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streets-in-paradise · 2 years ago

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Best Friends Till the End - Andy Barclay x (fem) Childhood Friend!Reader - Part 2

Masterlist

Word Count 3.800 (aprox)

Relationships: Andy Barclay x Childhood Friend!Reader (reunion with some love at first sight undertones)

Characters: Andy Barclay, Childhood Friend!Reader, Kyle (mentioned), Chucky (mentioned).

Warnings: Andy being a sloppy hunter, me taking inspiration on the fake cop interview/research scenes in Supernatural to imagine this.

Summary: Andy has to endure his most hated part of the work involved on the hunt for Chucky, but the tedious task of talking to people will lead him to an unexpected result through the guiding of a very cooperative kindergarten teacher who seems fascinated with him.

Notes: I know i said this was gonna be just two parts, but there may be a part 3 because I want to write the romance actually developing.

Tags: @losersclubisms

Starting searching schools was Kyle’s idea, Andy wasn’t as convinced of that new method to find cursed dolls because it was too exposing of his terrible social skills. Those rounds would happen sometimes and were usually just the startpoint for it. They weren’t killing any threats directly and that would always make him impatient. He wasn’t a big fan of any part of the work that didn’t involve emptying the load of his gun on Chucky and on that occasion he was more nervous than ever because it was their first time searching in a kindergarten. Frightening little kids was not in his plans that morning, but there was a lead on that area and that was the nearest educational facility on the map.

Resembling bureaucracy there wasn’t as hard as he thought, his sister took care of dealing with the director while he was supposed to sneak and start the talk with the teachers. For that he had no idea of where and how to start, since he was used to letting Kyle lead the interviews. His awkwardness must have been evident at that moment, because one of them approached him by mistake thinking he was a lost relative of some kid. There was some intense staring going on in her part, as if she was trying to decipher him somehow.

Neither of the other passing people in the hall stopped in his presence yet you, the visibly busy teacher carrying her morning coffee before returning to class, directed straight towards him. Not only did you want to help who you guessed as a probably institutionally lost adult hoping to see one of your colleagues about a child, the sight of him intrigued you. There was something oddly familiar about that man that you weren’t able to figure out and you wondered if he was perhaps the father of one of your students waiting for you. Only the blatant shock in his face to the assumption you presented made you notice a very awkward mistake.

“ I’m sorry.” You apologized in an exquisitely sweet tone that came out of you by accident in some subconscious push. “ I guess I got it wrong, so many people move around every year.. All the faces mash up in your memory after some time.”

He smiled in agreement, a short grin while briefly making eye contact. From up close your hunch kept intensifying as you noticed another powerful detail: his beautiful hazel eyes. You could swear you have seen those before, but couldn’t remember where. Of course, you kept any new assumptions to yourself, but the stranger could tell that you were fixating on him.

Andy would have preferred not to start with you because he didn’t want to either creep you out sounding like a weirdo or make a fool of himself due to awkwardness. Your interest was making him nervous, fearing he could be coming up as suspicious but also keeping a more personal motive for that reaction.

A woman he found gorgeous at first sight was showing unusual interest in him and it was distracting. Keeping eye contact with you was a titanical task, as it was to keep staying in character.

" It's no problem, miss. " He replied while trying to remember which excuse he was supposed to use there. " I'm here as part of a non-scheduled evaluation. In the light of some strange events happening across the state, these kinds of routine things are being accelerated. Would you mind if i make you a few questions?"

You had no clue of which events he was referencing, but wouldn't ask to not look bad.

" Sure, why not?"

Your cute smile emphasizing the answer afterwards made him feel nice just because of how sweet you were to him. For once, following a false clue would have been satisfactory instead of annoying and frustrating. He didn't want to find a Chucky in the hands of one of your preschoolers, especially remembering his tendency to attack authority figures getting in his way.

His questions didn't surprise you as much as he expected, even when those got weirdly specific. It was as if nothing he could say would sound odd to you. The incredible predisposition on your part encouraged him to ask things without fear, but when getting into the topic of classroom toys you got wary for the wrong reasons.

" ... I see, you must have read my file and you are trying to test me. I don't mind, it is understandable. Many people before you have tried to discredit my professionalism because of my very personal career choice. "

It was all turning out so good, but he had to do a fuck up.

" I don't mean to offend you. "

" I monitor the relationships that my class establishes with toys very closely for practical reasons that come in with my formation. '' You explained in a more defensive stance, keeping distance from an assumed detractor. "My college thesis was on developmental psychology, about the bonding with toys in different stages of childhood... Why can't i apply my findings without people on the field assuming that I am insane?"

Andy was seriously intrigued by your phrasing. Were you making files about toys and playtime observations? Keeping an exhaustive vigilance of what the children were doing for some science bullshit thing? It was way too perfect, checking on your notes could save him and Kyle a ton of home visits.

" I think it is fascinating. Dolls are our first friends, we experiment the world with them as little children."

Some frankly adorable excitement visibly grew on you to the indicative of validation.

" It's a sacred bond, the one a child forms with their favorite doll. I consider that part of my job is providing the framework for it to develop in a healthy way. "

Your words were getting dangerously close to his point and he was about to lose the filter again.

" What happens when it doesn't?" He asked without thinking. " I haven't read your thesis, but I would like to know your stance on the opposite case."

" Children who have internalized trauma, I have seen the abuser get incarnated on the doll during their playing." You added in response. `` Is it for them that I am so careful, through the toys you can spot the abuse. Keep the dolls vigilated and you may make a difference in some kid's life. "

That psychology ramble got him. He was thinking that maybe you wouldn't believe that there was a killer doll out there, but you showed a glimpse of the most tender understanding he received in a long time coming from a normal person.

It was wonderful, Andy felt moved by your passionate concern and his attraction was subtly growing at every instant being spent with you.

" This institution is lucky to have you, I'm feeling under qualified to evaluate you just while talking to you. It's obvious that you are a magnificent professional, consider this a mere bureaucratic formality. "

The compliments got your sweetness back and that made him feel blessed.

" Wow, that has to be the quickest evaluation I ever passed. " A nervous giggle followed your joke. " Are you sure you don't want to pass by my classroom? We have a scheduled activity with toys today. I asked the kids to bring their favorite doll and we are going to make a round where they all will be introduced to each other. "

He felt lucky, for once fate was throwing a good one for him. Easy access to what he needed and the attention of a captivating woman all in the same operation.

" That sounds perfect."

There he was, following you like some awkward mess of a man while wondering what the hell was he supposed to do on the possibility of finding Chucky. Open fire wasn't an option, so there had to be some other way of avoiding the little bastard's escape. While remaining attentive of his details of interest, he still kept follow of the classroom activity.

The children clearly adored you and that was beautiful to see. You were brightfully happy around them and that would make you look even more attractive in his eyes. It was eating him up and the odd sense of intimacy he was feeling with you in every little thing was making it worse. You couldn’t be just one random beautiful woman, there was some weird connection going on between you. Like if there was an invisible thread getting you closer, you seemed to understand each other way too well for a first meeting.

Answers were spontaneously presented during the round of toys. It was your tradition for that activity to start introducing your own favorite childhood toy that you would bring for the class, a sweet detail of yours for the little ones. He saw the Scooby Doo plush and fell into the happiest yet most shocking realization. Andy recognized you as his childhood friend, one of the purest memories left on him. The surprise was noticeable on his face, which made your mind turn back on its tracks and go back to your previous hesitation.

It was a dream come true, he needed to know if it was truly you and deep down you were hoping him to figure it out.

" Does he still have the same marks we drew over the washing instructions?"

Time stopped for you at the listening of that question, there was only one person who could be saying that.

" Andy?"

You stared at your old friend with the biggest smile, holding back tears because there were children present who could get worried of your crying.

The whisper of his name got confirmed when he smiled back sweetly. After all those years of contextually forced separation, you stumbled across each other by some work of fate. The changes of time turning you into adults made your mutual remembrance of faces get lost on your grown up looks, but the revelation made it somehow obvious.

Everything made sense and he wasn't the only one amazed with the discovery. Getting lost in the beauty of his eyes quite a few times before figuring out the mystery was the price to pay for your curiosity.

It was unbelievable to think that he was there. That shy and quite handsome man was your dear Andy, the child hero that once saved you from the human monster inside his doll. The friend whose posterior sacrifice served as your lifetime inspiration, the one you waited for years while growing up. Your painful separation hurt more than Chucky, the guilt over leaving him behind in the afterwards scenario never left you be. As a grown up you tried to find ways of reaching him, but after some failed attempts you simply gave up because he was nowhere to be found and you thought that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see you.

If you were never able to forgive yourself, why would he forgive you? You were kids when he assured you that he wasn’t mad of your choice, he had plenty of time to realize you shouldn’t have let him down lying about Chucky.

“ Hi,(y/n). I can’t believe this is happening.” He happily saluted you. “ I’m happy to see you, friend.”

You wished you could forget all professionalism and trap him in the tightest hug, the weight of more than two decades crushing you through just one moment while you were supposed to pretend to be cool. Instead you stood up, leaving the plushie momentarily on your seat spot, while gesturally inviting him to follow you.

“ Where were you? I tried to… Seeing you again is so wonderful, I need to make things right.”

His cheeks turned slightly rosy when you took his hand as you were about to formally introduce him to the children.

“ Please, let’s give a warm welcome to my friend Andy. He is my dearest play pal from many years and he is here with us for…”

That was the moment where you realized you really didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t be any sent authority of the school district. If that was the case, you would have stumbled across each other before. You had no idea of where he had been, he had no social media presence and searching for him was like trying to find a ghost. As far as you know, he could be an agent of the FBI, a cop that went undercover, a superspy or a serial killer.

The kids must have confounded your sudden stop with an inquisitive silence, since one of them quickly finished your sentence.

“ To see our friends! “

The man was very thankful of the kid’s unawareness serving as a scape for his lack of excuses.

“ Well, Oliver. That is why we are all here for today and I can’t wait to meet them all as you just met two of my best friends from when I was your age.“ You sweetly replied, then glanced back at Andy. “ I hope you have missed me and Scooby as we missed you … and welcome to my classroom.”

A happy choir of excited kids in their loud salute for him interrupted and he couldn’t help smiling, even if he was really nervous. That was really cute and he was so scared of ruining things with something that could frighten them and you.

“ Hi, I am glad to be here. I do miss my two old companions of adventures and I would love to hear all of you talk about your toys.”

A girl holding a minion plushie made him the awkward, but somewhat expected question.

“ Where is your friend, Andy? We all have one, Miss (y/l/n) brought hers.”

You both stared at each other as if disgrace itself was being called to class.

“ Well, I have her.” He added, clearly teasing you and succeeding on bringing out a light giggle from you. “ I had a doll, but I lost him. The problem is that sometimes it comes back and I have to search for him. It is really important because it’s not safe for him to be out there alone, he is a sick toy.”

That was the way in which you found out Chucky came back for him, various times for what you could catch of his sugarcoated explanation. Emily seemed moved by it. Understandably unaware of the implications, she must have found it sad.

“ Do you want us to help you look?”

“ I got a clue saying he is around here, but I can handle the search on my own. I’m some sort of expert by now.”

A reunion that you waited for 27 years and, of course, the little redhead bastard had to be involved in it. How was it even possible? You stayed alert, you have been checking on all the signals of a comeback for years in your strategic position. None of your kids could be a new owner of Chucky, they would have come to you and you would have spotted him right away.

“ Andy is a toy doctor.” You quickly interrupted, decided to collaborate with anything he needed on the matter. “ He became one to treat his very sick, very bad friend. So.. he is here to make free check ups on all your favorite toys and make sure they are not infected with the same disease.”

The subject inspired curiosity among the public and you had to come up with a story for it together.

“ What is it?” Jake wondered, then followed by Thomas. “ How do toys catch it?”

Andy was so not ready for that, but he had to carry on or risk causing panic.

“ The Fever of Damballa, it is a terrible illness that makes dolls go mad.”

“ They don’t behave like they are supposed to, they become bad. An infected toy says tons of bad words and they get horrible laughs.” You followed, completing his startup lie. “ They do scary mischief and they make you play scary games. Villain stuff, but not funny like in Despicable Me: dolls get bad like the Green Goblin. They get feisty and disobedient, never want to go to sleep or listen to what your parents say. ”

“ The cause is still uncertain. Some doctors think it is a tropical flea that gets inside the doll through the hair and the stuffed material. That’s why red haired dolls are higher risk, the flea prefers red hair because it is red one and that serves to hide better. “

You glanced back at him, showing amazement for the elaborated explanation.

“ Can all toys have it, or is it just the reds?” Sophia continued.

“ Red haired dolls are the biggest risk population, around 98% of the registered cases… which is a lot. If you have a red haired doll I have the obligation of checking for symptoms …because it can infect all the other pals.”

He made up that last part to make it sound urgent.

“ Can they pass it to us?” Camila closed the round of questions. “ If I have a sick one, should I stay away?”

“ Not only they can, the disease would make them want to pass it on to you. “ Was your conclusion, presented ahead of Andy. “ The flea jumps from one body to another like this.”

You put one hand on top of your friend’s forehead, simulating the gesturing you once saw Chucky make when he was trying to possess him. It was understandable for you to repeat the rules you knew, but he didn’t have time to explain to you that you were giving outdated advice.

“ Then the doll would say some funny words, because the flea is making it delusional from the fever, and that’s when it will make you feel very very sick.”

Everyone wanted to get their toys checked, but Sophia was very worried for her mermaid Ariel doll and begged to go first. Andy felt as bad as you for the concern of the cute child, so he did his best to comfort her knowing hers wasn’t a danger. The tenderness he showed to her warmed your heart in a special way, cuteness having you about to suspire if you wouldn’t have been careful enough.

“ Is she gonna be alright?” The little girl asked him while he pretended to act as a parody of a medical checkup. “ She has never been sick, not even when I catch a cold.”

“ I see and I think she is a very healthy girl.” Andy followed, making her smile proudly to later smile back. He then stared into the lifeless happy expression of the Little Mermaid one last time before concluding. “ I don’t think she could turn bad any time soon. She is in excellent condition, with a friend who obviously gives her a lot of love. “

He handled the doll back and she hugged it as it meant the world, because to her it did and he knew that. Sophia thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, a gesture that reminded him of his own love language of childhood.

Emily and her Minion were next, but Jake and Spiderman were arguing the position. She was saying that hers was more urgent because a minion could turn purple and evil if it would get sick, while he insisted on being priority because his superhero had a red suit and got once infected by Venom. It was simple children’s bickery mixed with rambling about their favorite things that was directed at the so called toy doctor, to which he found a simple answer.

“ Would you want to be my nurse, (y/n)? I need to put all these patients in order.”

You were feeling like children again, as if the whole thing would be a game of toy hospital you would be playing together.

If Andy had reasons to believe Chucky could be hiding behind any of your kids, then all your assumptions were wrong and you had to face the fact that you were as unprepared as the last time. Knowing he was there for the doll and not for you was slightly disappointing, but you couldn’t blame him. All you could and should do was help him save a family, he didn’t have any obligations of wanting to see you.

None of the children brought any Good Guys to be examined, but that didn’t mean asking them would be a waste of time. Like in your case, they could have a friend, a cousin or sibling that could be a Chucky owner. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, until Camila got very upset due to some questioning coming from her classmates. She wasn’t holding any toys, a detail that you missed before because you were frankly too emotionally distracted with Andy.

“ I brought Oscar, but he left. I was explaining the classroom rules to him but he didn’t like that.” She explained to you, the mediator of the conflict. “ He said that no bitch was gonna boss him around.”

The relaxing happiness you were previously sharing faded. Andy’s expression transformed immediately to the sign of alarm and you instinctively grabbed his hand as a reminder to calm down.

“ CAMILA, YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!” Sophia corrected her, horrified.

“ I didn’t, Oscar did.” The little girl insisted, then glanced back at Andy. “ Is he sick? I would bring him to get checked, but I don’t know where he is.”

A blatant and unstoppable frustration filled you, years of borderline paranoid attention were pointless because Chucky got to one of your groups anyways and you didn’t notice. The name switching was a new detail, you wondered how many things must had changed.

“ Sweetheart, you have never told me about him before. Since when are you friends with him?”

“ I found him last weekend.”

Andy needed to talk to you in private but wouldn’t want to leave the kids alone either, so he sent a quick code text to Kyle in order to get ready. While he was doing so, you got the ultimate proof of the enemy’s comeback.

The classroom rules poster was vandalized, a ‘ FUCK YOU, BITCH’ written on angry red traces with a crayon.

#andy barclay #andy barclay x reader #alex vincent #alex vincent x reader #chucky 2021 #child's play #chucky fanfiction #andy barclay fanfiction #chucky series #chucky #chucky season 1

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jikookiekosmos · 3 years ago

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Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?��

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

#bts #bts smut #bangtaninn #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung au #taehyung scenarios #detective!au

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anne-with-an-evangelion · 4 years ago

Text

When it comes to talking about DBH characters who get character growth/a redemption arc, Hank is the obvious person to bring up, and there’s the obvious fandom fixation on Gavin, but what about Adam Chapman? He has an arc in the game that sort of disappears in the fray when compared to other characters but he has the literal journey that everyone wants Gavin to have. But even in comparison to others I feel like Adam completely stands on his own as a good character with so much potential as far as his past, future and motivations.

When Kara, Luther and Alice first show up at Rose’s house, Adam is outside chopping wood and literally turns them away, saying his mom isn’t just too busy to talk to them - she doesn’t WANT to. Of course this isn’t the case and Rose invites everyone inside. And Adam is PISSED.

Also he’s wearing a shirt that says Average Casual Guy which is so funny

Adam is young, probably around twenty, he doesn’t seem to be away at college or anything, rather Rose says they just farm their own food to sell at the market and that’s how they scrape by. Sounds stressful, especially with a bunch of Androids living in their house. It’s obvious Adam doesn’t want them around and definitely doesn’t want any new deviants showing up, after the call for revolution that occurred with Markus’s Stratford Tower speech.

As the scene goes on, you get more information about the Chapman’s and the things they’ve been through. Rose is obviously an incredibly strong and compassionate person to be helping the Androids to this extent, but there’s no denying it’s putting her and Adam in danger. When Kara walks in on their right in the kitchen, Adam is telling Rose they need to stop getting involved, that it’s not safe, and he’s not going to back down about this issue anymore.

