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dakotalun · 2 months ago

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What Now? | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: You just got broken up with and you can only think of one place to go.

warnings: none, just some fluffy Eddie moments :)

word count: 1k

a/n: Shit it's been a while. Anyways back to it!

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Everything was going okay recently, not many nightmares and the ones I did have weren’t too bad. Until…

“What?” The confusion is evident on my face and in my voice.

“I just don’t think we’ll work out. I’m sorry,” Jamie’s head is down and their eyes are looking everywhere but at me.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all, it’s me.”

I scoff, “Pfft. Okay sure,” I roll my eyes at their words, “Like every other time people say that line.”

“I’m being serious, love. I love you, I really do but there’s shit that I need to figure out-”

“Then we figure it out together! That’s what it means to be in a committed relationship!”

“I just- I feel like having a partner right now is not helping,” Their voice is distant and soft now.

“I get it. I’m too much, too clingy, too needy, too…everything,” The words sting my throat and tongue as they leave but it’s the truth, it’s what they all mean when they break it off with me.

“Not at all! You’re perfect, in every way, shape, and form. Seriously, it's me. I’m going through shit that I feel like would break us if I kept lying about it to you.”

“So this has been going on for a while?” I see their face change for a second then go back to sadness.

“Yeah, it has. But I thought it was nothing-”

“How long?”

“What?” Now it’s their turn to be confused.

“How long have you known and been going through this?” My face is steel and I show no emotion.

“Since Lolla.”

Lollapalooza was in August, it’s November. They’ve known this and not said anything for 3 months! Lying to me about everything for so long and I had no idea. I don’t even know how to feel right now. I begin to grab my bag and stuff my shit in it before getting up off their bed.

"Y/N," They reach for my hand to stop me from leaving.

I pull away before they can touch me, "Don't. I- I need space," I leave their room and head for the front door, looking back at the fuzzy orange cat lying on the back of the chair as he always does for the last time.

"Bye Cheerio," I twist the knob and walk out of the apartment I had felt so welcome in before.

I can hear the thunder once in the elevator, realizing that I can't return home because I promised Robin the apartment, assuming I'd be with Jamie all night. I try to think of who else I could stay with tonight.

Chrissy maybe? No, she’s at Jason’s place for the weekend. Oh, Nancy should be free right? I reach for my phone to text Nancy but see a Google Calendar notification on the screen.

Nancy Double Date with Johnathan and Roomie! Damn, I guess she’s out too. Maybe Robin would understand me coming home tonight, if I told them what happened?

As I think about what to do and where to go, rain starts to pour down, soaking through the loose shirt I had put on.

Why does this keep happening to me? How do I always end up in the rain with no place to go? I think back to last summer when Kris, Sophia, and I got into it and my brother’s friend had to come rescue me from myself and the rain. I laugh at the thought that this is just going to be my normal from now on.

As I walk, my feet autonomously begin to head to the only other person whom I trust and who might be able to help. I don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m standing in front of the building, not under the protection of the awning even though it’s only 3 feet in front of me.

I take a deep breath before stepping forward and deciding this really is the only option I have left. I’m thankful for the covering once I’m actually under it. I dial apartment 203 and wait for the voice of my best friend to spread through the old speaker.

"Hello?" His voice is low and gravelly; he must have just woken up.

"Eddie, It’s Y/N. Can I come up? I-" I sniffle and before I can continue I hear the lock moving and the door unlock so I can enter. I didn’t even realize I had been crying until then.

I quickly open the door and make my way through the small maze to get to his place on the second floor. I can feel my wet socks and the weight of my bag has risen tremendously since I left Jamie’s. I'm gonna need to check and make sure my computer is okay once I get inside his place.

Soon I reach his door and he's standing there against the frame, in a tshirt and sweats, his signature look. The expression on his face is one of concern and fear. Something I’m all too familiar with.

"Hey," My voice is weak and not at all how he normally hears it. I’ve never cried in front of him and we’ve been friends for over a year now, strange.

"Shit, Y/N you're soaked! Get the fuck in here," He moves out the way and closes the door behind me as I walk into his living room, making sure to take off my shoes before going onto the carpet.

