage of the fact that she had an angel at her disposal. This could’ve gotten a lot messier. I freaking told him not to touch anything. What does he do? He comes in here and gets infected. I’ll have to go over it with him and see what part of “DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!!!” wasn’t clear to him. He’s a freaking celestial being. You’d think that would lend him a little extra clarity. A solid right hook had the siren down for the count. You pinned her to the floor and turned to look at your brothers and their resident angel. “Can I get a little help here? This dagger won’t do much good since apparently Cas thought it would be fun to have a play date with a siren,” you yelled over your shoulder.

Sam looked to Cas apologetically before taking out his dagger and slicing the angel’s arm with it. He waked over to you and pulled out a mirror. “Just to be sure,” he said with a grin. Satisfied that you weren’t some ancient sea bitch, he offered you the dagger and said, “I think it’s only fair that you do the honors.”

I like him, you thought as you quickly killed the siren. No point in dragging it out, although I will say stabbing myself is an odd experience. You stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans careful to avoid the drying blood of the other siren, and spun around to face your boys. “Can we go now? I’m starving.”

Sam chuckled, jogging to catch up with you. You two walked side by side toward the door, Dean and Cas following.

“Wait, wait, wait. Are we not even going to talk about how Cas’s deepest desire in a woman is you? This is too good to pass up,” Dean asked, elbowing the flushed angel in the ribs.

“We’ll talk about the Cas thing after we get done making fun of you for playing the hero like Y/N told you not to and almost getting your ass handed to you,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Hey! I had that handled! I would’ve been okay!” Dean insisted, pointing his finger at Sam.

“Boys, boys. Relax. There’s plenty of time for this crap in the car. I’m serious. I’m tired and hungry. If you don’t feed me soon, the sirens will seem like a walk in the park compared to me,” you said, once again trying to shoo them toward the door. Soon after walking outside, you caught Cas by the sleeve and pulled him toward you, straightening his tie like the siren did. “So I’m the girl of your dreams, huh? We’ll talk later,” you said with a wink, standing on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

“But I do not dream. I am not sure I understand what you mean. I am, however, looking forward to later, whenever that is. I am eager to share with you what I’ve learned from the pizza man,” the angel said with a small smile, taking his leave.

With a confused scrunch of your nose and a giggle, you made your way to the Impala, sliding in the back seat. I guess this turned out to be a pretty good day after all. “Hey, guys, Cas mentioned something about showing me something he learned from a pizza man. What on God’s green earth does he mean? Is that like angel code for something?” you asked after your brothers had slammed their doors.

Both of them groaned loudly. “Our lives have become a bad Lifetime movie. No– it’s worse than that. Our lives are becoming a soap opera. Our best friend is falling for our long lost sister, who recently came back to life. I’m not sure I can take it,” Dean said, running a hand roughly through his hair. Sammy just smiled and shook his head.

You leaned up to poke your head between the seats and grinned. Oh, yeah. This definitely turned out to be a good day.

Part 2

#spn fanfic #spn family #spnfanficpond #guppy fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel x reader #sister reader #guppy writes

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