His outburst over this is pretty understandable, in the context of the game - even when Kara first shows up asking for Rose, Adam’s first question is, “What do you want with her?” Which I feel like isn’t just about whether Kara is an Android or not, but whether she’s someone there to bust them for having Androids in the house. And of course he’s right, because the cops come by like five minutes later to search the house. They are putting themselves in danger, and even though they’re doing the right thing, it must still be a strain on their family... and it’s clear they’ve fought about this many, many times.

So, yeah, his rejection of his mother’s desire to help the Androids comes from a place of fear for their safety, which is understandable to an extent. But he isn’t just afraid of deviants and doesn’t want to help them - he really seems to hate them, which shouldn’t be an understandable view to hold within the context of the game and the allegory of the Civil Rights Movement, and then the language he uses is like, yikes...

It’s not, I understand they’re in trouble but I’m upset you’re putting us in danger, it’s something else - and of course Adam is really mad, and maybe saying something he doesn’t necessarily mean, but this does seem to reflect his view of the Androids as a whole. At this time, Adam honestly doesn’t see them as being people, which probably makes it even harder for him to understand why Rose goes so far out of her way to help them.

I mean, she sets up trips across the river which have been obviously successful, she drives them to Jericho, she has some kind of contact with or understanding of the revolution leaders because she’s able to direct Kara on where to go, and though not much is explained, her brother (and Adam’s uncle) is obviously totally cool with Androids because he’s willing to help them too. She’s clearly been doing this for a while, or at least is proactive enough to take action and do whatever she has to. She’s even willing to take care of Alice once they get across the border. Literally the hero of DBH but I digress. Adam doesn’t think Androids are worthy of the rights they’re asking for, especially when compared to humans.

What follows this is one of the most intriguing lines in the scene (to me)

What does this mean?? We know his father passed away, and Rose says that ever since then, Adam just boils over sometimes. Maybe it happened suddenly, an accident possibly - or did he get sick? Were Androids involved somehow, like what happened with Cole? What was Rose’s husband’s opinion on Androids? Things have changed since he passed, for sure, but still. Did he hold that same “Androids aren’t alive” opinion that Adam is now expressing? Or is it just that Adam thinks if his dad were still here, he’d be able to solve this issue somehow? Maybe his dad was a politician who ran on pro-Android laws and after he died Adam has become disillusioned with his parents’ worldview ??? Maybe his father died helping Androids too and that’s why Adam rejects them so much. Or maybe his dad hated Androids so much he would have never allowed Rose to help them, and so they wouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place, in Adam’s mind. (Edited to say that apparently it’s canon that Adam’s father died of cancer though I can’t recall it specifically being said in the game, so that is definitely a sad addition to things☹️)

I’m literally just making shit up lol but I really do personally hesitate to give Adam some kind of super traumatic backstory or make him bigoted against Androids because the Black characters are already treated poorly enough in the game when it comes to those things. I’m inclined to think this is just a general outburst of missing his dad and wanting him to be there to ‘fix’ things or at least, maybe, mediate the conversation between Adam and Rose. Idk, it’s cool to speculate on, especially when other characters are given super deep dives into their literally nonexistent canon backstory, it definitely feels like there’s so much that’s unsaid here.

Obviously there’s a couple of different ways the gameplay can go after this - but one other thing I wanted to bring up was what happens if you end up with Kara at the border crossing and run into Rose and Adam there. After talking to Rose in the bathroom and making a plan to all go to her brother’s house, Kara talks to Adam outside-

He says he doesn’t agree with Markus’s methods (which is like.. ok.. a whole other conversation in itself)(EDIT: so apparently the answer is different if you choose the ‘pacifist’ route for Markus- Adam says that ‘seeing what Markus is doing made me realize you’re alive’ !!! Which is cool that it changes and def reflects something different about his character than if his response is always the same!) So anyway he now believes in Androids’ right to freedom and happiness. What made this come about?? Was it after interacting with Alice and Kara and Luther?? I have a theory that Rose knew Alice was an Android as soon as they showed up but just played along - maybe when Adam realized there were Android children mixed up in this too, he began to change his view on things, maybe see himself in them, or see things through his father’s eyes, wanting to protect his family and child. Maybe that’s the lens through which Adam begins to see it. It could be the peaceful pacifist revolution Markus is leading, if he is- but even if not, Adam still changes his mind.

Or, maybe after everything that’s happened, he just realizes he was being kind of an asshole about the whole thing and when it came down to it, a government that was literally going door to door searching for Androids and the people who might help them? That’s probably not the type of place Adam wants to live in. It’s definitely interesting to think about his motivations and what brought him to this point.

And even though it’s sad for Kara and Luther, I find the ending where Alice ends up with the Chapman’s really.. bittersweet-ly satisfying in a narrative way. Found family .... though of course it sounds like they were all planning on meeting at Rose’s brother’s house so they would have all been together anyway☹️

🥲I feel like I had so much more to say but yeah!! I think he’s such a cool interesting character and I love that he ends up on the side of the Androids in the end. And what happens after they escape safely??? Does he start helping deviants too like Rose does? Are they going to settle down and form a commune of sorts with the other Androids who escaped? I love the idea of that loss in Adam’s life being filled up with the addition of new people who care about him, and a little sister in Alice, since he seems to be an only child. The possibilities of it all...

Adam has a sad sort of story to his past, he dislikes Androids and then comes around, he has so much potential for what happens after the revolution - and he’s not the only one!!! There are so many characters in the game that deserve a closer look but I just love Adam..

#dbh #adam chapman #he’s just really compelling guys #like. he actually has an Android friendly redemption arc. in canon !!!#Gavin whomst????

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

Text

Emergency! Part 2

Part 2 – Accidents

Summary: Dean and Cas of Squad 51 discover Dr. Kline involved in a car accident. The car accident killed another driver involved, but orphans the daughter. The Reader has to cancel her and Dean’s date night for her to go into work. Squad 51 is on the rescue again, a house fire. The night begins to calm down, Dean is off finally and heads to the reader’s house for much needed R n R.

Warnings: Smut (P in V, Protected and Unprotected sex (always use a condom)), Language, Dirty talk, Car accidents, scary situations, mild angst, fluff

Word Count: 1,925

Mobile Masterlist

Emergency! Masterlist

a/n: The timing of these is not a daily event, it can bee weeks/months apart. Sadly, I’m jumping it ahead, I just don’t know how far ahead. Joys of me being creative.

They sat on his couch, starting out watching Netflix. Then it turned into a make out session.

Their lips danced with one another, their tongues gliding across one another.

Her hands guided down his chest and stomach.

The mere contact caused a moan to escape his throat to which she swallowed down.

They pulled away finally for air, their lips plump and swollen.

“If we keep this up, I’m not gonna last.”

“Neither am I, Dean. I’m getting to the point I want you in me, and fuck me so hard…”

His lips crashed into hers once again, only kissing her harshly quick. He pulled away.

“Keep talking dirty like that sweetheart, and maybe I will.” He growled.

“Fuck me Dean, I want you in me, now.”

He picked her up, kissing her again. Her legs wrapped around his middle as he carried her to his room.

“As you wish sweetheart.” He says between kisses.

Jack Kline, one of Rampart Emergency hospital’s youngest doctors. He does specialize in surgeries, baby deliveries, and even orthopedics. He does a little of everything at the hospital.

He drove down a residential street to get to work. He approached a four way stop. The intersection was pretty empty. He was the only one there. He looked both ways, despite cars parked on the curbs, and the summer season with the trees low branches fully bloomed of vibrant green leaves, he could see no car coming down from either direction. Determining it clear, he slowly accelerates. Only to be hit on the passenger side, the impact hard enough to knock him out.

Dean slowly pulled out of her, her legs trembling from the sheer force of her climax slowly calming down.

“You okay sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah. More than okay.” She hums.

He smiles, and works out of the used condom to throw it away.

He heard her phone vibrate on the nightstand next to them.

She groaned.

“I got it for you.” He says. Getting up to get it. He hit answer.

“Y/N Y/L/N’s phone, Dean speaking.” He answered.

“Hi, my name is Dr. Singer, tell Ms. Y/L/N we need her to come in if possible.”

“Sure thing, I’ll let her know.”

The phone call ended quickly.

“Work?” she asked.

“Yeah, Dr. Singer, they need you to come in.”

“He didn’t say why?”

“No, because I’m not you.”

“Well, I’ll shower really quick and then I better go.”

She gone into work, heading for Bobby’s office.

“What’s up Bobby?” she asked walking in.

“I called you in here because, one someone called in and two…Jack was involved in a car accident.”

“How is he?”

“Just some bumps, bruises, minor cuts. Nothing major. But the other car, the driver died on the scene, and orphaned a seven-year-old girl.”

“Does he know?”

“He doesn’t. I almost don’t want to tell him because he will beat himself up over it.”

“We all beat ourselves up over loss. It’s normal. But he needs to know the accident wasn’t his fault. My brother’s a cop, he said the accident wasn’t his fault. That driver ran a stop sign and caused a chain reaction.”

“Still, you know how Dr. Kline can be.”

She nods.

“Now, your just doing Nurse Ruby’s 6am-6pm shift. She was scheduled to be in the ICU working the Eastern halls, you better head up there.”

“Will do, see you later.”

Bobby waves her off with a kind smile.

Back at Station 51 the very next day, Dean came in at his usual time. So far a quiet morning.

“So how are you settling at the new place Cas?”

“It’s great, closer to the station, it has extra room. My neighbors are pretty friendly. One of them, Meg, she happens to work with Y/N at the hospital.”

“Wow, small world.”

“Yeah. How about you? How’d your date with Y/N go last night?”

“She had to go into work, a nurse called in. She called me on her break letting me know that. But the date went well.”

“Think there’ll be another date for you guys?”

“She and I are planning on seeing a movie tomorrow night since I’m off two days.”

“You two, I swear are meant to be.”

“We’ve only had two dates Cas, slow down.” Dean chuckled.

The stations alarm going off.

“Station 51, Squad 51, Station 64 Squad 64, and station 72, structure fire. 623 North Lions street.” Said over the alarm’s intercom.

“Here we go, another one.” Cas says, jumping into action, running to the squad truck.

“Another one.” Dean says. Getting in the driver seat roaring the engine to life and everyone in the station left to the location.

“Jack, it was not your fault.” Bobby tried to soothe the young doctor.

“But a girl is orphaned because of me.”

“Because of her dad driving recklessly. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Y/N pitched in. “My brother said he ran a stop sign according to eyewitnesses in the area. He was speeding, and ran a stop sign.”

“We can fix wounds as if they were nothing. But how can we fix this? How can I fix this?”

“You’re not gonna let this go are you?” Bobby groaned.

“Not until I know someone can take care of this girl.”

“I’ll go make calls, you go home Kline, you need to rest.” Bobby insisted firmly.

“But—”

“Jack, go home. We got this.” Y/N says.

“Fine, just, call me. Keep me in the loop. Please.”

“We will, no go home and rest man.” Y/N says as Bobby left the office.

Jack left with a slump in his shoulders, as he walked back out of the hospital to take a cab home.

“Who told him? I knew this would happen if he found out.” Bobby asked.

“Think it was Abaddon. Don’t think she was thinking it through, as always.”

“How’d she find out in the first place?”

“She stood outside your office when I saw you the other day. My guess she overheard.”

“I’m gonna have a talk with her, she needs to watch it, or it could lead to major HIPPA Violations.”

“Alright, well, my shift is technically over, and my three day weekend starts. Need me for anything before I go?”

“No, go home, rest up. have a great weekend.”

“Bye Bobby, see you Monday.”

But she couldn’t make it out the door fast enough when a squad brought in a familiar face.

“Cas?!”

“We had a fire, a back draft shot him across the property.”

“What are his vitals?” she asked, kicking back into nurse mode.

“BP 130 over 85, breathing labored and shallow,” Dean began reading off of his chart. “Head injury sustained, pupils uneven and dilated.”

The emergency medical staff managed to cut Cas out of his clothes. And she saw a bruise right around his ribs.

“Possible broken ribs, get him x-rayed, and lets get other scans to find any bleeding. Especially of his head. Stat, go.” Y/N ordered.

The medical team taking Cas to radiology to get scans necessary to find anything else wrong so they can work on fixing him up.

Y/N turned her attention to Dean.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“He knocked me out of the way, Gabe opened a door, we thought the fire was under control. And he knocked me out of the way just as the backdraft happened.”

“Dean, he’s fine. Just banged up. It could have been worse, but it’s not. He’s fine.”

“Son,” John says, tearing the couple’s attention.

He saw Dean’s distraught expression as his son turned to face him.

“Y/N, can you take him home. I can have Michael drive the squad back to the station. But I don’t want him alone tonight.”

She nods. “I can do that Mr. Winchester.”

“Please, call me John. And thank you.”

She managed to guide Dean to her car, and she drove them to Dean’s house.

“Jack, I have good news.” Bobby says.

“What’s that?”

“That girl, she has an aunt that lives up north. She’s coming down to pick up her niece. She got full custody of her yesterday.”

“That’s good, at least she has family to take care of her.”

“It is.”

“’Scuse me.” A sweet girl’s voice was heard behind the doctors.

“Hi sweetie, how are you doing?”

“Good, I heard I’m gonna live with my aunt. I’m just so happy and I just want to say thank you.”

“Thank you? Really?” Jack asked.

“Yes, my dad wasn’t a good dad. He was mad at me for getting an D on my report card, he hit me a few times and we were going home.”

“Did everyone in your family know your dad abused you like that?”

“Yes, my aunt always threatened to take me away from daddy if he hit me again or hurt me again.”

“Then I’m glad to know you’re going to be safe from here on out.” Jack says with a smile.

The girl smiles back and gives the young doctor a hug.

“Thank you again doctor.” She says sweetly.

“It’s no problem sweetheart.”

Just as Y/N and Dean turned in for the night, Dean lied down flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Dean,” she says quietly. “You okay?”

“That could have been me.” He says just above a whisper.

“But it wasn’t, and you know he’s going to be fine. Meg updated me and Cas is going to be okay.”

He nods.

She turned towards Dean, kissing him on his cheek, then down to his jaw line.

He closed his eyes to her giving him this attention.

Just as her lips pulled away, he turned his head to her meeting her lips with his in a sweet kiss.

Their lips moved in perfect sync with each other.

Dean moved, hovering over her, his hips between her legs, humping against her clothed core. Pulling a moan out of her.

“I need you sweetheart.” He says quietly.

“I’m here baby, you’ll always have me.” She says, bringing him down to kiss her more, deepening the kiss.

He worked his boxers off of him, she also worked out of her panties.

He lined at her entrance, and gave her a glance.

“I’m on the pill, you’re good.”

He slowly pushed the head of his half hard cock through her soaking folds until he was fully seated in her.

Their lips meet again in a loving kiss as they slowly moved against each other. His hips guiding him out slightly with each thrust. Hitting her sweet spot with calculated and angled thrusts.

She met up with his slow pace, a thin sheen of sweat building on both of their faces and bodies.

His pace began to speed up just as his breathing picked up as well.

Her hips were beginning to jump out of rhythm.

Their lips pulled away, but only slightly, just ghosting over the surface as their breathing began to pick up faster.

“Dean,” she whined.

“I’m almost there, I got you baby girl.”

With three more thrusts her walls clamped down hard around him, milking him of his release. Their thrusts slowing, getting them through their high.

His hips came to a stop, still fully seating in her as he rested on his elbows, brushing her hair from her sweaty face.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m so good, you?”

“Better, now that I’m with you.”

“Get some rest Winchester, I’m not going anywhere.” She says, holding him close. Feeling him relax in her hold as they cuddled.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too Dean.”

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @evansrogerskitten, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @mlovesstories, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @akshi8278, @lyarr24, @anotherspnfanfic, @flamencodiva,

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wildriot · 4 years ago

Text

Steter Week Day 5

It’s midday Saturday when Scott calls and begs Stiles for a favor. Stiles, two days into his pre-heat, is fully prepared to deny him, but those puppy eyes are lethal, even through a phone, and he ends up agreeing to swap patrol shifts with Scott. So he changes his clothes and heads out and is pleased when Peter joins him five minutes is.

It’s stupid, really, and irrational, but of all the alphas and betas in the pack, Peter is the one that gets his proverbial hackles up the least. Maybe because, unlike the rest, Peter doesn’t use his dynamic as an excuse to act like an asshole – instead relying on his own personal charm to earn the title.

Stiles thinks at some point, a tally of all the shifts he’s spent with Peter running through his mind, that this might not be so bad.

Forty minutes later, they’re running for their lives.

“Fucking hunters,” Stiles growls, slogging his way through the mud. “Always ruining everything.”

He’s out of breath, legs and lungs protesting the flat out sprint of the last who even knows how long. The adrenaline’s starting to fade, the tepid beginning’s of exhausting slowly rearing it’s head and, to be perfectly honest, he really doesn’t think he can go much further.

Ahead of him, leading the way and dragging him along, Peter snorts. “You have awfully low standards.”

Because focusing on Peter is better than thinking about what awaits them if they stop moving, Stiles takes offense. “Excuse you,” he says, grip tightening on Peter’s hand as something – probably a tree root (they are in the Preserve, after all) – snags his ankle and nearly takes him down. “I will have you know that my standards are reasonable. Very reasonable. So reasonable, in fact, that they spend their time reasoning with everyone else’s stupidly high expectations.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes!”

Peter just hums and Stiles silently flips him off. In his head, obviously, he’s way too tired to do it for real.

But Peter must sense his intentions anyway – all that werewolf-ism...ish? – and glances over his shoulder. His eyes are glowing, too-bright in the darkness, and momentarily leaves Stiles blinking away white spots in his vision, and yet he still catches the tightening of Peter’s mouth, the way he seems to look past Stiles, deeper into the spaces they’ve left behind.

“Can you hear anything?” Stiles asks, trying to ignore the way his heart starts to bleed ice through his veins, sticky and cold. He doesn’t think Peter can, over the rain and the noises they’re making, and Peter shakes his head.

“No,” he says.

“But…?”

“But we have no idea what that thing was. We can’t stop.”