He comes back with a towel and wraps it around me after taking my bag and setting it at my feet. I mumble a thank you before taking a seat at the edge of his couch, completely on the other side from where he normally sits.

To my surprise he sits next to me and rubs my back, comforting me and drying me at the same time. We sit there in silence for a few minutes. I'm tired and not in the mood to fully explain what happened yet, so neither of us speak until I realize I should probably tell him why I came to his place so late and without warning.

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#eddie stranger things #munson #eddie munson #eddie my love #eddie my beloved #female reader #oneshot #smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #eddie x reader

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myownwholewildworld · 1 month ago

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WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

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ismoke2much · 1 year ago

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Spinach Salad

05. November 2023

Salad Base 203 cal

Dressing 71 cal

Total 274 cal

Salad Base

125g Spinach (29cal)

120g Cucumber (18cal)

2 (15g) Spring Onions (5cal)

120g Button Mushrooms (26cal)

1 (135g) Apple (73cal)

50g Carrots (18cal)

½ (80g) Bell Pepper (34 cal)

Dressing

1 tsp (15g) Pesto Basil Arugula (68cal)

20ml Herbal Vinegar (3cal)

Seasoning

Seasoned Salt

Black Pepper

Dried Parsley

Paprika Powder

Cumin Powder

Ground Garlic

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stoat-party · 1 day ago

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Every New Vegas Companion’s Approximate Birth Year (Part 2/3)

Dean Domino — 2020

I say he was born in 2020 because that year was the WORST and he’s the WORST.

He’s giving late fifties.

Raul — 2047

Canon — he gives the year in dialogue.

This man LIES, he was only like 30 when he got ghoulified! Why is he mentally 73?

Ghoul lore is inconsistent and I will gladly die mad about it.

Rex — 2071

He’s 209.

Lily — 2078

She’s 203 and was 75 when taken by the Master.

Dog/God — 2134

Absolutely no backstory beyond what we can assume by virtue of being a nightkin.

Fallout begins in 2161 and the Master was collecting people from vaults before that. I think they were a teenager at that time because they’re in a perpetual state of transition between impulse and maturity.

Joshua — 2227

He describes himself as “young” when he left New Canaan in 2246.

Edward was 20 and it makes sense for Joshua to have been a little younger.

Mormon boys typically leave for their missions at 19.

Cass — 2244

She’s 37. (Born three years after Fallout 2.)

Arcade — 2245

He’s 35, but I have him born in the prior year because he’s a November and I will die on this hill.

Waking Cloud — 2248

She has three children and the youngest is six.

Christine — 2252

Making her a grade or two above Veronica makes sense to me.

Does the Brotherhood have grades? Whatever.

Veronica — 2253

She’s 27.

Boone — 2255

He’s 26.

I swear I thought he was 60 my first playthrough.

Follows-Chalk — 2262

Tell me this man isn’t a teenager.

He YEARNS. He’s directionless but he YEARNS.

ED-E — 2275

My toddler baby prince darling, so baby so small

ED-E II — 2277

He was auto-manufactured sometime soon after the Divide blew up.

He only got his memories once ED-E made it to Nevada, but we don’t know when that was.

Roxie — 2282

It’s a Ship of Theseus question whether she existed and in what form before the Courier got there, but for simplicity I’ll just say 2282.

Part 1

Part 3

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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago

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Crimes of Essex Proportions (Broadchurch)

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Alec's stuck on his case. You just so happen to know exactly what he needs to know.

CW: murder investigation, body carving, Alec being tired as usual, reader knowing all the right things inexplicably

Broadchurch Tag List: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @yeethaw13 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“Alec, are you alright?”

Your beloved DI is currently sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands and papers strewn about haphazardly across every single surface in your kitchen (and the lounge room too). The man groans in deep frustration and when he finally pulls his head up from his hands, you have to refrain from giggling at the red marks across his face where his hands just were.

“I just- I don’t ken what the fuck this means,” he replies, not really answering the question but also answering the question for you at the same time. A half-answer. Ah, not alright then, you gather. “I just hate bein’ stuck- I hate it.”

You hum, taking a look over a sheaf of papers being weighed down by his ‘best boyfriend’ mug that he says he hates. He never uses a different one though, you’ve noticed. The papers are full of notes from the coroners. There are some pictures you probably didn’t need to see, but you’re immediately pulled in by the numbers carved on the corpse's chest. ‘203.’ Hmm, interesting. The rope tied around the bodies’ hands also piques your interest as well. You can’t be certain, but- it looks as though it has been woven by hand.

“What don’t you get, sweetheart? Maybe I can help? I know I’m not supposed to, but- you know. Fresh pair of peepers, might be worth something.”

Half of Alec’s face is smushed against his hand, and he pulls the spare seat out for you to sit down at the table with him. He fumbles around with some of the papers before showing you a slightly grainier picture of another body.

“He was found in 2020- there was a- erm, number carved into the skin. Two-hundred- and a little wooden carvin’ of a whale. Cold case, the locals never solved it.”

You look over the image. You know it’s not quite appropriate, but you kind of want that wooden whale. Oh, hang on.

“That’s a sperm whale,” you say, brows furrowing as you pull the image closer to your face. “And- we don’t even really get those here in Broadchurch. Been a few sightings in Scotland, though.”

Alec looks between you and the paper before he interrupts your rambling.

“Hang on- do you- hang on, do some of these things make sense to y’er?”

You blink, dragging your eyes away from the papers to look at your boyfriend. He’s looking at you expectantly, and your mouth opens and shuts a couple of times before you mutter out an- “erm- y-yes?”

“Well, okay- so- here’s the thing,” you say, putting the pictures down and averting eye contact. “Oh, I don’t even know where to start. Okay, so, you know Moby Dick, right?” Alec nods, clearly not following you.

“Well, it was based on this real whaleship called the Essex, and, erm- in 1820 they set sail on a whaling expedition,” you trail off, scratching at your forehead after noticing the look on Alec’s face. “This has a point, I swear- and 2020 was the, uh, the two hundredth anniversary of them setting sail. When did you find this new one?”

You picked the newest victim’s image back up again- “And what’s this rope made from?”

Alec shuffles through some notes before replying.

“Erm- newest victim was found… November twen’y by the beach,” he pushes his glasses back up his nose as he looks for the other requested information. “Twine was made from…. Hogs hair.”

You scoff. Of course. This was just… there was no other way. It couldn’t be a reference to anything else.

“One of the crew mates- Benjamin Lawrence, uh- well when they were sunk by the sperm whale and those that survived were stuck out at sea in their little bitty whaleboats- Benjamin used the time to make a thing of twine with his own hair. I think… just as something to do? I mean, they were stuck out there bobbing along for ninety-three days and eating each other when they started to pop off. What else did he have to do?”

Alec was staring at you, unsure what to make of all this. You brandished the images in front of him.

“See- look, ‘203’ carved into the skin for the anniversary, the hog hair hand-made twine, the date the body was found, the hand-carved sperm whale? Surely there couldn’t be another explanation for all this?”

Alec looked unsure, but based on how he’d appeared when you came in earlier, this was the best lead they had.

“I’d be looking at people with a really big interest in nautical stories. Maybe someone in the historical society? Oooh, I wonder if a distant descendant is living here somewhere from one of the eight survivors.”

“How do y’ken this stuff?” He asked, noting some things down. “I mean- it’s not exactly a rivetin’ subject, is it?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, admiring the images of the hand-made twine.

“Oh, I dunno. I think it’s pretty interesting. A special interest of mine. I’m just… glad I channelled that into creative expression and not… murder.”

“Well, yes, there is that,” Alec replied. He got up from his seat and pressed a hard kiss onto your forehead. “I still don’t ken how y’put all that t’gether,” he said in disbelief.

“Could you, erm- would you mind comin’ into the station later, providin’ a statement f’er all this?”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him suggestively, delighting in the way he laughs. He almost sounds embarrassed. Almost.

“You taking me in, officer? Hmm? Have I been naughty?” A flush creeps up his neck, and oh, isn’t that interesting. Hmm. You might have to see what that’s about later. Maybe he’d like it if you were a little naughty sometimes. “Course I will, love. Just let me know when. You can borrow my books too if you like. I have a few on the Essex.”