Which is true. Very true. Hunters were one thing, but some sort of Lovecraftian hell-spawn was another thing entirely. Just those few seconds in it’s presence, when it had entered the clearing where Stiles and Peter had been ambushed by a group of hunters, before it turned it’s attention to them and given them the chance to run, had been terrifying. Stiles couldn’t even describe it. The monsters they’d faced, human and not so much, had always scared him, but it had been the sort of fear that he could push aside and largely ignore until the problem was dealt with.

This, whatever it’d been? It’d been fucking primal.

And he never wanted to feel that again.

So he shuts up, digs deep for the extra reserves he totally doesn’t have, and picks up the pace. He doesn’t drop Peter’s hand. He tries not to think about how, if Peter hadn’t been so quick to grab him, and Stiles had been left alone to race through the wet gloom of the Preserve, he’d most likely be dead right now.

They run for what could be another ten minutes, could be another hour. Stiles has no way of telling, phone dead and waterlogged in his pocket and he’s struggling. The wet clothes are weighing him down, feet slipping across the forest floor more than before, and it’s only getting darker.

He’ll be damned if he says anything, though. He cops enough shit from the pack as it is, being human and omega and thinking that he has what it takes to keep up with werewolves and alphas, because they’re jerks like that and he’s just stubborn enough to deny them the pleasure of being right even if it kills him.

Humans can do incredible things when their lives depend on it. He saw that youtube video about that women that stopped a car from hitting her kid, yes he did, and he swears to god that if she could do it then so can he--

“Just a little further,” Peter says.

“Thank fucking Christ,” Stiles gasps.

Forget it. He’s done. Absolutely done, no energy left, no sir-ee.

Another handful of minutes and then they break through the treeline, staggering out into long grass and open skies. The rain falls harder here, with no trees to act as a measly cover, which is just perfect, because it means Stiles can go longer than a couple of seconds without blinking the water out of his eyes and wishing his hair was still short, if only so that it didn’t stick to his face like cold seaweed.

Then Peter’s tugging him close, almost angling him so that Stiles is tucked into his side, and Stiles looks up, probably to ask him a flat why – they’re both soaked, the gesture is useless – when he sees what else is in the clearing, and instead ends up asking, “What?”

“We should be safe here,” Peter says, and starts forward, like he’s expecting Stiles to be okay camping out in some old house that looks, even in the dark, like it should’ve been torn down years ago for health violations.

Which, fine. He wouldn’t be wrong – Stiles has always been freakishly adaptable to most things, and running for their lives during a freak storm is definitely a Thing – but, and Stiles is just putting this out there, really?

“With our luck?” He half snorts, half splutters. “Doubt it.”

“So young,” Peter mutters, shaking his head. “So cynical.”

“So old,” Stiles parrots, delighting in the way Peter tenses – so predictably – then relaxes. “Such an asshole.”

Peter barks a laugh that’s drowned out by a sudden deluge.

By unspoken agreement they both leg it across the remaining bit of what was likely once the front lawn and huddle underneath the overhang.

Stiles hugs his arms around himself while Peter fiddles with the lock. Kicks the toe of his shoe against the ground, bites his lip.

He must zone out, he thinks, because he jumps when the door swings open with a rusty shriek and Peter doesn’t look amused, only concerned, and doesn’t say anything smarmy before ushering Stiles inside.

“It’s safe,” Peter insists again, like he wants Stiles to believe him, and Stiles kind of wonders what his scent must be broadcasting, to get that tone in Peter’s voice. “I promise.”

So Stiles looks over his shoulder at Peter strangely, a sort of ‘what gives?’ and sets off down the hallway.

The house is clearly old-fashioned. All narrow and tight instead of the open and spacious. It’s too dark to make out any detail, the little bit of diluted moonlight painted across the floor through the broken windows glinting dully off what Stiles assumes are bits of glass, maybe some metal fixings.

Peter is a steady presence at his back, a hand on his back. The alpha is tense, strung tight like he’s on high alert and that’s making Stiles stress out even more, which is not fun and he kind of wants to tell Peter to chill out, only… This is Beacon Hills. It’s the middle of the night. Some creepy monster thingy is haunting the Preserve, and they’ve just spent the evening running for their lives.

In a town like this, you relax and you’re dead.

In fact, a part of Stiles is actually, stupidly, rather pleased with the attention Peter’s giving him. He feels like a priority, something important and it’s been so long since he felt like that…he just knows that’s the omega in him speaking, and firmly tells himself to knock it off.

“What is this place, anyway?” Stiles asks., figuring that, having nearly a decade and a half on him, Peter probably knows. He doesn’t mean to be quiet, rarely ever is, yet something about this house reminds him of the Juniper Mausoleum he had to pass every time he went to visit his mom’s grave.

Peter is silent for long enough that Stiles labels it as hesitation, and opens his mouth to pester, when Peter finally talks.

“It’s my grandparent’s house.”

Stiles actually has to repeat the words back to himself before it sinks in.

“Wait what?”

Peter huffs a sigh. “Of all the things – yes Stiles. My grandparents lived here. Happy?”

“No. I’m wet and I’m cold – what the hell happened to this place?”

“…”

“Peter?”

“They died.”

Well, Stiles considered, wincing. Didn’t that just make him feel like a dick.

“Was it…?” He isn’t sure what he want’s to ask. Was it the fire? Hunters? What?

And it’s like Peter reads his mind. As the man maneuvers them up a flight of waterlogged stairs and into a room that Stiles is happy to see has all it’s window intact, Peter talks.

“It wasn’t the fire,” he begins. “Though my father, Talia and I were never completely convinced that Hunter’s weren’t involved. They died when I was twelve. Car accident, head on collision with a truck.” He pauses, falling silent, and Stiles stands still as Peter drops his hand and moves away, heading towards what Stiles thinks might be an armchair. “When they died… there are wards up around the clearing, still are. When they died, this place, the house, the garden, everything, vanished. Like it had never been here. We spent years looking. We could never find it.”

He watches Peter run his hands over the fabric and imagines the man must be trying to finds hints of familiar scents, doubts he’ll find anything after so long.

Stiles is lost for words. They’re friends now – inasmuch as they wind up beside each other at pack meetings, and have a joint order at an Italian place that Stiles loves but can’t afford regularly and eats whenever he joins Peter for research at his apartment – and Stiles has seen him with all manner of expressions and yet, this is maybe the most human Peter has ever been.

So he says, “I’m sorry,” and Peter waves his hand.

“It was a long time ago,” Peter says, voice light in a way that Stiles knows means the total opposite. Peter pauses, then adds, “My mother was with them, in the car.”

“Jesus,” Stiles mutters before he can stop himself. “You don’t have to, like, talk about it, or anything, not if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t you want to hear my story, Stiles?”

There’s an edge to his words, somethings Stiles can’t place, which makes him tip up his chin, makes him bristle like he’s been insulted. “Only if you want to tell it,” he says.

And maybe it was the right thing to say, because Peter seems to relax, shoulders no longer hunching forward, and he let’s out a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh under different circumstances. “What’s a little more tragedy between us, right?”

Stiles snorts, and eases into the room, dropping his worry like yesterday’s laundry by the door. There’s still a part of him that’s tense, keyed into every sound, every creak, but he’s not alone; he’s got Peter and, honestly? That’s kind of reassuring.

“I wouldn’t call us tragic.”

“Then what would you call us?”

Stiles shrugs, and blinks and wonders at how everything is full of color, suddenly. “Misplaced, I guess.”

The colors makes his eyes hurt. His head starts throbbing and he misses whatever Peter says when his blood starts rushing loudly through his ears and his fingertips go numb.

It reminds him of coming down from a sugar high as a child.

“Peter,” he says, or thinks he says, thinks he hears himself say, but he’s shaking so hard now he might not have said anything at all.

And then Peter is right there, filling his vision. He’s so close Stiles can feel his breath against his cheek but he’s blurry around the edges. Sort of wobbly.

He swallows, focuses on not throwing up, whines, maybe, and lists forward. “I don’t feel so good.”

“No,” Peter says. “I imagine you don’t. You’ve never Dropped before, have you.”

It’s not a question. Stiles treats it as one, anyway. “Almost once,” he says, and grabs onto Peter’s jacket because that is the only thing not spinning right now

He thinks of a funeral and the wreak of alcohol and the smell of a furious alpha.

Thinks of cold tiles and ambulance sirens and the fuzziness of medication. Thinks of being too young to understand what was happening.

“Oh god,” he groans, doesn’t fully register Peter grabbing him and holding him when he starts to sink down, legs folding beneath him. “Is that what this? This can’t be happening.”

“It’s not ideal,” Peter agrees. The world lurches, sways, making Stiles bury his face in Peter’s jacket, and the next time he resurfaces, it’s to find Peter has taken a seat in the armchair, and arranged Stiles so that he’s curled up his lap, feet free of his shoes, cold toes tucked between Peter’s thigh and the cushions, back pressed against the armrest.

“Just try and relax, sweetheart.”

And something just… slumps, inside him, goes warm and soft.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

Peter hums and Stiles kind of likes how it echoes through his own body, but then Peter is moving, jostling him around, and Stiles latches on, suddenly unbelievably terrified that he’s about to be displaced.

But Peter’s only awkwardly shrugging out of his jacket, which makes a certain amount of sense, being soaked through and all, and deftly flicking open the buttons of his shirt, baring his chest.

Stiles doesn’t even get the chance to appreciate the view before Peter is doing the same to him, shoving off his hoodie, sliding up his t-shirt. The chill is immediate but Peter must’ve found a blanket somewhere and now covers him with it.

Stiles is certain he knows what Peter’s doing, positive he’s read about it, at least, and yet his brain isn’t making sense. His throat is hot, bonding glands feeling swollen and puffy and his limbs basically useless.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Peter says into his ear and Stiles huffs a whine and falls forward into the alpha’s warmth, into his strong grip.

He shoves his nose into alpha’s neck and inhales rapidly. It’s maple syrup and warm blankets, sun-warmed soil with the bitter undertone of expensive coffee and something Stiles can’t name but craves anyway.

He probably isn’t under for longer than an hour. Time passes and his mind… drifts, overcome by instinct and the overwhelming need to feel safe.

It feels like falling asleep, almost, stuck in that in-between where nothing feels real.

Wakefulness returns slowly, seeping in at the edges. He is conscious of Peter’s hands running up his back, of his own hands curled into Peter’s chest. The hint purr building in his chest tickles his throat and makes him blush, knowing how intimate that sort of reaction is, how intimate their position is; an unmated omega alone with an unmated alpha.

His dad would lose his mind if he ever heard of this, which he was never going to if Stiles had anything to do with it.

Aside from their position though, Stiles feels… good. Not better, still a little unsteady, but it isn’t as bad as before.

His fingers don’t feel like little ice-blocks, for one. And he’s no longer shaking like some preteen that accidentally wondered into the horror showing in a cinema, which is wonderful, truly wonderful.

Of course, there is the small matter – very small, certainly not a big deal at all – that he just Dropped for Peter.

Psycho Peter, whom the rest of the pack can’t stand and don’t trust.

Crazy Uncle Peter that pokes and needles until he’s got Derek looking ready to start throwing him through walls again, and drives everybody else insane.

Peter, who…

“Back with me, sweetheart?”

Peter who does things like that. Calls him sweetheart and touches him like he’s something precious, something cared for, instead of a nuisance that’s too loud or too blunt or just too much.

Peter, who’s never mocked him for his dynamic, or put him down for instincts he can’t help. Who always buys him his favorite coffee and orders in Italian food for him and never minds when Stiles just happens to fall asleep on his couch during a research binge because the house is empty and he’s so goddamn tired of being alone.

Peter, whom Stiles is just realizing he might be a little bit in love with, while sitting in his lap.

Talk about inopportune moments.

“… this is so embarrassing,” he mutters, feeling stiff and awkward.

Movement, then Peter’s fingers are tangling through his hair and tugging gently, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Peter is quiet for awhile.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says at last, quietly, like if he says it any louder, the meaning won’t be the same, will transform from something that makes Stiles’s heart stutter and race into something shallow and flippant.

Stiles swallows. “You – you. I, uh.” He was not equipped to handle this kind of conversation. “I am not equipped to handle this kind of conversation.”

“And what conversation would that be?”

Multitudes of snark appeared on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Breaths. Tries to get his thoughts in order.

“...you know very well what kind,” he settles on saying.

Peter doesn’t say anything in response to that. He just sighs, turns his head so his nose is in Stiles’s hair, and somehow pulls Stiles closer.

It’s nice. It’s so nice. It’s the kind of nice that should be illegal and after the shitty night he’s had, Stiles is weak for it.

An illicit thrill runs through him when he thinks of what this would be like if Peter was his mate rather than just an alpha that his omega was sweet on… thinks of a soft bed and pillows that smell of both of them… thinks of purring, something he’s never done in front of anybody else before, ever.

“You are very young,” Peter says, sounding pained.

Stiles worries his bottom lip. “I’m eighteen in two weeks,” he whispers, voice hitching. He clears his throat, adds, “Besides. After everything that’s happened, am I really still that young? Are any of us?”

“The pack will never accept it. Derek won’t accept it.”

“So? It’s none of their business. I can do what I want. Just because they don’t personally agree with what I do, doesn’t mean their opinion suddenly matters.”

“And Scott?”

“Scott,” Stiles starts, so sure of what he was going to say only to falter, because… because what if Scott didn’t understand? Derek and the pack were one thing. Stiles felt semi-responsible for them, mostly because he’d helped save all of their lives at some point, and that meant something, you know? But Scott was his brother, they’d grown up together, and Scott still looked at Peter like he was never going to be anything but a spree-killing monster.

He made a helpless sound, frustrated and confused.

Peter soothed him, humming unintelligibly into his hair.

“Let’s not talk about this now. You’re e--”

“If you say I’m emotional, I swear to god I will hurt you.”

“-exhausted. Don’t lie to yourself, you’re running on fumes right now, and I am not a good enough man to let you regret anything else you might say tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Just because you’re being reasonable.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you try and get some sleep? The wards won’t let anything through.”

“...why’d it let us through, then?”

“They were once keyed to Hales. You were with me.”

“So… what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been with you?”

“Likely something suitably horrible.”

“Wow, great.”

****

They don’t ever really talk about it. The next day, when the storm’s passed and everything is yellow-wet and sweet, Peter steers them through the Preserve, back to town. They come out two streets over from Stiles’s house.

After… nothing really changes. They spend time together, do things together. Nobody notices. Or, if they do, they don’t say anything. The Sheriff isn’t home enough to notice how often his son is out, and when he is home, Stiles is careful to not make it so blatantly obvious that he’s spending at least three nights a week in a bed that isn’t his. It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything, exactly. Just, he knows his dad, okay? Knows exactly how much he would freak out if he knew what was going on and… well, sue him but he likes what he has now, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

Outside of that, being with Peter and researching and hanging out with the pack, Stiles graduates, and seriously thinks about what he wants to do with the rest of his life, which leads to him hunting down a mage that’s willing to be his mentor in return for free labor and a research assistant and moving halfway across the country.

Peter is with him every step of the way and officially begins courting him on his twentieth birthday.

By his twenty second, they’re mated and back in Beacon Hills and Stiles is incandescently happy with the way his life is going and Peter is leading him through the Preserve after making him promise to keep his eyes closed.

Stiles does, reluctantly.

It’s spring, the day warm and the woods seemingly come to life with bird song and the quick scamper of small animals across the ground.

Peter’s hand is a familiar weight in his, fingers laced together in a way that should be awkward but isn’t and Stiles is busy cursing how no amount of training will ever make him the kind of graceful that means he isn’t always tripping over himself and--

Peter slows them to a stop, and Stiles has the sense that they’ve come to a clearing, sunlight warm on his face.

The air is filled with the subtle scent of flowers and fresh grass and there’s a sort of hush that’s fallen over the place, like even the birds have gone quiet in anticipation.

Peter steps up behind him, presses against his back, arms going around his waist. Stiles relaxes against him, not bothering to hide his smile, or the way his scent goes mellow-sweet.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter tells him, and Stiles does.

His breath catches.

“Oh my god,” he says, staring. He can’t help it. He’s thought of the house often, wondered what it looked like in the daylight. In the months after, he’d even thought of asking Peter to take him out again, show him around, but Peter had never mentioned it, not once, and Stiles had figured that it was one of those things that had too many bad memories to outweigh the good but…

“Peter,” he says. “You…”

“I bought it,” Peter responds. “Fixed it up.” Then, while Stiles is still staring and speechless because the house is beautiful and equal parts Peter’s taste in architecture and Stiles’s taste in color, Peter shifts so he can press a kiss to the bondmark on his neck and says, “Consider this my mating gift to you.”

And Stiles breathes in, trying, and probably failing to contain his excitement, and says, “It’s perfect.”

And you know what? It kind of really is.

#steterweek2020 #Steter Week 2020 #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #steter #omega-verse #A/B/O dynamics #omega stiles #alpha peter #sort of friends to lovers #fluff #unrepentant fluff #idek #it just happened #slave to my impulses #Steter Week Day 5 #visual theme

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indecisive-behaviors · 4 years ago

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Okay so I just reblogged a thing talking about season 2 and 3 of Cobra Kai and I have some Thoughts about what they did to everyone’s character arcs in this so if you’d like a rant it’s under the cut with spoilers from all 3 seasons plus spoilers for all 3 Karate Kid movies

Okay so my issues start with one very key scene that I personally think fucked up the whole rest of the narrative, and by extension everyone else’s character arcs: which is from Different but Same. And no not that scene- not yet at least.

The first scene that I think fucked over the narrative and killed several character arcs was the beach scene. Miguel, reasonably distraught over the idea that Sam is hiding him from her dad(which she is actually doing to be fair), gets completely drunk and when Sam and Robby arrive together he loses it, pushes Sam and subsequently gets dumped. Now why do I think this ruined everything? It completely goes against Miguel’s character up to this point. Miguel is absolutely trying to mimic Johnny in a lot of key ways but also up to this point Miguel has also been Johnny’s conscience; he’s smart and kind and had not at all shown to be anything even close to what Johnny was in KK1. He’s stood up for his friends, defended the girl he likes from bullies, he’s a huge mama’s boy and a bit of a hopeless romantic. In no episode up until that point does he ever display any tendency towards unnecessary violence, despite Johnny’s “strike first” motto. Miguel getting wasted and violent does not add up in my mind. Miguel is supposed to be a narrative parallel to Daniel for fuck sake. Also, and this is my main complaint, there is no fucking reason for Miguel to immediately jump to the conclusion that Sam is seeing Robby- literally none. They look very much alike, hell Robby looks a little like Amanda honestly, he could very well be her cousin for all Miguel knows. Robby and Sam don’t even act like a couple in the shot- they’re literally just sitting next to each other at family dinner. None of this subplot makes any fucking sense.