“That would be great,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the skin. “We could leave now. Sooner we get this case sorted, sooner I’ll be able t’sleep again.”

Makes sense. You peck him on the cheek, grab your coat and find your couple of books from the bookcase in the home office and meet him by the car. It’s crazy to think that your little special interest is helping out with a criminal investigation, but you were happy to help out in any way that you could. And like Alec said, the sooner this whole thing was solved, the sooner you’d get your boyfriend back.

As expected, once all the connections were made between the Essex and the bodies, it didn’t take long for Alec and Ellie to solve the case.

Another criminal behind bars, and a slightly easier sleep for Alec.

And another year passes on the anniversary of the sinking of the whale ship Essex.

#A/N: unofficial companion piece to Denaliwrites' “Dance on a Tightrope of Weird”#A/N: in which two authors infodump about their uber specific special interests onto their unwitting readers #A/N: fun fact- i have a tattoo for the Essex that I got on the 200th anniversary of the ship setting sail and also a shelf full of books #broadchurch s3 #broadchurch s2 #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy fanfic #alec hardy #broadchurch #david tennant #alec hardy fanfiction #alec hardy one shot #alec hardy imagine #alec hardy x you #alec hardy broadchurch #alec hardy fic #broadchurch fanfic #broadchurch alec hardy #broadchurch fanfiction #di alec hardy #alec hardy imagines #alec hardy drabble #alec hardy x reader insert #inside man #david tennant fanfiction #david tennant x reader #david tennant imagines #alec hardy x yn #alec hardy x gn!reader #alec hardy oneshot

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jaimemes · 2 months ago

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oh before i forget. heres that timeline i compiled regarding cedric and adeline. keep in mind that THIS TIMELINE ASSUMES ALL DOCUMENTS ARE REAL AND CORRECT. which. tbh. i dont think they are.

Timeline

1979

March 27, 1979 — Adeline Hargrove was born in Spikemuth to Mavis and Arthur Hargrove

1981

January 5, 1981 — Cedric Smith was born in Wyndon to Emily and Abraham Smith.

1982

1983

1984

Fall 1984 — Adeline Hargrove enrolled at Ysgol Gymraeg Casnewydd as a Year 1 student

1985

1986

1987

1988

1989

1990

Fall 1990 — Adeline Hargrove enrolled at Ysgol Gyfun Rhydfelen as a Year 7 student.

1991

1992

1993

Summer 1993 — Adeline Hargrove begins receiving paychecks from a local pub in Spikemuth.

1994

1995

May 25, 1995 — Adeline Hargrove finishes compulsory education and graduates from Ysgol Gyfun Rhydfelen.

1996

1997

Sometime in 1997 — Adeline Hargrove moved to Hulbury to live with Desmond Morris

1998

April 30, 1998 — Adeline Hargrove married to Desmond Morris

1999

2000

August 24, 2000 — William Hargrove was born in Hulbury to Adeline and Desmond Hargrove

2001

2002

2003

2004

February 11, 2004 — Kaitlyn Hargrove was born in Hulbury to Adeline and Desmond Hargrove

2005

2006

2007

January 5, 2007 — Flynn Hargrove was born in Wyndon to Adeline Hargrove and Cedric Smith

2008

May 4, 2008 — Adeline Hargrove filed for divorce from Desmond Hargrove

June 2008 — Adeline Hargrove moved to 534 Sanford Streets, Apt. 203, JM17 3RQ, Spikemuth, Galar

2009

October 11, 2009 — Cedric Smith married Adeline Hargrove

July 9, 2009 — Adeline Hargrove boarded one-way flight to Anistar City, Kalos.

2010

April 17, 2010 — Adeline Hargrove boarded one-way flight to Spikemuth, Galar.

November 23, 2010 — Esper Hargrove was born in Wyndon to Adeline and Cedric Hargrove.