And then, obviously, there’s the very next scene- Johnny goes with Daniel back to his place, tipsy and happy and seemingly in a very good place with each other. Then Robby shows up, Johnny loses his shit and Daniel proceeds to get pissed and kick Robby out. Now there is one thing I point out about this scene whenever I talk about it that doesn’t add up: no where in this scene is it ever even implied that either Johnny or Daniel know about Robby’s original intentions. (Also nothing up till that point ever even establishes why Robby knows about Daniel and Johnny’s rivalry in the first fucking place for the record). There is no reason for Johnny to suspect that Daniel knew and was hiding it, or even that Robby was doing it on purpose, and there is no reason for Daniel to get mad or even suspect that Robby knew what he was doing or was lying about it; and the fact of the matter is that Robby never actually lied(also Daniel never fucking asked) about his home situation. His mom was neglectful and an addict, and his father wasn’t in the picture. That’s it, and none of that was a lie. Now I’m not sitting here and denying that what Robby did was wrong because it absolutely was-- it was manipulative and unfair to Daniel and he had a right to be angry when he found out it was the case but there is nothing to suggest that he didn’t just jump to conclusions. And also, personally, I don’t think any of that justifies kicking a teenager to the curb, and one that Daniel explicitly knows has no one and nothing to fall back on. Be angry, be furious with Robby, but leaving a teenager to fend for themselves is cruel and completely unjustifiable behavior from a grown ass adult(also there’s a whole can of worms involved in Daniel never trying to figure out where the fuck Robby’s parents are and letting him live there without an explanation but that’s for a different rant).

Now assume none of that weird subplot happens, there is another way to have the Robby and Miguel rivalry that would have made so much more fucking sense and it only hinges on one fucking thing- Robby enters the tournament. It could be with or without Daniel’s approval(maybe even with a KK3 parallel, but Daniel honestly seems pretty into the tournament these days so he’d probably be down for Robby joining and reping Miyagi-do), but all we need is for him to do it. Robby gets there, and Johnny sees him, potentially rocking a Miyagi-do gi and can have his surprised/hurt moment with him and Daniel, even potentially a confrontation between them. We can also still have Miguel beating Robby in the tournament and having Johnny be conflicted about his son losing. Hawk can even still hurt him and give Johnny his “holy shit this is wrong” epiphany and Miguel not understanding why Johnny wants him to go easy on Robby. Robby can still be hurt and upset by thinking Johnny cares more about Miguel after he loses.

Okay now as for season 2? Assuming everything stays the same in season 1, I have one MAJOR complaint. Robby becoming Sam’s love interest; and no it’s not because I think Miguel and Sam should be an endgame couple when the show is over(I do but that’s beside the point) but because it turns Sam into a plot device. This carries over into season 3 where she starts dating Miguel again and apparently just never breaks it off with Robby which is such a dick move I can not for the life of me imagine Sam of all fucking people doing it. She isn’t perfect by any means but she’s also outspoken and and much more confident by that point and should not have had a problem breaking up with someone in an email. But I digress, back to season 2- the moment I saw that Sam and Robby were going to be a couple I immediately knew the writers fucked up. There was no build up for it, nothing in season 1 to foreshadow this as a possibility(Different but Same doesn’t count because that was a whiplash of an episode) and they just decided offhandedly to put her in the middle of Robby’s and Miguel’s rivalry. There was no reason to make them a couple other than to fuck with Miguel and set up the Tory & Sam rivalry which could have happened fucking anyway with the shit at the country club, the rift between Sam and Aisha, and Miguel’s ongoing feelings for Sam even after he’s dating Tory(also a dick move what the fuck Miguel??). Adding Robby as fuel to the fire was super unnecessary and all it did was set up the clusterfuck that was the season 2 finale.

And OH BOY was that finale a clusterfuck. First of all, as a prelude- Fuck. Daniel. He pulled the exact same shit as in season 1 with dumping Robby the second he does anything even a little bit wrong. But also, as a gut punch, Robby didn’t actually do anything wrong. What was he supposed to do at the party? He couldn’t stop Sam from drinking even though he wanted to, it was her (very poor) choice. But he did what he could, he kept an eye on her, and when the cops showed up, he didn’t just leave her, he put her in the car and drove her somewhere he thought she’d be safe without having to immediately face her father(who super fucking overreacted btw) while she was recovering. This scene, which could have been an excellent bonding moment for Johnny and Robby, and an introduction to Sam getting to know Johnny outside of her father’s influence, was turned into a brawl for no fucking reason.

Which leads me to the school fight. And right off the bat I’ve got to say this; even as, and maybe especially as, a person who has written post season 3 fix it fics, there is no way for Robby and Miguel to convincingly fix what happened in the season 2 finale. Yes, what Robby did was absolutely an accident and he has already done his time for it. But the elephant in the room is this: Miguel could have died. Or at the very least, been totally paralyzed. There is not a good way to come back from that. They will always have that hanging over their heads, even if they somehow reach an understanding. And I know someone is going to try and make the argument about that being a parallel to Johnny and Daniel in KK1, but if it is that it’s a terrible parallel. What Johnny did was supremely fucked up and I won’t deny that, especially with the Halloween scene and Daniel’s knee in the tournament(which actually was technically more Bobby’s doing, but I digress), but it was never “almost permanently disable/kill someone” bad. (Again there’s a whole can of worms to open about the shit with Chozen and Daniel’s seemingly pretty easy forgiveness of a man who tried to kill him because what the fuck?? But again that’s another rant.) But the writers wanted to push the envelope so now Johnny will always have the tug of war of choosing Robby, who he loves but who also really fucked up, and Miguel, who was the original reason for the rivalry in the first place but who was also the one who, again, almost died because of his son, even if he somehow fixes his relationship with both. It will always be “why did you pick him over me?” and Johnny will never have a good enough answer for either of them. And finally the big complaint- Johnny completely regressing in season 3. Season 3 honestly felt like a rehashing of season 1 because we literally had to see him progress in his arc all over again from square fucking one. He still isn’t there for Robby, he’s still fucking up things with Miguel and his family, he’s still fucking up his relationship with Daniel, he still chooses to miss his appointment with Robby to see Miguel(who would have been there after the appointment and he could have seen him then), he abandons half of his fucking students to fend for themselves and leaves the other half with a man he knows is a dangerous psychopath. And yes we get the cool scene at the end of December 19, but is it worth it?? I’m genuinely asking because, as much as I love that scene, I really don’t believe it is.(edit: Also fuck that whole subplot with Eli and Demetri- you don’t get to just break the arm of the boy who was your best friend and just have that go away with no repercussions. Fuck. That. I hope Demetri gets at minimum an actual on screen apology, and hopefully Eli actually trying to make amends.)

We could have still had the big team up- have Johnny admit to Daniel that he’s fucked up and tell him everything that’s happening with Kreese. Have them join forces to defeat Kreese in the tournament. Have the dumb fucking bet. Introduce Terry Silver in season 4. Have Johnny’s and Daniel’s tenuous truce strained at every turn because they’re idiots. Do all of it. But y’know what? We could have had all of that- all of it- without it being at the expense of at least 2 character arcs; Johnny’s and also Robby’s.

Also before I end this I just have to add- nothing and I mean nothing will ever redeem Kreese or Silver for me. I do not give a singular shit about either of their tragic backstories, I just don’t. I get why and how Chozen got his redemption- he was a teenager when that shit happened, and while the shit he pulled is personally unforgivable in my opinion, he has actively been trying to redeem himself by spending the last however many decades making it up to his community. I’d even understand a Barnes redemption to an extent, even though I wouldn’t accept it, because he was also very young and being manipulated by, again, a dangerous psychopath. But Kreese and Silver? Abso-fucking-lutely not. They were two grown ass adults who purposefully targeted an 18 year old and put him through emotional and physical for weeks, paid someone to intimidate him through both threats of physical violence but also through vandalism, and gaslighted him and isolated him from the only family he had at the time because he beat them in a children’s karate competition. Look, I’m not sorry, I don’t give a fuck about Kreese’s tragic backstory, nothing about what Kreese has done can be rationalized by just saying “oh his mom and girlfriend died and he was in ‘Nam”. And any good thing he does for Tory, or even Robby, does not balance out all the harm he has caused. Silver is even less redeemable- I don’t care that he almost died in war, I’m an army brat I know plenty of people who almost died and don’t act like this. In canon we have evidence of him being completely, unrepentantly evil- the first scene with him in it has him basically confirmed as the BP of nuclear waste, he pays people so he can beat them up, he’s been personally funding Kreese’s child indoctrination classes. They could pull out the saddest backstory for him possible and I would not give a shit. And that’s fine. We don’t need every bad guy to have a tragic backstory- sometimes an evil villain can just be an evil villain for no reason, not all of them need a traumatic turning point that the authors shove in to make the audience sympathize with them. So please, writers, stop trying to make me feel sorry for them because I really don’t and I don’t understand anyone who does.

Okay rant over.

#cobra kai #karate kid #spoilers #johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #robby keene #miguel diaz #sam larusso #tory nichols #aisha robinson #eli moskowitz #john kreese #terry silver #demetri #chozen toguchi #mike barnes

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

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The storm on the horizon Part 2

This was prompted by the wonderful @downeyjrfreak! Sorry to leave you on yet another cliffhanger! I will upload the next part tomorrow with the other story, but it would have gotten too long for just today!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Gavin Reed, RK900, Captain Fowler [Part1] [Part3]

The years passed. The world changed. Gavin Reed stayed the same.

A revolution came and went, androids were persons now apparently, Elijah got his job back and Gavin stayed a Detective. He wondered for how long though. The events of that day two years ago had never left him. It shouldn’t be surprising when you were seconds away from being murdered on the open street by a machine that personally unveiled all the corporate shit Cyberlife was hiding. People had been killed for just knowing too much. People that simply disappeared because they got an early glimpse of what was about to hit them full force a year later. Just so Cyberlife could continue to sell their androids, make money, get richer. And Gavin couldn’t do anything about it. Cyberlife let him live because Elijah had thought for it. The deal had been both their silence and Elijah’s job for Gavin’s life. And that very deal had condemned them to idleness during these two hell-years.

It had been hard for Gavin to continue working as an officer. He had felt like a dirty cop investigating all these cases of deviancy and writing it up as malfunctions or accidents. When he knew with every new case how the issue got out of hand, how more and more androids went rogue and disobeyed. Some days he spent sitting at his window watching the people walk by wishing just to tell them how dangerous those androids were. Not only considering they planted a walking talking surveillance bot in their homes and trusted it with their kids, their family, vital work like cooking and driving them around, but also knowing they were unstable machines that could malfunction and wake up any minute.

He had to admit, most of these cases it had been the human’s fault for treating the bot like shit, but each and every case he thought back to his very own experience. An android knowing it would be replaced, threatening people, shooting around with a weapon it found, nearly hitting Gavin. It was dangerous. There wasn’t even any malicious thinking involved there. One day you just had enough of your old computer and got a new one. And of course, there was the android that had hunted him, had followed him just to kill him without mercy. What would happen would one of these machines go rogue? If they already had the freedom to take a life, what horrible things would that kind of android be able to do?

He guessed it didn’t matter now. Androids were praised as being the new form of life on planet earth. Gavin had been told all sorts of things: They were better than humans, they were there to save humans from dangerous jobs, they weren’t dangerous and even more human than humans could be. As if that was something good. Gavin had spent his life scraping up the shit humans were capable of creating from the streets and into prisons. But god forbid someone said that out loud. No, Gavin had to sit in his chair, look at his desk and work like nothing happened. As if not all around them androids were passing by free from all boundaries and very, very capable of killing him in one blow.

He had managed to adapt. Connor arriving at the precinct had been a shock. That face, a face he would never be able to forget as it haunted him day and night, now stared into his face, grinning, holding out a coffee for him. Needless to say, he had flipped and coped with his fear the only way he could: lashing out. Because telling people the truth wasn’t an option if he didn’t want to meet that vicious killer again and discover how a bullet to the heart without a bulletproof vest felt like. His plan had been to behave like an asshole, so any sane person would keep him away from the android. He hadn’t expected it to backfire as he saw the signs of deviancy in Connor and tried to do damage control before the situation could get out of hand. Trying to keep an android send by Cyberlife that was about to go deviant from vital evidence that could finally lead to the world realising what had been happening for two years now, had ended with him in the hospital with a severe concussion.

Learning that the revolution had taken a good turn against all odds and lead to a form of society that wasn’t built on genocide of one half, had been a relief. Soon after, Elijah had taken his place at the top again, what lifted the lingering danger of being executed for surviving off his shoulders, too. He had thought that to be the end to this horror and that he would be able to get back to work and do what he could do best.

He knew he was wrong, when not two days after being released from the hospital, he was called to Fowlers office and stood face to face with his worst nightmare. He tried to jump back, fell on his behind and screamed. He wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Fowler and the android looked at him in silence, then it turned towards the Captain and said without: ‘Sir, I can’t work with this man.’ Fowler stared at them mouth agape at what just happened. ‘What?’ ‘You- you- you’, Gavin pointed at the thing accusingly, but couldn’t articulate his thoughts more than that. ‘Yes, Detective, I’m aware’, the android commented in Gavin’s direction. Towards Fowler he explained: ‘Captain, I’ve tried to kill this man. I can’t work with him.’ ‘You tried what?’ ‘Cyberlife ordered me to kill Detective Reed because of his knowledge of deviancy in 2037. His brother saved him using admin commands. I don’t think partnering us up would greatly contribute to a raise of work efficiency.’

Fowler stared at the android that stood ramrod straight in front of him, face entirely neutral and hands clasped behind his back. Then at Gavin who still seemed to wish he could merge through walls to escape. ‘Is that true?’ Gavin nodded quickly. ‘Yes. It is. And I’m on his side, please don’t partner me up with this thing.’ ‘Well shit’, the Captain sighed. ‘We are the only precinct with vacancies at the moment though. Would you be able to work in the same building? The android nodded. ‘It’s not a problem with me, but you should rather ask the Detective if he is comfortable with this.’ ‘Gavin?’ ‘I… I will try’, he said, standing up slowly but keeping the door in reach.

‘I thank you for that advance trust, Detective’, the android said and turned towards him. That was it, Gavin had the handle in hand. ‘And I want to formally apologise. Cyberlife’s actions are not mine. I hope that with time I can prove that.’ ‘J-just stop talking’, Gavin sputtered out, knuckles turning white. ‘And don’t come near me.’ The android immediately took a step back. ‘Of course, Detective.’ ‘That I can work with.’

‘Alright’, Fowler sighed. ‘Nines, you can go now. Gavin, I would ask you to stay. I believe you have a story to tell me.’ ‘He doesn’t have to, Captain, I already transferred a statement to your terminal as the Detective is a victim here.’ ‘Thank you, Nines, but I would like to discuss that with Gavin in private.’ The android nodded courtly. ‘Have a nice day then Captain, Detective.’

Gavin stared after the android and fell into the chair in front of Fowler’s desk exhaustion creeping up at him. It stayed silent for a while, then he sighed deeply. ‘Go ahead, ask away.’ ‘You were nearly killed?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘And you never said anything?’ ‘Cyberlife wanted to silence anyone who knew of deviancy. Guess they thought they could resolve the issue themselves somehow. I learned of deviancy and was supposed to be killed by this thing that’s now walking in our precinct. Elijah managed to make a deal. We both never tell anyone, and he resigns. That’s how I stayed alive. Believe me, Captain, if I could have seen a way, I would have told you.’ ‘Holy shit.’ ‘Exactly’, Gavin nodded. ‘You don’t want to know how my nightmares looked like, believe me.’ ‘I get a pretty good image looking at your reaction to Nines. Do you know what happened to those who made these decisions?’ ‘According to Elijah most of the board members fled the city during the revolution. Those who didn’t he plans on anonymously report for their crimes as soon as he found evidence.’ ‘Are you willing to testify against them if they are brought in?’ ‘Gladly.’ ‘Good. Let me know if I can help you any other way.’ Gavin nodded. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it. I think my legs will support me now.’

Work wasn’t really possible that day. Not when his murderer sat across the room and was working away. Not when every move of the machine made Gavin twitch and his heartbeat quicken. He more or less managed to get the minimum done for today and hurried out to get back home and forget everything that just happened.

He stood in the fresh snow next to his car, key in hand as a certain machine called out to him: ‘Detective!’ Gavin startled, hand on his gun and ready to take cover behind his car. The android in turn lifted his hands up. ‘Please, don’t pull your gun. I will remain standing here, I won’t get any closer.’ ‘What do you want?’ ‘Talk in private. You are stressed by my presence, I am sorry. I wanted to tell you I already asked for a transfer before even meeting you. The moment there is a vacancy, I’m gone.’ ‘Okay. That’s it?’, Gavin asked, not even thinking about getting his hand off his pistol. ‘Basically, yes. I also wanted to ask how I can-‘

The sound of screeching tires in the darkness interrupted the android and with shock he saw a black car with switched-off headlights race towards Gavin. ‘Watch out!’, he shouted, but the human had already jumped aside. The car crashed into Gavin’s vehicle. Not caring for the damage, a door opened, a person reached out for Gavin and pulled him into the car. Nines was already running towards them since the crash, but he had been too far away to do anything. A shot echoed through the parking lot as he tried to get to them, and he felt the bullet pierce through his shoulder. Still he tried to get inside the car, but with spinning tires it was already departing, driving through the bushes and speeding off into the distance.

Nines ran after them into the open street, but there was no way he could follow them. Meanwhile, multiple officers from the bullpen had hurried outside looking at him questioningly. He just shook his head. ‘Gavin has been kidnapped.’

[>next part]

#detroit become human #dbh #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Captain Fowler #RIP Gavin's car - AGAIN #I actually quite like the setting #I hope I don't get more inspiration because this is a story I could rewrite as a big one #BUt that would be number 73 on the list and yeah...

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years ago

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Nano: Mistakes

Lauritz looked up when they entered, one after the other. Kala stood back, hands in fists and arms folded, as Rain moved forwards to carefully untie Lauritz again. The confused look to his wide-open expression was sad to see. He couldn't read the room, and see that they weren't hostile. Or maybe he just didn't know what else they could be.

"Go ahead," Rain said, when he was untied and standing in front f the hatch. "I'll come down after. We're going to have lunch."

Lauritz didn't look up, speak or not. He climbed down the ladder and waited at the bottom.

"Um, step back for me," Rain told him. They waited until he obliged before climbing down themself, with Kala's little scoff echoing behind them. Despite the attitude she was right there, moments after them.

"You remember where the kitchen is?" Rain asked, trying to smile. "Lead the way."

Lauritz did, with slow, tentative steps, as if they were going to drag him back upstairs at any moment. He paused at the top of the stairs, then went down one at a time. He did have to glance around before finding the kitchen, but he went, and after another hesitation, sat down at the chair he’d been on last night.

Rain looked at Kala, warning, but she didn’t object to him being in her preferred spot. She took up leaning against the counter, arms crossed and glare settled onto Lauritz. She didn’t mean to glare. It was just what her eyes did when she saw someone she didn’t like.

With a quiet sigh, Rain sat down on their chair. They pulled a folded piece of paper from their pocket, and slid it across. After a nod from them, Lauritz took it, and opened it to look.

Your name is Lauritz.

He squinted. He blinked for a moment, and then pushed a hand against his forehead. “I...” he murmured, and Rain felt Kala tense behind them, ready to intervene in case his memories were flooding back and restoring him to his former inglorious attitude. But Lauritz didn’t seem to notice, his eyes running back over the single sentence in Rain’s curling script, and again, and again. “I-I don’t – didn’t remember reading,” he admitted after a moment.

Oh. Rain relaxed their nerves, consciously. He was just realising something new. He was innocent, still. He just had no memory of learning to read, and here he was... Reading.

Whatever kind of amnesia he had, it sure was confusing.

“Lauritz,” Kala said, and he didn’t look up immediately. Rain watched his mouth sound out the word, eyes on the paper, and then he looked up. “That’s you,” Kala confirmed. “I’m – sorry we didn’t tell you earlier.”

She didn’t sound sorry at all, but when Lauritz looked to Rain, they nodded.

“It’s... It’s okay,” he murmured, looking back at the paper as if his eyes were magnetised to it. “I didn’t um, deserve to know. If I was a bad person.”

Rain frowned lightly. Why would he think that?

“Why’s that?” Kala said, echoing them.

Lauritz glanced away, uncomfortable, but then back to the paper his brown eyes went, tracing each letter. Was it the act of reading, or the revelation of his name? Was he chasing a thought that was about to break through, his old self pressing at his thoughts?

“I’m... I’m bad, right?”

Bad?

“I... You’ve told me that. I know I’m bad. I-I want to know... why? Can I?”

Kala didn’t reply. Rain wasn’t sure what to say either. But the longer it took them to respond, the more the silence dragged their words into insincerity.

“You...”

Indignation caught the words and choked them in Rain’s throat like a rush of heat after a bite of food. You’re not bad – how could they say that? Of course he was. He was a fucking monster. That was still in there, even if he didn’t remember it. That was still who he was. Making him forget wouldn’t change him like magic, would it? Especially not when he still had those memories breaking through.

But he hadn’t done anything bad. He’d just... He’d been nothing but a victim since he’d first arrived. So how could they tell him he was bad when he didn’t know who he was?

“You are,” Kala said, before they could work out a fair reply. Her voice was clipped. “You’re a piece of shit. But you can try to be better. And you fucking should.”

Rain watched, helplessly mute, as Lauritz absorbed the answer and his shoulders slowly lowered in defeat. “I’ll try,” he affirmed sadly. “Thank you.”

There was a short silence as Rain tried to think their way through what should be done next. There was a lot, and none of it was what they wanted to do. Getting rid of Lauritz forever was becoming an increasingly unlikely happy ending, though.

“You need a bed,” they declared. “And you need something to do all day. We should probably help you learn more about... the world and how it works.”

Lauritz just nodded. He was clearly listening, but something about his expression made them frown.

“Is there anything you would like to do?” they offered.

He was silent. He looked faintly surprised, eyes slightly widened. When they waited, and Kala waited, and it was clear that he was expected to reply, he hesitantly offered, “I would like to go outside more, if that’s alright.”

“Yes,” Rain said before they could second-guess the decision. “You should be allowed outside. That’s humane. We’ll try and keep your times outside to time when one of us is there, though.”

Before they could even explain why, Lauritz nodded. “I won’t run away,” he said.

“No, that’s... Alright. Good to know. Anything else that you would like?” Please, they thought, give them something to work with, rather than making them figure it out themself. Trying to think about nice things to do for him, of all people, was not soothing their prickling thoughts.

He looked down at his hands, and they wondered what it would be. But when he looked up, there were no clues on his expression. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Well, let’s... Let’s try to get along. Try to fix things up so you’re not living a horrible life. Okay.”

Kala pushed off from the counter and walked to the door. “I’m going outside now,” she said. “You’re not coming with me.”

Lauritz blinked. He didn’t nod. He didn’t even seem to realise she wanted him to respond.

“Fine,” she said. She didn’t look at Rain. She opened the back door, stepped out, and shut it. Rain turned their gaze back to Lauritz, trying to ignore the way their heart picked up when Lauritz met their gaze.

“You’re going to be alright,” they said. They had said that already, hadn’t they? God, just his eyes made them doubt themself again, ready to throw themself to their knees or beg or whatever it took to stop him—

“Thank you.”

“What?”

His gaze was sincere, plain and open and somehow trusting. Somehow, after everything they’d subjected him to, or condoned through inaction while Kala was being her usual over-aggressive self in his direction... After everything, he was thanking them. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” they said, almost cutting him off. “Don’t thank me. I could have done this for you on the first day.”

He didn’t respond, but his expression didn’t change. He really was grateful. Grateful that he didn’t have to live tied up in the attic anymore... Because that was the only place he knew to live.

The day went strangely after that. I took him to the living room and he sat down on the sofa. He had stars in his eyes from how comfortable it was. When I showed him how to get water for himself, he drank two glasses. He seemed uncomfortable sitting at the table for dinner, but I don’t see a way around that. I won’t have him sitting on the floor like he used to in the attic. Even if he asked to.

He watches Kala when she’s nearby as though he’s expecting to be hurt, and it bothers her. It’s plain to see. She voids him now, but that only makes him more nervous around her. That will have to change at some point.

He’s in the living room again now, sleeping on the sofa. Kala helped me clear out some of what’s in there, sharp or dangerous things, anything he could use to turn on us if he turns out to be the old Lauritz again tomorrow.

He’s locked in. He doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he thinks this is normal, or deserved.

Regardless, I still don’t like it. It feels like we traded a captive for a slightly better treated captive. It feels like he’s just sliding closer towards bonding with me despite how unfairly I’ve treated him. It feels like we did good cop and bad cop by accident, and now he thinks what I give him is kindness, because it doesn’t involve cutting him up.

Fuck!

That’s it, isn’t it?

Fuck. He has no frame of reference. He has no idea how the world works. He thinks being cut up for things he didn’t do is normal. He thinks he deserves it! He won’t accept apologies because we told him too many time that he was that person, that bastard. I told him he was the rat and he called himself the rat. And now I’m freaking out over the consequences when they’re my own damn fucking fault!

Shit. I don’t know what to do. And this shouldn’t be our job, this shouldn’t have anything to do with us, but he must be here for a reason. There’s no way it was a coincidence. And that means it does involve us, despite what we want, and somehow even without being himself he is stepping into our lives and ruining them.

And I’m getting worse. I know I am. I had more thoughts today. Just sitting at the table with him made me feel like he was about to say something, one of those phrases he used to use when he expected something, some instinctive trained response that still, still, still sit in my head and I fucking hate it and they’re there waiting for him to just... Press those buttons.

And then it turns out I did the same to him without even trying.

He looks at me when I walk in the room. He listens to me speak. When I ask a question, he nods. No matter what I say, he nods. I asked him if he wanted to go back in the attic and he nodded. I asked him if he wanted to sleep in the living room and he nodded. I asked if he could read. I asked if he knew his name. I asked if he

I don’t know what to do

Kala wants me to work out what to do and I don’t know

I don’t know

#nanowrimo extract #recovery #amnesiac whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #accidental whump #accidental whumper #conditioning #past trauma #obedience #angry caregiver #rain #lauritz #kala

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96thdayofrage · 4 years ago

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When police vehicles pulled behind her, Bottom continued driving for another 10 miles, oblivious, she says, to the fact that they were trying to stop her for speeding. Bottom didn’t think she was speeding and claims she didn’t realize she was being pulled over.

Officers used stop sticks and pulled Bottom over at gunpoint. Then police yanked the 68-year-old Atlanta woman out of her driver’s seat by her hair, according to a federal lawsuit.

Bottom is suing the city of Salisbury, two of the city’s police officers and a Rowan County sheriff’s deputy who were involved in the May 30, 2019 incident. The federal complaint also names Rowan County Sheriff Kevin Auten as well as the Pennsylvania National Mutual, Casualty Insurance Company, the insurance company with which the Sheriff’s Office has a $2 million surety bond.

Bottom’s lawsuit was filed April 21 in the U.S. District Court for the Middle District of North Carolina. She alleges officers assaulted her and unlawfully searched her SUV during the chaotic ordeal. She’s asking for damages and an injunction against the policies and practices in which the officers engaged while taking her into custody.

Bottom is being represented by Scott Holmes, professor of the Civil Litigation Clinic, a program for third-year law-school students at the North Carolina Central University. The clinic has partnered with Emancipate North Carolina, a civil rights nonprofit based in Durham.

Ian Mance is the attorney handling the case for the public policy program, which is dedicated to criminal justice reform and eradicating structural racism. He said he was particularly struck by officers’ brutal treatment of an elderly woman who was unarmed and showed no signs of being violent.

“There was no indication that local law enforcement agencies we’re going to take any action against these officers,” Mance explained in an interview with Atlanta Black Star. “I think we all kind of saw this case the same way, which is this was an egregious example of excessive force. And the departments did not seem inclined to take action to hold these officers accountable. If they’re not going to hold these officers accountable in a situation like this, when will they hold officers accountable?”

The Bodycam

The incident began the evening of May 30, 2019 when a deputy allegedly spotted Bottom driving 80 mph on the interstate, which has a 70 mph speed limit. Bottom noticed the deputy’s blue lights but didn’t think she was speeding so she didn’t stop. She thought the police were attempting to stop another motorist on the interstate, and claims her music drowned out the sirens.

Pretty soon, four male officers were involved in the chase. Among them was Salisbury police officer Adam Bouk, Rowan County sheriff’s deputy Mark Benfield, a Highway Patrol trooper identified in the lawsuit only as Officer Smith and Devin Barkalow, a plainclothes Salisbury cop.

An officer pulled alongside Bottom’s SUV at one point during the chase and looked inside her vehicle. He identified her on the radio as “an older Black female.” A frustrated Barkalow called Bottom a “fucking retard” and a “douche bag” while chasing her in his squad car. Bodycam footage showed he also said it was an “exciting chase” and commented that he was “at the edge of his seat.”

Smith pulled ahead of Bottom at one point and laid down a spike strip to flatten her SUV’s tires. That’s when she pulled over to the highway’s median.

Bodycam footage showed Deputy Benfield hop out with his gun drawn as he and the other officers swarmed her car. Bottom’s lawsuit indicates Barkalow also aimed his weapon at her.

As Bottom was unbuckling her seatbelt, Barkalow rushed in from the passenger’s side of the SUV and snatched the elderly woman out of the driver’s seat by her hair, then slammed her to the pavement. The other officers swooped in and handcuffed Bottom, who yelled and writhed in pain as they yanked her arms her back to shackle her. Benfield, Bouk and Barkalow pinned her to the ground with their arms and knees on Bottom’s back, the lawsuit alleges.

Bottom appeared befuddled at the officers’ aggressive response. Bouk yelled that they’d been following her trying to get her to stop for over 10 miles.

“I was just driving,” Bottom said.

“You’re going to jail now,” the policeman responded.

“Why? What have I done wrong?” Bottom cried out, growing increasingly incredulous. “What have I done wrong? Please, why are you doing this to me?”

“It was a simple traffic stop, that’s all we had to do,” Benfield told her. “We’d write you a ticket. You turned it into this.”

Bottom sobbed as she sat on the ground at the side of the high gasping in pain. She told officers she had a torn ligament in her shoulder from a previous car accident and begged them to uncuff her arms from behind her back. Bouk refused, while the three other officers ignored her pleas.

She later asked to be taken to the hospital and told a ranking police captain who arrived on scene that officers had broken her arm.

Bouk and Benfield explained to Bottom that she refused to stop when they attempted to pull her over for speeding. Bottom claimed she was driving 70 mph or 75 mph with her music turned up so loudly that she couldn’t hear the sirens. She said she didn’t realize the contingent of officers were after her.

Authorities scoffed at her explanation, finding it hard to believe she didn’t notice them for 10 miles. Bouk told her a cruiser pulled right beside her vehicle at one point during the pursuit and said she endangered “a whole lot of people.” Authorities indicated they also had their lights and sirens flashing as well.

“Ma’am, there was about four police cars behind you at one point in time,” Benfield told Bottom as she claimed she didn’t realize the officers had been chasing her for miles. “I don’t understand how they do it in Georgia, but that’s not how it’s done here.”

According to a July 2020 report from the North Carolina Justice Analysis Review, Black motorists were stopped at a rate twice as high as white drivers in the Tar Heel State, and almost 1.5 times the rates of other races. A March report from the review panel, which is part of the Governor’s Crime Commission, showed that Black drivers are also searched nearly twice the rate as white and Hispanics in North Carolina, and more than three times the rate of other races.

Mance said that was one of the reasons Emancipate North Carolina opted to take on Bottom’s case.

“We know that North Carolina has really widespread and entrenched, pronounced racial disparities in terms of the way that black and white motorists are policed,” he said. “I think that one of the main reasons we decided to get involved and impact litigation around traffic stops is that here, traffic stops are the main way that people interact with the police. So they make up the majority of citizens police interactions in a given year.

“That’s not the case in a lot of states. But here, that is kind of the main way that people interact with police,” Mance added. “So when things go wrong with the police, that is very often in the context of traffic stops.”

The Lawsuit

Bottom’s lawsuit claims officers used excessive force when they approached her at gunpoint and when they dragged her out of her SUV. Her attorneys argue the officers didn’t give the elderly woman enough time to exit her vehicle and acted recklessly by forcibly removing her.

According to the complaint, Bottom was unarmed and posed no threat. She had her hands up and was attempting to exit the vehicle, but it was difficult to do so quickly because of her age and medical conditions.

Her lawyers claim the officers’ reckless actions aggravated an old injury and caused Bottom’s shoulder to “pop” as the officers handcuffed her. She had to be hospitalized and undergo surgery for a torn rotator cuff. Her shoulder has never fully healed and the incident left her with permanent damage.

Bottom’s attorneys also argue that officers were “deliberately indifferent” to the woman’s pain. They ignored her cries for medical attention and failed to render immediate treatment for her injuries.

Bouk told other officers “that’s good police work, baby” even as Bottom continued to complain about her shoulder. Some of the other officers congratulated each other for a job well done, the lawsuit alleges. Barkalow bragged about grabbing a “handful of dreads,” and said “at that point she earned it.”

Paramedics were eventually called to the scene. According to The Associated Press, it was about an hour before EMS arrived. They determined Bottom needed to be hospitalized. The officers then decided not to charge Bottom to avoid paying the cost of her hospital bills, her attorneys allege. Instead, the officers decided to issue a criminal summons for her to appear in court at a later date.

One of the police officers who no longer works for the Salisbury Police Department declined to comment when contacted by the Charlotte Observer. The other officers did not respond to requests for comment. A spokesman for the city of Salisbury also declined to comment about the incident.

Bottom would later be charged with speeding, failure to heed to blue lights and resisting, delaying and obstructing an officer. She was accused of “refusing to get out of her vehicle and pulling away from the officer.” The lawsuit denied those allegations.

When Bottom appeared in court, she pleaded guilty to the failure to heed blue lights charge. The two other charges were dismissed.

The suit also maintains that officers had no probable cause and never asked for Bottom’s consent to search her SUV or her purse, which was in the vehicle.

Bottom was not driving recklessly, she didn’t lead officers on a high-speed chase, and she never intentionally tried to elude them, her attorneys contend. Despite that, authorities felt justified in threatening deadly force and physically assaulting the woman because she didn’t pull over in a timely manner.

Bottom was not available for comment this week. Her attorneys said she had to foot the bill for medical treatments, repairs to her SUV and was left to grapple with the emotional fallout of her encounter.

“This was this was a very traumatic thing for her to go through,” Mance said. “It was very frightening. It caused her a very significant injury that required surgery, that required her to spend time in the hospital. She had to miss a significant amount of work. So this was very disruptive to her life in many ways.”

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heartofsnark · 5 years ago

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This Is Love (Chapter One): Welcome to Hope County

Notes: Soooo, I’ve been talking about this for a bit and it’s time to just take the jump and start publishing my Far Cry 5 fic. I hope you enjoy. Also, i have like a series warning for this that will be on every chapter cause it needs it.

Summary: Dahlia Hale is the youngest person working at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. Hailing from a small town in Louisiana, it’s going to take her some time to fully acclimate to the new environment and living on her own. Developing friendships takes time even for the most functional of people and for disasters like Dahlia it takes even longer. She gets along with her coworkers and there’s some religious family who’s taken a shine to her, for some reason. It seems like she’s on her way to getting the kind of friends she’s only ever dreamed about, even if it’s going to take some more time.

Then everything goes to shit.