2011

2012

2013

2014

2015

2016

2017

Late 2017 — Cedric Hargrove was added to the lease agreement of 534 Sanford Streets, Apt. 203, JM17 3RQ, Spikemuth, Galar

2018

June 28, 2018 — Dental operation for Flynn Hargrove

Fall 2018 — Esper Hargrove enrolled in Milton Primary School as a Year 4 student

Fall 2018 — Flynn Hargrove enrolled in Spikemuth High School as a Year 7 student

2021

Fall 2021 — Esper Hargrove enrolled in Spikemuth High School as a Year 7 student

2022

November 15, 2022 — The Second Darkest Day occurs. Flynn Hargrove is missing, presumed dead. Juno Myers is confirmed dead.

#USERZ #pkmn irl #rotomblr #HALblocked #future sight #tw child death mention #esper tag

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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Private equity finally delivered Sarah Palin's death panels

Tonight (Apr 26), I’ll be in Burbank, signing Red Team Blues at Dark Delicacies at 6PM.

Remember “death panels”? Sarah Palin promised us that universal healthcare was a prelude to a Stalinist nightmare in which unaccountable bureaucrats decided who lived or died based on a cost-benefit analysis of what it would cost to keep you alive versus how much your life was worth.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Palin was right that any kind of healthcare rationing runs the risk of this kind of calculus, where we weight spending $10,000 to extend a young, healthy person’s life by 40 years against $1,000 to extend an elderly, disabled person’s life by a mere two years.

It’s a ghastly, nightmarish prospect — as anyone who uses the private healthcare system knows very well. More than 27m Americans have no health insurance, and millions more have been tricked into buying scam “cost-sharing” systems run by evangelical grifters:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/02/health/christian-health-care-insurance.html

But for the millions of Americans with insurance, death panels are an everyday occurrence, or at least a lurking concern. Anyone who pays attention knows that insurers have entire departments designed to mass-reject legitimate claims and stall patients who demand that the insurer lives up to its claim:

https://kffhealthnews.org/news/article/khn-podcast-an-arm-and-a-leg-how-to-shop-for-health-insurance-november-24-2021/

The private healthcare sector is designed to deny care. Its first duty is to its shareholders, not its patients, and every dollar spent on care is a dollar not available for dividends. The ideal insurance customer pays their premiums without complaint, and then pays cash for all their care on top of it.

All that was true even before private equity started buying up and merging whole swathes of the US healthcare system (or “healthcare” “system”). The PE playbook — slash wages, sell off physical plant, slash wages, reduce quality and raise prices — works in part because of its scale. These aren’t the usual economies of scale. Rather the PE strategy is to buy and merge all the similar businesses in a region, so customers, suppliers and workers have nowhere else to turn.

That’s bad enough when it’s aimed at funeral homes, pet groomers or any of the other sectors that have been bigfooted by PE:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

But it’s especially grave when applied to hospitals:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/21/profitable-butchers/#looted

Or emergency room physicians:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

And if you think that’s a capitalist hellscape nightmare, just imagine how PE deals with dying, elderly people. Yes, PE has transformed the hospice industry, and it’s even worse than you imagine.

Yesterday, the Center for Economic and Policy Research published “Preying on the Dying: Private Equity Gets Rich in Hospice Care,” written by some of the nation’s most valiant PE slayers: Eileen Appelbaum, Rosemary Batt and Emma Curchin:

https://cepr.net/report/preying-on-the-dying-private-equity-gets-rich-in-hospice-care/

Medicare pays private hospices $203-$1,462 per day to take care of dying old people — seniors that a doctor has certified to have less than six months left. That comes to $22.4b/year in public transfers to private hospices. If hospices that $1,462 day-rate, they have lots of duties, like providing eight hours’ worth of home care. But if the hospice is content to take the $203/day rate, they are not required to do anything. Literally. It’s just free money for whatever the operator feels like doing for a dying elderly person, including doing nothing at all.

As Appelbaum told Maureen Tkacik for her excellent writeup in The American Prospect: “Why anybody commits fraud is a mystery to me, because you can make so much money playing within the guidelines the way the payment scheme operates.”

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-26-born-to-die-hospice-care/

In California, it’s very, very easy to set up a hospice. Pay $3,000, fill in some paperwork (or don’t — no one checks it, ever), and you’re ready to start caring for beloved parents, grandparents, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles as they depart this world. You do get a site inspection, but don’t worry — you aren’t required to bring your site up to code until after you’re licensed, and again, they never check — not even if there are multiple complaints. After all, no one at the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) has the job of tracking complaints.