Halfway through her six-month probationary hire and that nice religious family has kicked off a holy war with her becoming enemy number one.

To one side she’s a hero.

To the other she’s a monster. She’s not sure which is right.

Word Count: 9,290

Series Warning: I usually do not like to spoil endgame pairings in my fics, but this warrants being up front. This series is polyseed and involves heavy, recurrent themes of at times romanticized noncon, dubcon, large age differences, and stockholm syndrome that develops into a romantic relationship. The relationship between my oc and the Seeds is extremely unhealthy, toxic, and should never be replicated or sought out in real life. No matter how things progress or how they are portrayed at different points, this fact remains the same. i am comfortable exploring and enjoying these themes in fiction, not everyone is. If you are uncomfortable with or triggered by any of these things, please skip this and take the precautions you feel necessary to avoid this material. If you are an individual who struggles with separating reality and fiction; please do not read this. Otherwise, if you’re comfortable with and enjoy that kind of content, please enjoy.

Chapter Warnings: Bliss flowers, hallucinations, threats of violence (really not bad compared to whats to come)

A shiver rolls down Dahlia’s spine, the chill of the Montana night settling into her bones. A sign welcomes her to Hope County, her motorcycle tire spinning dirt at it as she passes. The moon shines bright in the sky, cascading silver light down on everything. It’s beautiful despite the cold, light reflecting off the lakes and streams that pass through the county.

It’s mostly woods and forests, fields of big white flowers and animals wandering through. The entire county is begging to be put on a postcard, from the animals, to the fields, to the…giant cement statue of a guy with a manbun…

Her tires squeal as she comes to a stop on the thankfully vacant road, she pushes the visor of her helmet up, as if the tint could cause her to see something like this. Sure enough, the white hunk of stone is still there. It’s of a man with his hair pulled back in a small bun, in one hand he holds a book and the other gestures outward.

Hair raises on the back of her neck and goosebumps collect across her skin, the statue is…eerie. It looms across the entire region, a creeping specter. Unnerving doesn’t even begin to describe it, her body has started to lean towards it, almost drawn to it.

Maybe it’s a historical figure for the county? People do that right, build monuments to founders or something. The clothes of the figure seem old fashioned, but she’s not sure about how far back the manbun goes.

She shakes her head and slaps her visor back down, she needs sleep. It shouldn’t be much further to her hotel. Dahlia revs her engine and rushes off that way, finally finding the large wooden hotel with its red roof. There’s a large wooden sign welcoming her to the King’s Hot Spring Hotel, the parking lot is decidedly vacant, and she comes to a stop by the smaller stone black sign that sits close to the larger wooden one, easy to overlook if someone wasn’t looking close enough.

“King’s Hot Spring Hotel

On May 12th, 1902 a 7.6 earthquake struck the mountain south of the hotel. It created a 10 million ton landslide that sliced a deep crevice in the earth and destroyed half the King’s hotel. 16 people were killed in the landslide, their bodies never recovered. To this day, their ghosts are said to haunt the site of the rebuilt hotel.

Built 1866.”

So, from a dirty cockroach motel to a haunted hotel, certainly a step up. She doesn’t really believe in ghosts, they’re cool as all hell, she loves creepy shit. But she doesn’t think any of it is real and if she’s wrong, maybe the ghosts will be nice enough to kill her. She parks her bike and shuts off the engine, unclipping her storage bag from it and making her way to the door.

The inside feels warm and welcoming, rustic. A large stone fireplace with a bear skin rug in front of it, wooden stairs leading to the upper floors. Her eyes scan the room and she finds a registration desk where a woman sits, reading from a white book. She stands out slightly in the old styled hotel, tattoos covering her arms. The woman’s light, almost milky, green eyes, look up to see Dahlia as she makes her way to the desk.

“I called ahead and reserved a room for tonight.”

“Hale, right?” The girl flashes a soft smile as she slides the registration forms across the desk and Dahlia finds herself looking down at the receptionist’s arms, SLOTH and ENVY with strikes through them; half tattooed and half scarred in the woman’s skin. Heavy-handed work.

“Yeah, that’s me, how’d you know?”

“Oh, not many folks check in here anymore, between the ghost tales and the new management.”

“Management?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as she finishes scribbling in her info and handing her card over.

“Here,” the woman hands Dahlia’s card back along with a room key and a map, “I’m sure you’ll find the path.”

“Uhh…thanks…”

She shakes her head as she leaves the desk, doing a double take at the worker, who’s now back to reading the large white tome with a soft smile on her face. Dahlia is entirely too tired to deal with weird cryptic people, maybe she’s trying to play up the creepy factor of the supposedly haunted hotel. Probably intrigues the tourists or some shit. She takes her phone from her pocket, ringing Lloyd as she walks to her room.

“Hey, Stray,” He greets her with the nickname he gave her and she already feels a little better despite the chill and exhaustion.

“Hey,” Dahlia unlocks her room and strides in, there’s a deer head mounted on the wall and a vase of those white flowers on the bedside drawer, “just wanted to let you know that I am officially in Hope County.”

She tosses her luggage, along with the gunk the receptionist gave her onto the bed and does a fist bump for no one’s benefit but her own.

“That’s good, your interview is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll go well, if not it might be another year of me eating cheese puffs on your couch.”

“You make it sound like you’re some sort of bum.”

“I mean…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m gonna be a mess when you go.”

“If I go, still gotta get the job.”

“You’re gonna nail it, I know it, me and Earl were friends way back. He’s not dumb enough to let you go. And if he is, well, I’ll be having some words with him.”

“You can’t fight someone for not wanting to hire me.”

“I mean, I can, uh, yeah, sweetie it’s stray, I was kinda, oh Caroline wants-“

“Stray, did you throw your fucking phone away?” Caroline, Lloyd’s wife, is on the phone in a second, worriedly yelling.

“I talked to you when I stopped off in Denver.”

“Yeah, in a dingy nasty motel and then we didn’t hear a word from you for over twelve fucking hours!”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself,” Dahlia laughs and rolls her eyes, the concern is appreciated but unneeded. She’s a cop and despite her short stature, she’s got muscles and knows how to protect her. Maybe it’s cocky and arrogant, but at this point in her life, she’s not afraid of anything hurting her physically, mentally and emotionally is a whole other ballpark.

“Still, what if you were in an accident. Have you ate? Do you know where you’re eating tonight?”

She ate back in Denver and her stomach is growling now, but she mostly just wants a shower and sleep. She’d rather just grab room service for breakfast.

“I’m fine, I’ve ate and I will eat. Stop worrying, now I’m gonna get settled in for the night, I’ll call you after the interview.”

“Wait, ha-”

“Goodbye, mon cher,” Dahlia ends the call after her casual term of endearment, cher and mon cher as normal to her as bud or pal. Maybe it’s just a Cajun French Louisiana thing, or it’s one of the many things she picked up from her dad. She instinctively plays with the ring that hangs from a chain around her neck, he was always so proud of where he came from, teaching her Cajun French from the moment she could talk. Would he be upset with her leaving the state?

She shakes the thought from her head, she can’t concern herself with the opinions of people who aren’t here, as much as they’d mean to her. Dahlia finally has the tools to be independent and make her own way in this world, she needs to seize any and every opportunity. She double checks that her door is locked, before stripping out of her clothes.

Dahlia sets her phone to play music as she takes a shower, singing along to it as hot water eases her aching muscles. Once she’s cleaned, she dries off and starts to make her way to the bed where her luggage is.

The large white blooms on the table between the bed and window, draw her eye, her suspicion confirmed that they’re the same as the fields of flowers she saw on her way here. They must be a common flower here. She’s not a plant person, but she can appreciate pretty flowers when she sees them. The petals are soft against her finger and she pulls out one of the fresh flowers, sniffing at it. It tickles her nose, the soft scent pleasant, but it makes her want to sneeze. She tucks it back in the vase and scrubs at her nose.

Her vision swims for a moment, suddenly light-headed. She hasn’t slept much and has been driving a lot, her eyes must be tired as well.

Dahlia digs some comfy sleeping clothes from her bag to change into. Content in her shorts and tee, the hotel much warmer than the outside chill. She pushes her luggage off her bed and takes a look at the Hope County map.

Her vision is still swimming but she reaffirms where she needs to be tomorrow for her interview. It’s over in Fall’s End at the Sheriff’s Department. Dahlia fishes a marker out of her discarded jacket pocket and then starts to write directions down on her right forearm before tucking the map away.

She rifles a cigarette from her quickly emptying pack, most places don’t like their hotel rooms stinking like nicotine.

Cool air rushes in as she opens the window, she leans against the windowsill, appreciating the view of the moonlight reflecting in the pool of spring water. Montana really is beautiful.

She lights her cigarette, looking away for a second to ignite it.

“Ooooh ooooh~” A soft melodic voice drifts in, piercing the quiet, and Dahlia’s head snaps back to the window.

In the grass, a woman surrounded by green mist spins and dances, singing softly into the night. She’s young, but still older than Dahlia with dirty blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. A white lace dress with flowers across the waist and skirt. Illuminated by moonlight, a heavenly glow, angelic but singing a siren’s song.

Who would be out there at this time of night?

Dahlia’s the only one in the hotel and she doubts the staff indulges in nightly dance sessions.

When did Dahlia start leaning further out the window?

Every fiber of her being screams at her to run to the woman. To jump out the window if she has to, anything to get closer to the hauntingly beautiful woman dancing along the decks before the spring.

Dahlia slams the window shut, quick and hard enough to rattle it. It’s late, she’s exhausted, she’s ridden her bike almost twenty-eight hours straight. Only stopping for a late night in a shitty hotel in Denver before getting back on the road at eight am this morning.

Between ghost stories and exhaustion her brain is fucking with her.

The woman’s singing is still there.

Softer now but still present, still beckoning.

Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared to bolt in order to go find that woman.

She smashes her fist against the side of her head, the impact of her knuckles rattling her skull as she literally tries to knock sense into herself. Her visions seem to clear a bit and she can’t hear the singing anymore, but she also might have concussed herself.

Her cigarette is stamped out before she’s even halfway through it and she’s setting her phone alarm before jumping into the bed.

She buries her face in the pillow, no matter what she hears or thinks she’ll see, she’s not going anywhere until the morning. This interview is the most stressful thing she’s dealt with in years, so much rides on it, and she can’t be exhausted tomorrow from chasing fairy ghosts or what the fuck ever.

Her mind is just playing tricks on her, it’s an asshole, it does that.

She’s not certain exactly when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knows her alarm is going off. Dahlia groans and forces herself out of bed, she hates waking up. Her interview isn’t even late, but god, fuck waking up.

Her head is clearer now, no swimming in her vision and no singing or sirens. She forces her way out of bed, groggily trying to go about her day.

She’s running late, she’s always running late, time isn’t real.

After taking her sweet sleepy time to get herself put together and inhaling a room service breakfast, Dahlia is running down the hotel stairs and scrubbing syrup off her chin. Why does she do this to herself? The receptionist calls out something and she waves her off.

Helmet slapped on and engine revving, she guns it out of the parking lot and makes her way to towards the Valley. She comes to a bridge and pulls her arm from her jacket to read her scribbled directions, remembering too late that she can’t read her own handwriting.

She squints trying to decipher what the hell she wrote, her chicken scratch leaving a lot to be desired. It looks like it might say she’s going to Holland Valley or Halland Volley or Hallard, something to that effect by crossing the Honne…Benne…Rover….Dridge… Why does she do this to herself?

She’s probably on the right track, probably. Dahlia readjusts her jacket, confirming that her mess of directions won’t be getting any clearer the longer she stares at it and makes her way over the bridge. More signs hang from the inner framework of the bridge, half of them bearing a cross symbol with what looks like sunbeams coming from the center, the other half states The Power Of YES; Take The Leap.

Heebie jeebies nest in her gut, those goosebumps from earlier coming back. Religion…

Maybe it was too optimistic, but she had hoped further up North she’d see less of…that. She did searches online and was told based on some statistical thing that Montana was less religious than Louisiana. But apparently religion isn’t completely avoidable in the United States.

The crisp smell of apples manages to break through her helmet as she leaves the bridge. Apple trees as far as the eye can see, bright red fruit gleaming under sunlight, a giant orchard surrounds the road. People mill about the apple trees; couples holding hands and parents hefting their children up on their shoulders to pick the highest apples their little hands can reach. A few people look at her as she rides past, the rev of her engine and the music pounding from her helmet drawing attention. Some looks are judgmental, others unconcerned, a small kid waves at her as she passes by and she waves back, smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. There’s a constructed Apple Statue in the orchard, noting that she’s riding through the Gardenview Orchard.

Over the horizon, built into the hills of the Holland Valley is a giant Hollywood style sign that says ‘YES’. It’s infinitely less creepy than the weird man statue, but far cheesier. Whether that’s better or worse? Who knows, but Hope County is definitely…weirder than she anticipated.

She passes through the orchard and coming up on the left apple trees are replaced with pumpkins on the ground. Fields growing them, some clearly bigger and further along in the growing process, none fully ripe, however. A house is built among the fields, one fence with a sign that says Rae-Rae’s Pumpkin Farm.

There’s a couple walking around, holding hands, but more importantly there’s a dog. A mottled coat of black, white, and blue gray with a bandana around their neck. The dog’s head raises at the rev of Dahlia’s motorcycle engine passing by on the road, tail wagging but he doesn’t run out, a well-trained doggo.

She’s running late.

She doesn’t have time.

One pet can’t hurt.

Dahlia comes to a screeching halt, tires squealing and bracing herself against her handlebars of her bike so she doesn’t fly across the farm. The couple taken aback, staring wide-eyed at her as she kills her music and yanks off her helmet. The doggie is still wagging its tail, eager to meet their new friend.

“Can I pet your dog?”

The couple is older, by Dahlia standards, so probably around their thirties…or forties…or twenties…ages confuse her. A woman with short sandy hair and a man with a knit hat over his head, the woman’s dropped jaw becomes a soft smile, her eyes gentle.

“Of course,” a thick southern accent tints her voice, “Boomer’s doesn’t know a stranger.”

Dahlia stays outside the wooden fence, not wanting to step on crops or something, but she leans over it. Boomer’s big brown eyes landing on her, so cute, she already loves him. A few coos and he’s already rushing over, standing to put his paws at the top of the fence so he can get some much-deserved love. She pets the top of his head, scratching behind his ears and around his neck. He eagerly leans into scritch and pet, licking her.

“Awww, such a good boy, yes you are,” she praises and laughs, soaking it in. Even if she’s running late, this is more than worth it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks.

“Nah, here for a job interview,” Dahlia answers, hugging around Boomer’s neck as she snuggles him.

“Where you interviewing at?”

“Sheriff’s department.”

“You’re kind of young for a cop, ain’tcha?”

“I’m an adult,” she says, shrugging her shoulders through the hug. She is a young adult and that’s all that needs to be said on that.

“They finally trying to fill that deputy position?”

“Seems like it.”

“Sorry, to brush you off so soon, but we have to go pick up some equipment before noon and we’re already cutting it close.”

Shit, right, time. She’s running late too, but the dog was worth it.

“No problem, have a good one, you keep being a good boy, Boomer.”

She gives a final scratch to his head, then slides her helmet back on, waving off the couple as she hops back on her bike. Her nerves have eased slightly at having gotten some time with a dog and even if she’s late, she doesn’t regret it.

Her engine revs and she’s back to traveling down the quiet Montana roads. The sheriff’s department is in Fall’s End. A water tower baring the town’s name lets her know she’s arrived in the right area. It’s not a huge town. Along the main road, there’s the sheriff’s department, a general store, a bar, a church. There’s little streets and roadways showing that beyond those there’s houses and an apartment complex. Not huge, but certainly bigger than where she’s from, which…isn’t saying much.

Dahlia parks her motorcycle outside the sheriff’s department, all those initially dissipated nerves are bubbling back to the surface. Her stomach in absolute knots and her muscles tense with anxiety. She shuts off her bike and pockets her keys then pulls off her helmet, fiddling with her hair. A deep breath, before she finally steels herself to step into the building.

There’s a desk to Dahlia’s right when she enters the building, an older woman with a layered bob of red hair.

“There something I can help you with, darling?” Her southern accented voice asks.

“I have an interview with the sheriff.”

“Really,” the woman’s eyes scan Dahlia up and down, eyebrows furrowed in judgement, “can I get your name?”

“Hale,” she murmurs, once again fiddling with her messy strands of dark hair. She knows she doesn’t exactly look the most professional right now. But professional clothes and motorcycles don’t truly mix. The woman, her desk tag says N. McClure, shuffles through some documents and reads over something.

“Okay, just take a seat and I’ll let Earl know you’re here.”

Dahlia plops down in one of the reception area’s chairs, fiddling with the cat ears on her motorcycle helmet. Her leg bounces up and down, shaking out excess energy as the woman at the desk starts to call back, asking for Whitehorse. It’ll be fine, Dahlia reassures herself, Lloyd and Caroline have been talking her up to their old friend. All she needs to do is be herself, maybe, probably not. She’s kind of a mess.

The clock hand ticks slowly, Dahlia feeling like she’s about to go crazy waiting for her interview to start. Finally, the woman hangs up the phone she was calling back to Whitehorse on, a soft smile on her face that pulls at the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Earl’s ready to talk to you, come on back.”

The older woman steps out and helps show Dahlia to the office door, passing through a bullpen style office area to get there, Sheriff Whitehorse is scrawled on a plaque by the door. Dahlia knocks and he tells her to come on in, she slowly opens the door and steps in. There’s a modest sized quaint office with only a few personal touches. She’s only seen old photos Lloyd had of himself and Whitehorse, from way back in police academy. The man before her is much older than he was in those photos, weathered with wrinkled skin. He looks like an old sheriff pulled directly from a movie; green uniform, cowboy hat, scraggly brown hair, and a mustache.

“You’re Lloyd and Caroline’s Stray, right?” He says, standing up from his desk to shake her hand over it. He’s over a foot taller than her, probably close to a foot and a half. His hand swallows her own whole, it’s probably bigger than her face.

“Holy shit, you’re tall.”

That’s not a good way to start an interview, but he seems to be laughing and smiling. So, maybe it’s fine. Lloyd once said she has a charm about her despite her lack of tact or decorum. She’s still trying to figure out what that charm is, but still.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. She follows suit, leg still bouncing like it was in the waiting room. Whitehorse puts a manilla folder down on the desk, the little tab labeled D. Hale. It’s surprisingly thick for someone who’s never met her in person.

“Lloyd and Caroline talk highly of you, hell the whole town does.”

“The whole town…?” She raises an eyebrow, what’s that supposed to mean? Reinette, Louisiana is a small town, it’s police department has about six people in total and everyone knows everyone. But certainly, they wouldn’t call up Whitehorse to talk about her.

“I swear Lloyd must have handed out the stations number to everyone down there, we’ve been getting two, three calls a day of people who can’t say enough good things about you.”

“Oh god.” Heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks, god damn it, Lloyd.

“You’ve left quite an impression on the place.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Dahlia pushes some hair off her face, fidgeting with the locks.

“And you haven’t been working there long, have you?”

“Not counting training, about a year and a half, I know I don’t have much experience.”

“Still making such an impact in a short amount of time, says something.”

“Thanks.” His words soothe her nerves and embarrassment a bit, maybe this will go well.

“But, there’s the issue of your record…”

“My record…?” She shouldn’t have a record, he opens the manilla folder and she feels bile raise in the back of her throat.

“Between what’s on the books and what everyone was saying, I was starting to wonder if there were two of you, Hale. Runaways, break in, fights, attempted grand theft auto, and petty thefts, the list goes on. Doesn’t exactly scream future cop.”

“I thought records got expunged at eighteen.”

“If you request it.”

“Oh…well then…”

“I know this all happened when you were a minor and you’ve been clear for the past two or so years, but…”

“It still looks bad, I know, I know. I’m not going to try to tell you some bullshit excuse or sob story. I did a lot of shit I shouldn’t have for a lot of reasons. I regret most of it, not all of it, but most of it. Lloyd and Caroline helped me get my life back on track, I know two years doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’m not the same kid I was when I did that shit.”

That what she tells him, but she’s not sure how much she believes it. It feels more like her situation’s changed than she’s changed, but if she just said that she’s no longer a delinquent because she doesn’t need to be, well, it wouldn’t sound as good or employable.

“What made you wanna be a cop?”

“Wanted to help people,” she answers with a shrug, it’s not really anything more complicated than that. Whitehorse huffs out what sounds like a laugh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, I gotta ask, why here? Lloyd and the whole town loves you. It’s a hell of a move and the pay raise ain’t much.”

“Look,” she sighs and folds her hands on top of her motorcycle helmet, calming her body down, “I love Reinette, I love Lloyd and I love Caroline. I owe them and the whole town a debt that I’ll never pay back. But, I’m twenty years old. I’m not their kid and even if I was it’d be time for me to go, I’ve taken enough of their time, money, and everything. Reinette, bless the town’s heart, it’s...dying. There’s more cows than people, our station has more cars than officers. It won’t be long before they do away with the town’s department and just do everything through the Parish. And the parish’s department doesn’t need any more officers.”

Her throat constricts as bile raises in the back of it, her stomach churning. After everything that town and its people have done for her, she’s leaving them. A traitor, betrayer.

“You figure any of those officers will even find work in the parish, at all?” He asks with a knowing, soft look in his eye. If he keeps in contact with Lloyd, he’s already well aware of the trouble in Reinette.

“I doubt it, town’s a sinking ship. Lloyd…he’s willing to go down with it,” her eyes sting and she clenches her jaw, containing herself, “I can’t do that. As much as they all mean to me, I can’t. Lloyd’s gonna retire when it goes under, I’m twenty, the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m trying to help people; I’m trying to make a difference. But my hands keep getting tied because of money, resources, anything and everything. Lloyd and Caroline gave me the means and the tools to make something of myself, I’m not gonna piss that away because some fucker decided we weren’t worth investing in, I…”

She’s clenching her fists and nearly smacking her helmet, anger and frustration welling up inside of her, a geyser of emotions threatening to break through. This is an interview, she can’t do this, can’t be emotional. She needs to stop this, a deep breath before she starts to speak again.

“I can do more here, I know no place is perfect, but I can do more here.”

“Well, no one can say you’re not passionate.” Whitehorse lets out another chuckle, seemingly amused.

“Sorry, certain shit, just winds me up.” She massages the back of her neck, why is she such a fucking idiot? No one wants to hire a cop who can’t keep their cool and throws a fit. She was supposed to tone down her dumbassery, not ramp it up.

“There’s nothing wrong with caring about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” She half-heartedly agrees, Whitehorse is trying to make her feel better. Her interview has become him trying to console her, absolutely pathetic. She might as well call Lloyd and Caroline now and tell them she blew it.

“You got any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

Did she just fuck this up as bad as she thinks she did?

“Not really, I just wanna get to work.” That earns her another chuckle from Whitehorse, even if he doesn’t think she’s competent, at least she’s entertaining it seems.

“Full of piss and vinegar, ain’t ya?”

“To say the least.” She lets out a dry laugh, but there’s no mirth of joy behind it. Not a shred of happiness as she thinks about what a fucking idiot she is.

“Well, if that’s all,” Whitehorse stands up from his desk, “I’ll go ahead and show you out.”

Dahlia stands up, the sheriff places a large hand on her back as they leave his office, finding their way back into the reception area.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Hale.”

“Same, thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” She’s sure that he’d rather be doing literally anything else, especially after that beyond trash interview.

“It’s no problem at all, I-”

The doors to the department open, a man and a woman in green deputy uniforms coming in. Another giant, the man is barely an inch of two shorter than Whitehorse, with shaggy dark hair and hazel eyes. More importantly, the woman while taller doesn’t absolutely tower over Dahlia, her long black hair is braided over her shoulder and her olive skin makes her hunter green eyes stand out all the more.

Dahlia’s throat feels tight and her heart race is a little faster. So…that’s a thing.

“We running a daycare, now?” The guy asks, looking down his nose at Dahlia, though that might just be because of the height difference. Either way, she glares at him, he’s been around her a grand total of five seconds and he’s being a dick.

“Pratt…” The woman, her name tag says J. Hudson, rolls her eyes at him. Her voice is warm and rich; why is Dahlia’s face so hot? Is she sick? Has the Montana weather already kicked her ass, what is this?

“This is one of the interviewees. Hale, these are my deputies.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hudson flashes a soft smile and what is Dahlia’s heart doing? It’s like someone’s squeezing it and filled her gut with bugs while they were at it. She fucks up an interview and now she needs a doctor, great.

“Same, I was, uh, just on my way out actually.” She needs to go sleep off whatever the fuck has just hit her.

“Good luck,” the taller woman gives a friendly tap to Dahlia’s bicep, “hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you around here.”

Dahlia is dying.

That’s the only explanation. She fucked up an interview and now she has the heart plague or some shit, hell of a day.

“Uh, yeah, I, um, ‘preciate it.” She’s avoiding eye contact and she doesn’t know why she's stumbling over her words and she doesn’t know why.

“Pssh,” Pratt scoffs, “she’s gonna need it.”

Suddenly, she can talk again. Weird. Hudson and Whitehorse shake their heads, clearly use to his bullshit

“Sorry about Pratt, he’s, well he’s Pratt.”

“Eh, every station has at least one cop who’s just trying to make up for his tiny dick.”

“I assure you, I-”

“Enough,” Whitehorse cuts him off, talking like he’s breaking up a child’s squabbling. Doesn’t really help make her look any more mature or competent, way to steer into the skid, Dahlia.

“For the millionth time, no one wants to hear about your dick, Pratt.” Hudson rolls her eyes, why is that being said for the millionth time?

“Well, that’s certainly my cue to go, have a good one.”

Dahlia quickly waves off the sheriff and deputies, making her escape. She takes the couple steps to her motorcycle with quick rigid movement, making sure she’s away from windows or the glass door, not wanting any of them to see her.

She lets out a low guttural groan muffled by how tightly her jaw is clenched jaw and knocks her knuckles against the back of her head.

Idiot, she fucked everything up by going on some huge ass fucking rant.

Despite the distance, this was a phenomenal opportunity the best she’s had. It’s not like she hasn’t looked into place in Louisiana, but something is always wrong. She’s never made it as far as the interview. Either she never gets a call back, maybe they’d seen her records the same way Whitehorse did and didn’t even bother giving her that chance. Or she’d learn the town, parish, city, whatever was no better off than Reinette. One of the sheriffs she talked to on the phone knew her stepfather and recognized her name, nearly making her puke before she hung up.

This was beyond a shadow of a doubt the best chance she’s had. Whitehorse has the Lloyd seal of approval which is as good as gold. And as much as the distance is guilt inducing…, the fear of betrayal and abandoning people who mean so much to her. But, she needs somewhere far away.

As many good memories as Lloyd, Caroline, and the people of Reinette have given her. There are still too many bad ones, too many people figuring out where she came from, one too many bad memories trying to be more than just that. As much as it may eat her up to leave, it’ll eat her up even more to stay. Between the impending unemployment and her own past, every good moment there has a shadow looming over it.

When she gets back to Reinette she’ll start working to get her record taken care of. Once that’s settled, it’s back to job hunting. A bump in the road, a moment of frustration, but she’ll come out the other end. She always does.

Her stomach growls, burning through a pack of cigarettes and stress binge eating sound like a great way to deal with this. She’ll find some place to stuff her face and call Lloyd once she gets back to the hotel.

There’s a general store, she doesn’t know if the bar lets minors in, so it’s probably her best place to grab some quick snack. She plops her helmet on and makes the short drive to the store, parking her bike outside and pulling her helmet back off to light a cigarette by the dumpsters. Her stressed brain is desperately craving nicotine.

She rips open her pack of cigarettes and lights one up, bringing it to her lips. Smoke pools in her lungs, clawing to her insides and easing her nerves if only for a second. Holding it there for a moment before breathing it out into the air. Her eyes are drawn to the neon sign of The Spread Eagle bar, even bright in the daylight. It also seems to have some activity despite the early hour. Well, early for a bar. A white truck pulls up in front of the building, a man with long grungy hair climbing out of the passenger seat.

Those odd pains in her chest and churns in her stomach fade as she inhales the smoke, looking up at the clear blue sky. A soft breeze blows through, carrying the gray trails away with it. Montana really is beautiful…

“Get back here!” A woman yells out, door to the bar swinging open violent as the man with long hair comes rushing back out, arms piled high with crates of alcohol.

Dahlia drops her cigarette and helmet, bolting towards the bar, as the thief tries to scramble into the back of the pickup truck. He gets the crates set down, but she’s grabbed the back of his shirt before he can climb in. A harsh yank, pulling the tall man back into her and away from the truck. She encircles her arms under his armpits and locks her hands behind his neck, grappling into a full nelson hold that keeps him from running off. The odd angle of these heights and the way he was yanked from the back of the truck leaves him on his knees in his grasp.

“Someone call the sheriff’s department!” She yells out, she doesn’t have any jurisdiction here or cuffs to actually arrest the guy.

He tries to fight back against the hold, attempting to break free, but all he manages to do is writhe and squirm. The door of the truck swings open, the driver jumping out, his feet hitting the ground with a heavy sound. Another man easily a foot or more taller than her.

“Help me, brother Theodore,” the man in her hold struggles to beg for help.

“We have strict orders from John Seed to confiscate this liquor.”

“Don’t know or care who that is, mon cher.”

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to know him,” the guy tells her, sneering and she sees his finger twitch, brushing over the gun in his belt holster. She can’t have firearms going off in a residential area.

“All you’ll do is end up shootin’ your friend, don’t be stupid. Liquor ain’t worth bloodshed.”

He lets out a sigh and his hand relax, something clicking in his mind. The man, Theodore, chews his lip, eyes flickering as she nearly sees the gears turning in his head.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar rough voice asks over Dahlia’s shoulder, she doesn’t need to look to know Whitehorse has come to investigate. Even if she did, she wouldn’t dare look away from the man in front of her, not until she’s sure he won’t try to shoot.

“These pieces of shit peggies were trying to steal my liquor stash,” a woman explains, somewhere behind Dahlia.

“Liquors still in the back of the truck,” Dahlia tells them, none of it seemed to break, so hopefully it won’t hurt the bar too much.

“If it wasn’t for her, they would have cost me a month’s worth of sales.”

“Pratt, Hudson,” Whitehorse calls the names of his deputies.

“I got it here,” Hudson taps on Dahlia arm, cuffs in hand, and that weird heart thing is happening again.

“Um, yeah, o-of course.” She maneuvers away from the guy, she’s never stumbled over her words like that before. Hudson cuffs the guy and starts reading his rights off.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” Pratt barks out at the Theodore guy who's surprisingly obedient as he lets the deputy cuff him.

Dahlia scratches at her nose, watching the scene unfold. She’s finally gotten a good look at the woman who was being robbed.

And, not only is everyone here tall, they’re also apparently beautiful. The woman is than both Dahlia and Hudson, with honey blonde hair tucked up into a bun and soft blue eyes. Her features are soft, cherubic almost, with freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Have women always been this pretty?

When did women start being this pretty?

The fuck is her heart doing?

“Looks like it’s a good thing you were here,” Whitehorse tells her, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “you managed to get Mary May’s liquor back and stopped it from escalating.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Someone you know, sheriff?” The blonde, Mary May asks. His smile gets wider and he squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a comforting touch.

“This is my new Junior Deputy.”

“I am?”

He’s not serious, there’s no way, he has to be fucking with her.

“Unless you changed your mind?”

“Hell no,” she shakes her head, “I am the new Junior Deputy, wait, Junior?”

“You’ll start with a six-month probationary hire, paid of course, manage that and we’ll take you on permanently.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You’ll start next, c’mon down to the station Mary, we’ll book ‘em and get your report in.”

“See you around, stranger,” Mary May tells her as she follows after Whitehorse, Hudson and Pratt forcing the thieves along. Theodore shooting a glare Dahlia’s way.

“Look forward to working with you, Rookie.”

“Pfft, I give her a week, tops.”

And with that, Dahlia is left alone on the road of Falls End…with a new job.

She got the job.

She’s got to get through the probationary hire, but she got the job. Holy shit. Holy shit. And she starts in a week. She needs to call Lloyd and Caroline, she needs to find somewhere to live, there’s so much to do.

Dahlia is practically skipping back over to her helmet and bike. She’s gotta start getting her ducks in a row.

She speeds her way back through Hope County, making her way back to the hotel. She has so many fucking calls to make and shit to go through. Before she knows it she’s back in the Kings Spring Hotel parking lot, fumbling to get her phone. As silly as it may be, she’d rather call Lloyd and Caroline in a less populated area. She’s grinning ear to ear, enough to hurt her cheeks, she looks like a dork and that’s not going to get any better. Helmet under her arm, she dials Lloyd as she paces in the isolated parking lot.

“How’d it go?” Lloyd is asking before she even says hi.

“Six months, probationary hire, then we’ll go from there.”

‘So, you got the job?”

“That was the bummer way of saying I got the job, yeah.”

“I can hear you smiling!”

“Shut it!”

“Caroline! She got the job, yeah!”

“I,” she rubs a hand down her face, “I thought for sure I blew it.”

“What changed?”

“Some bar across the street got robbed right after my interview, I stepped in, next thing I know I’m the Junior Deputy.”

“Holy fuck, do you know what that is, Stray?”

“Dumb luck?”

“Fate, Stray, it’s fucking fate! The world telling you that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be!”

“You really are a sap, ain’t ya?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m staying another night here, but once I hop off I gotta start looking into where I’m gonna stay. I start in a week, so I gotta start moving, I’ll see you all in two or three days once I make the drive. It’s gonna be tight, but I’ll manage.”

“Man, you’re really leaving.”

“No crying.”

“Seems like yesterday Caroline found you in the barn.”

“No crying.”

“You were so thin, just a little bag of bones…” His voice is choking up.

“I’m hanging up, you cry baby!”

She does just that, smiling up at the sky. It’s happening, it’s really happening. It feels like the start of a new life, a new her. There’s a jump in her step as she makes her way back into the hotel, room service food and she’ll start making phone calls.

“Miss Hale!” The soft lilted voice of the receptionist calls out when she sees Dahlia.

“Oh, hey.” Dahlia walks to the desk, head tilted in question, what could she need?

“A heads up, we’re switching the water in the tank for the shower and bath system to water pumped in from the spring.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“It’s so much more relaxing than regular tap water, be sure to use it tonight.”

“Uh yeah, thanks, by the way can I order some room service?”

“Of course.”

Dahlia goes through her order for room service, being assured the order will be put in and delivered before she knows it. With that she goes back up to her room, she starts digging through the bedside drawer, searching for a phone book for the area. There’s a white book in the top drawer, with that same strange cross like symbol that was on the signs along the bridge. She throws it on the bed, finding a local phone book beneath it, much more important.

She starts rifling through pages. Hope County is mostly a trailer park town, for people who can’t afford to build or buy an actual home and land. There is an apartment complex in Falls End, but the rent is high for pretty small apartments. The prices probably jacked since housing is so limited. She’d rather get a whole trailer to herself for cheaper and just travel further for work.

Hours pass by her making phone calls, seeing about housing and stuffing food in her face when she’s not talking. The Silver Lake Trailer Park that’s nearest the station has no vacancy or trailers available for rent, but they refer her to the Moonflower Trailer Park. It’s some distance, but with how fast she rides her bike, it’s doable. It’s the only place with vacancy, she’ll drop by with a down payment and check out the trailer tomorrow before she heads back to Louisiana to get her stuff and everything tidied up there. The world outside the hotel window has gone dark, moon hanging bright in the sky.

That settled she finishes off her food and collapses back on the bed. She’s still smiling, grinning ear to ear.

“Wooooooo!” She yells out and pumps her fist up at the ceiling, fuck yeah, she’s got this.

She’ll grab one of those spring water showers and then pass out for the night. She grabs her phone and sets it up to play music in the bathroom while she washes up. Her clothes hit the floor, air conditioner chilling her skin as she waits for the water to heat up. It has a soft floral scent and is tinted slightly green, spring water.

She steps in under the hot spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and dirt of the day. Her muscles relax under the water and steam, as she scrubs the hotel soap into her skin. She blinks her eyes open once she’s done washing her hair, finding her vision clouding, her body feeling heavier and heavier. Must be the exhaustion of the day. Dahlia quickly finishes washing, the last thing she needs is to fall asleep in the shower again.