This is absolute catnip for private equity — free government money, no obligations, no enforcement, and the people you harm are literally dying and can’t complain. What’s not to like? No wonder PE companies have spent billions “rolling up” hospices across the country. There are 591 hospices in Van Nuys, CA alone — but at least 30 of them share a single medical director:

https://auditor.ca.gov/reports/2021-123/index.html#pg34A

Medicare caps per-patient dispersals at $32,000, which presents an interesting commercial question for remorseless, paperclip-maximizing, grandparent-devouring private equity ghouls: do you take in sick patients (who cost more, but die sooner) or healthy patients (cost less, potentially live longer)?

In Van Nuys, the strategy is to bring in healthy patients and do nothing. 51% of Van Nuys hospice patients are “live discharged” — that is, they don’t die. This figure — triple the national average — is “a reliable sign of fraud.”

There are so many hospice scams and most of them are so stupid that it takes a monumental failure of oversight not to catch and prevent them. Here’s a goodun: hospices bribe doctors to “admit” patients to a hospice without their knowledge. The hospice bills for the patient, but otherwise has no contact with them. This can go on for a long time, until the patient tries to visit the doctor and discovers that their Medicare has been canceled (you lose your Medicare once you go into hospice).

Another scam: offer patients the loosest narcotics policy in town, promising all the opioids they want. Then, once their benefits expire, let them die of an overdose (don’t worry, people who die in hospice don’t get autopsies):

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2022/12/05/how-hospice-became-a-for-profit-hustle

You can hire con artists to serve as your sales-force, and have them talk vulnerable, elderly people into enrolling in hospice care by convincing them they have nothing to live for and should just die already and not burden their loved ones any longer.

Hospitals and hospices also collude: hospitals can revive dying patients, ignoring their Do Not Resuscitate orders, so they can be transfered to a hospice and die there, saving the hospital from adding another dead patient to their stats.CMS’s solution is perverse: they’re working with Humana to expand Medicare Advantage (a scam that convinces patients to give up Medicare and enrol in a private insurance program, whose private-sector death panel rejects 13% of claims that Medicare would have paid for). The program will pay private companies $32,000 for every patient who agrees to cease care and die. As our friends on the right like to say, “incentives matter.”

Appelbaum and co have a better idea:

Do more enforcement: increase inspections and audits.

Block mergers and rollups of hospices that make them too big to fail and too big to jail.

Close existing loopholes.

They should know. Appelbaum and her co-authors write the best, most incisive analysis of private equity around. For more of their work, check out their proposal for ending pension-plan ripoffs by Wall Street firms:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/05/mego/#A09948

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Burbank, Mountain View, Berkeley, San Francisco, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: An industrial meat grinder, fed by a conveyor belt. A dead, elderly man is traveling up the conveyor, headed for the grinder's intake. The grinder is labelled 'HOSPICE' in drippy Hallowe'en lettering. It sits in a spreading pool of blood.]

Image: Seydelmann (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpghttps://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GW300_1.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #cepr #medicare advantage #medicare #hospice #aca #aging #death panels #fraud #california #preying on the dying

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captain039 · 2 years ago

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Craving the wild side

Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: AOB, mentions of medical things, mentions of needles, mentions of abuse, feral alphas, light swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, mental health issues

Feral alpha AU

Case file No.5643

Cases name: Dean Winchester

Cases D.O.B January 24, 1979

Cases age: 45

Background:

Dean Winchester (feral alpha) was found in the underground raid in a place called ‘Ascended’ raid was completed by head officer Jody Mills (alpha) and her team on November 14th 2022. Dean Winchester (feral alpha) was placed in quarantine and given appropriate medical attention before moved to the Alphas corp building 203 on January 10th 2023. First assign to Dr Harper (female, beta) unresponsive to methods and treatments remains in a ‘feral’ state transfer required. Second assigning to Dr Freeman (male, beta) unresponsive to methods and treatment, remains in a ‘feral’ state transfer required. Now on head of the Dean Winchester case Dr Y/L/n, waiting for report and outcome

Signed by head of department Carver Edlund

You walked quickly down the white hall, this was your first day on the Winchester case. You had your tablet in hand and your assistant Charlie behind you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked and you kept your eyes ahead. You were nervous, hell you might have a breakdown before going in, but you were determined to help this alpha.

“I am sure” you nodded heading to his room. The guard nodded his head in a greet and opened the door. Charlie said her goodbyes and departed as you were checked for anything on your person before heading into a small room. You didn’t know what to expect, all feral alphas were different. Dean Winchester sat in the corner where his bed was. His mattress was on the floor and his frame was obviously thrown against the wall and discarded. You gulped slightly thankful for the glass between you both.

“Morning Mr Winchester” you said through the mic but he didn’t respond.

“My names Dr Y/L/n, I’ll be your-“ you stopped your sentence when green eyes met yours. Your breath got caught in your throat as he stared at you.

“Your head officer” you finished nodding as you tapped at your tablet. His hair was unkept and long, his beard obviously grown, he was also wearing no clothes, but the way his legs were kept everything covered. You read over the other Drs notes, not many treatments worked with him, especially with the glass there. One of the Drs went in, got a response just not the best one and ended up in the medical department, while Dean was tranquillised.

You stood nodded to the guard who opened Deans door. You walked in minding the thrown bed and kept your distance. Dean was watching you like a hawk, he didn’t blink often and made sure to watch every movement you made as you grabbed a discarded pillow and sat down.

“I am Dr Y/l/n” you said.

“I’m a part time soon to be full time officer here I’ve worked three cases in my last five years you will be my fourth” you hoped to gain some conversation with him.

“I live nearby the facility at a farm house owned by my parents, I have 3 cows, 2 sheep and 6 chickens there and a dog named Champ” you watched his eyes peek with interest and you took it as a good sign.

“Dean do you know your age?” You started questions. He nodded and you felt a little relief go through you.

“Do you know where you are?” You asked and he nodded again.

“Some of these questions may be hard or triggering, I will take in account your response and try to avoid them or the topic for the time being till you’re ready” you said tapping on your tablet to get the questionnaire.

“You were found in a place called ‘ascended’ one of the lesser known underground black markets” you stopped checking to see his response but got nothing.

“Officer Jody Mills got you and five other alphas out, did you know or have any relation to the other alphas there?” You asked and saw him tense but shake his head.

“Ok, it says you were a pleasure alpha, house alpha, as well as use and abuse as well as fighter” you winced at the words.

“Are these correct?” You asked and he nodded.

“Do you know what ascended is? In the underground establishments?” You asked and he nodded.

“Did you have many omega owners?” You said and he snapped his head to you. You jolted a bit in surprise as his eyes darkened. You noted that quickly and went to move onto a next question but it was too late. The alpha had crossed the room quickly and pinned you under him, hand on your neck. He didn’t squeeze though just kept his hold as he stared you down. The guards came in shock guns aimed as you held a hand up to stop them.

“Don’t!” You said looking at the alpha. His eyes were swirling with feral emotions, he was breathing harshly but he didn’t harm you.

“He won’t hurt me” you said quietly hoping you were correct. He leant down swiftly, pressing his nose to your scent gland before a disapproving growl left him. The guards shot them and stunned him off the shock going to you also. You jolted a bit your breath getting knocked out of you. Dean was quick to recover though as a guard went to help you up, the alpha body slammed him to the ground and began to punch him. Despite the helmet Dean kept punching knuckles bloodying as he went. He was torn off, shocked again and you were dragged out. You were pissed smacking the guard off you.

“You idiot!” You snapped and the guard was taken aback.

“He wasn’t hurting me he was trying to find my scent!” You glared at the guard through the mask and sighed.

“He growled Dr” she said.

“Because he wouldn’t be able to smell me due to the implant” you sighed rubbing your neck from the shock that went through you.

“He hasn’t had progress in months! He was responsive to me and now we’ve thrown him in a corner!” You sighed making her leave the room. You looked at his unconscious form on the bed and sighed quietly.

Next part ->

#alpha Dean #Dean Winchester #x reader #aob #supernatural #au #feral alpha #Dean x reader #alpha Dean x reader #feral au

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