Her steps are shaky, her body swaying as the world swims around her. Colors distort and shift in prisms before her eyes. It’s like the night before, but times a million. Her movements sluggish as she dries herself and quickly pulls on her sleep clothes. She was feeling ill earlier, maybe it’s catching up to her? But it doesn’t feel the same. Not panicky and nervous. One of her favorite songs starts to play through her phone, though its eerie tones aren’t as welcomed in this moment.

She grips the sink for leverage, steadying herself as she looks into the mirror

All our times have come.

Her dark brown eyes aren’t dark brown, not quite. She tugs at her eyelids, the iris growing milkier and lighter than she’s ever seen it. What the hell is this? A soft melodic laugh echoes through the room, like it’s near.

Here but now they're gone.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, finding her empty bedroom. Nothing unusual.

Seasons don't fear the reaper.

The laugh rings out again, a flash of white passing by her open door. When did it open? She didn’t leave it open.

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain...

She’s walking out her door before she can give it another thought, looking back and forth across the hall, who’s there?

We can be like they are

Her feet pad down the hallway, steps suddenly sure and confident as she tries to follow the voice. Like her body is being drawn, pulled, following sheer instinct. She needs to find them.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

A flash of white, the swish of lace fabric, that laugh again vanishing into one of the rooms. Dahlia is there, trying to wrench open the door. Then it rings out from behind her.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

A woman stands at the end of a long hallway, the one from the tight before. Long sandy hair and beautiful green eyes. A blue butterfly perches itself on her fingers, the woman looking at it in awe. Dahlia takes slow steps forward, she wants to speak, ask who she is and what she’s doing here. But her tongue is heavy, her throat tight, vocal cords numb, not a sound escaping.

Baby I'm your man...

Green eyes flicker from the butterfly to Dahlia, a soft almost mischievous smile tugging at the woman’s lips. She laughs again as Dahlia nears her, then she runs, childish and giggling she runs towards one of the rooms. Dahlia is chasing her even after she vanishes from sight, legs moving without her permission, instinct driving her to reach this woman. She doesn’t know why, but she needs to reach her, touch her. Be closer.

La la la la la

The laughter turns into soft humming, singing echoing through the halls. Somehow the sound is everywhere, all consuming and right in her ear, but also distant the source too far away for her to find. She walks down the halls, taking turns and climbing up stairs, following her instinct that pulls her in each direction she goes.

Valentine is done

Flashes of white fabric, doors closing and shutting. It’s a game of tag that she can’t seem to win, the small hotel has somehow become a labyrinth as she tries to find the humming woman. Short hallways and few rooms have been traded for never ending paths with room lining them.

Here but now they're gone

Sometimes spacious and open, other times claustrophobic, choking, walls scraping the skin of her arms where she has to fear she might become stuck. More halls and more floors than she’s ever seen, winding paths that make her dizzy. But she can’t stop searching for that woman.

Romeo and Juliet

One more turn, the woman is at the end of a hallway. Standing before a door, softly singing to what is now two butterflies balanced on her fingers. Dahlia starts to walk down the hallway, tight, claustrophobic. She keeps her hands on the walls as if it will give her more space, as if she could force the walls to open wider for her.

Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet

Her heartbeat races as she walks closer and closer, the walls threatening to crush her between them. She can hardly breathe, every breath ragged and tight. Dying. She feels like she’s dying, air being stolen from her lungs and heart pounding lie it’s trying to escape her chest. It worsens with every step she takes near the woman.

40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet

Some part of her brain, the small part that doesn’t have a thick haze of fog clinging to it, tells her to run the other way. That with this feeling only growing with every step towards the siren, with her heart pounding harsher, breathing getting raspier, she’ll die if she keeps going. That this truly is a siren luring her to death, but she can’t listen to that part of her. Her body won’t. She needs to reach her.

40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness

She’s getting closer and closer; the woman isn’t running this time. Just calming singly, like she doesn’t even notice Dahlia. She tries to reach out for the woman, her fingers nearly brushing the woman’s dress sleeve.

Another 40,000 coming everyday... We can be like they are

Then the woman walks through the door, Dahlia could curse and cry if her vocal cords would only work. Once again, the woman evading her, being just out of reach. But this hall has no doors along its sides, no turns or twists. The only two options are going back or going through the door after her. It’s not even a choice.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

She wrenches the door open and she’s in another world. No more wood walls and floors, her bare feet touching lush grass that tickles her skin. White petals float in the air and scatter across the ground. Trees curl around the area and when she looks out at the horizon, she sees that large statue of that man looming over the area.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

When she looks straight ahead at the middle of the field is the woman, she twirls, short white dress fanning out around her hips. She stops, turning to face Dahlia, she smiles softly. Delicate and angel like, she stretches her hand out. An offer, a beckoning.

We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper

The feeling of impending death lifts the very moment she sees the woman. Her heartbeat and her breathing easing, relief and contentment filling her body. She’s smiling and she doesn’t know why she feels alive. Free, like she can do anything. She’s walking closer and closer to the woman, each step making her happier and happier. Her body lighter and lighter. Calm and peace, she’s never known. She’s right where she belongs, she doesn’t need to be anywhere else.

Dahlia reaches out, finally about to touch her, a touch of their hands is so simple, so minor. But it feels like the only thing she wants. All she’s ever want, like every moment in her entire life has been building up to this, being here with her, whoever she is.

Before skin can meet skin, the siren fades to mist.

No, no, no!

She grasps desperately at the air where the woman once was, her heart racing, her lungs stinging like the airs been knocked out of them. The world is crumbling, falling down, everything going out beneath her feet. It’s falling apart and she can’t stop it, she can’t fix it.

Dahlia takes a heavy gasp, desperately sucking in a heavy breath and she blinks, the world around her has completely shifted. Her vision isn’t blurred, no more prisms of color before her eyes.

Cold, goosebumps raising up on her skin, shorts and tee doing nothing to save her from the Montana breeze. She’s outside the hotel, in the world she knows. That damn statue looming still in the distance ahead of her.

Dull.

The landscaped she was so mesmerized by this day, seems so dull now. She feels dull, after so many emotions, so much intensity both in fear and happiness…she feels so numb. Dahlia rubs her fingers together, her craving for the feeling of another’s hand in her own…there’s an ache. She was so close, but now she’s been plunged back into reality.

She stands out in the field outside the hotel, staring at that cement statue, it still seems to call her. Her heart telling her to go towards that looming structure, but her head tells her to go back inside the hotel.

So, she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring.

“Miss Hale!” A voice pulls her further back into reality, the hotel receptionist walking out towards her with a large blanket.

Dahlia blinks a few times, she no longer feels numb, the very real emotion of shame flooding in. She’s standing out in public, in her pajamas. Did she just wander out of her hotel room in her sleep clothes? She must look ridiculous.

“Hey…”

“Is everything alright? You just walked out of your hotel, looked like you were sleepwalking.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

That makes sense, she must have went to bed and had a weird dream…yeah.

“Here,” the woman wraps the large blanket around Dahlia, “you must be freezing.”

“Thanks, sorry, I, just, weird dream.” She murmurs as they walk back to the hotel, Dahlia giving one last glance at the hotel.

“Dreams are nice, aren’t they? Sometimes you just wanna stay there forever.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #john seed #faith seed #jacob seed #deputy oc #This Is Love #Dahlia Hale

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lady-of-glass-and-bone · 5 years ago

Text

Nine Lives and Then Some

I just bought 1-4 of the Final Destination movies and I needed to do this.

Death x Reader

Warnings: death/angst

Death has a job to do and you're just making it harder.

(picture is of ‘Death on the Pale Horse’ Gustave Dore,1865)

You had somehow managed to stir one of the universes most powerful and inescapable forces into a frenzy that would be spoken of for eons.

Death was normally cool and collected even when a human or few managed to inadvertently skirt away from their end. There was always another spool of phenomenon to unfurl around the humans, leading them to the inevitable time of departure.

Delays didn't mean much when you had all of time to work around some bumps in the road.

But you. You weren't simply a bump. You were a mountain, just plopped down right in the middle of all the carefully laid plans and schemes.

Death had respect for humans, truly. Even more so for the ones who became aware of the plan and tried (but eventually failed) to rewrite the end. To escape, scrambling for more time.

But you? You were just mocking Death because you didn't even seem to be trying to avoid it! Didn't even seem to notice. Or didn't care. But then how were you still alive?

You were driving Death up the proverbial walls, stirring the ire of an ancient force who wielded unlimited power.

And you had no clue.

You took a different route for no real reason at the last second on your way to some mundane errand and had Death wishing for eyes simply so it could claw at them.

You woke up late one morning to a deadly yet simple trap Death had set in your very own home only to spot and avoid it, and frankly, that was more embarrassing than Death would ever admit to.

A simple distraction created for a driver as you went to cross the street, only for you to hesitate in your steps, looking over your shoulder at a barking dog. Death could only look on, boiling in irritation, at your smiling face as you showered the dog with attention.

Death didn't take breaks. Could multitask like it was nobody's business. You were merely one of many humans on the list and while some took more finesse and planning, to check off, you were confounding.

But you had to go! It was as simple as that.

Death knew humans sometimes took a step back from projects to refresh their minds or to gain some perspective on it as a whole. So that's what Death did, stepped away to focus on other humans that needed to go.

So Death crafted other plans, stacked up action against action in intricate detail only to pull a string, sit back, and watch them all tumble against each other into chaotic order.

None of which involved you.

Not that Death didn't keep an eye on you though. Looking in on you at least one maybe five okay fine seven times a day, for purely observational reasons, of course. There was absolutely no other reason for Death to be so invested in such a happy silly, resilient frustrating, lovely puny, intelligent irritating, force of nature human other than to make a trap that you couldn't unknowingly wriggle your way out of.

And it worked. Until it didn't.

It was during one of Death's daily observations of you that it happened. You were walking home from work at a small shop which sold flowers. The evening sun was stretching orange light across the sky as it sank toward the horizon between the skyscrapers.

You lived in a city where streets were crowded and buildings sat snug beside bigger buildings. And in Death's line of work, cities were a hot bed for accidents and crime, easily manipulated to fit a plan.

And crime was a tool, a horrible one yes, but Death wielded it just the same. Fate dealt with it more often than not, pushing or shielding humans to and from it.

Beings such as them didn't dwell on who it hurt because it was in the plan, a part of the bigger picture.

That being said, Death didn't always have a conscious hand in every humans passing, some just happened. Fate sometimes helped (or hindered, depending on the situation) with those. Just simple acts that led to simple casualties.

Not even Death was privy to Fate's inner workings, the why's attached to the who's weren't Death's concern. Not til you.

Now it was rushing towards you like a. . . well, like a bullet.

Your observant nature and kind heart would lay you out on the hard cement of the city. Just another body. It was as vivid as blood on snow, unfolding in a minuscule amount of time now that it was holding the full attention of the timeless being.

It made Death feel small, frozen. Afraid.

You heard struggling in the alley, one you walked by every day, a muted voice with vicious intent. The thud of a hit connecting with it's target. Flesh on flesh.

"Hey!" Your voice sounded louder as it bounced off the alley walls. One, two, three small steps in and it was over.

The gun was lifted away from intimidating it's original target and aimed at you. The hand holding it was young. Startled.

You only had time to blink, eyes going wide as they focused on the weapon. Your last thought was that you had only ever seen one on TV and in movies.

And then you felt pain bloom in your chest, knocking the air right out of your lungs as the impact sent you backward, skull cracking on the pavement. You never caught your breath.

The bullet was aimed with an accuracy that the man holding it would never fully understand. It hadn't been your voice that startled him first.

There had been a tap on his shoulder, he would tell the cops later when they tracked him down, but when he turned to look it was just you. Standing at the mouth of the alley, too far away and looking fiercely concerned.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. Death knew that. Death didn't particularly care.

Sometimes accidents happened. But Death wasn't behind this one. Death was on the opposite side this time and it burned like an imploding star.

Death understood the tears and wails at funerals. Finally, it was clear how one human death could create so much more pain than any physical wound.

Death had been trying to kill you without knowing why. You were just on the list. And now, Death could never see you again. Someone had done the job right.

No more watching you whisper to the plants about inane things. No more wondering why you were always kind to that one neighbor who was endlessly in a foul mood.

No more smiles and petting strangers dogs or reaching for dreams only you knew about.

If Death had anyone around to notice, they would say the fierce and rigid immortal was in mourning.

The plans became more ruthless, deaths more painful and grisly. But Death never took any human that wasn't on the list. Not even if they got in the way or tried to stop the plan.

The guilt came and went. Death was all powerful but apparently not enough to save you. Maybe Fate just got sick of you being around when you shouldn't have and took action.

Did Fate know how much you had wormed your way into Death's thoughts. Had you become a distraction?

Eventually, with confusion and guilt weighing it down, Death took a break.

Being on Earth was not new for Death, nor was having a human body.

The first thing the newly suited Death did was walk to all the places it had seen you visit the most. The flower shop. A coffee place that you only ever ordered hot chocolate from. A small dinner with a simple menu you had all but memorized.

Your home was the last place Death visited. Bending the rules and simply slipping through walls and doors until suddenly Death was there.

The middle of your living room was half packed away. Pictures gone from shelves, books probably donated somewhere, plants wilting.

The smell was new to Death, the smell of you. Warmth, chocolate, earthy. It was stronger in the bedroom, the only room that was seemingly untouched.

Sitting on the end of your bed, Death looks solemnly around.

It was the brightest room by far, not to the human eye but Death could see the aura you had left etched into the walls.

It would fade and Death would stay until every single speck blinked out. A decade or a hundred years, it didn't matter.

Fate could make plans and steal lives for whatever reasons that were deemed necessary and Death could take a damn break.

"I thought you'd be coming sooner." A voice so familiar breaks the quiet and Death almost doesn't believe it's yours. But there you are, standing in the doorway, solid and there but only to Death.

Smiling at Death, no pain, no blood and no hesitation. You hold out your hand.

"I didn't mean to make such a fuss," you say, smile faltering a bit "I was just following my gut."

"Well," Death takes in a great, unnecessary breath and stands "I cannot fault you for that, you did cheat me a time or two."

"Ha ha, aren't you hilarious."

Your hand is warm when Death takes hold of it, loosely at first but your grip tightens. No letting go now.

Death feels a smile pull across it's face and you return it, absolutely glowing.

"You gonna show me all the big secrets?" Now you're grinning, voice breathy and excited.

"And then some" Death promises with a kiss to your hand.

#final destination #death as a character #is death the ultimate slasher?#slashers #slashers x reader #duck did it #slasher community

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kazablanka96 · 5 years ago

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Do you have any pwp stucky fic recs? I've been looking for some on ao3 for a while but I haven't been able to find any good pwp fics with good writing, good mature scenes and development, they're just so corny, like gimme some good plot man! x.x

Hi anon! ❤️

First of all, I wouldn’t describe a fic corny because no matter what, they are someone’s hard work and effort and there’s always something to love in everything. That being said, I understand different people have different tastes, so I searched in my stash of fic and my goal in the end was to find you ones that were more focused on the plot and character development than that on the smut part of the story. Almost all of them are E rated (and too long), so you know the good stuff are coming.

I am so sorry if these weren’t what you were asking for, but you can always send in another ask and I’d be more than happy to do another search with a different criteria in mind. And if anyone knows of a different fic the anon, or anyone really, can benefit from, please drop it in the notes!

All the fics are under the cut because they are over 50 and that’s a long post.

These Streets ‘verse: The trials and tribulations of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his experiences with the locals in his precinct, as well as his involvement with the stupidly handsome roughneck from the ‘hood, Bucky Barnes.

The Firing Line: When Steve’s dad is diagnosed with cancer, Steve returns to his childhood home to support his mom – a small town called Gold Cliff, Colorado. Ten years before, he left Gold Cliff behind him, left his no-longer-best-friend Bucky Barnes behind him, with the intention of never seeing him ever again. But Bucky Barnes crash-lands back into his life nonetheless, long-haired and one-armed and haunted, keeping secrets from day one.

Institutions of Love and Incarceration: The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn’t seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It’s hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction…that is, until he’s assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge.

There Is No Shortage of Blood: The long slow recovery of Bucky Barnes after his escape from HYDRA. (And the longer, slower recovery of his sex life.)

Choices We’re Given: Steve Rogers is a good man and a good agent. There’s really no excuse for the assassin in his bed.

Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same: Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

What Gladiators Fight For: A new gladiator is brought to Ludus Stark. Steve Rogers is a disgraced soldier, who refused to fight for Rome.He doesn’t want his actions decided by others anymore, and accepts death until Bucky changes his mind. Steve fights to stop Bucky being sold back to his previous master, and Tony exploits the bond blossoming between them. He makes a bargain with Steve, if he fights and wins, Bucky will spend the night with Steve in his cell.Steve wins every fight, until the finale in the Colosseum. Hes not fighting for Bucky, but his Freedom, but is Freedom worth it without Bucky by his side.

If I Was There: Steve is lonely and the number on his phone-screen is unfamiliar. He’s not the social type, not even close, yet there’s something about the man on the other side that makes him interested. He doesn’t hang up until two hours later.-Wrong number AU in which phone sex is the answer and the question is irrelevant.

the Steve Rogers problem: Bucky doesn’t consider his Steve Rogers problem as a problem so much as the solution he hadn’t realized he was hoping for to help him through the transition from the Bucky Barnes he’d been before his accident to the new, shiny version of himself.No, the problem isn’t with Captain America and The Howling Commandos fandom.The problem is the amount of porn Bucky managed to write and draw about Captain America before finding out that he’s less than one degree of separation away from Steve Rogers. ‘Less than’ as in he’s sitting across the table from him.

Prince Charming: Bucky Barnes leads quite the charmed life. He has a thriving tattoo shop, a son he adores, the world’s best dogs, and a great group of friends — almost all of whom are in relationships. And maybe he’d been the one nudging them towards each other, but there’s nothing wrong with a little match-making. The world could use more romance.As for him personally, well, he doesn’t need anyone for the long haul. Not when every girl he meets is someone who he thinks would be perfect for someone else.But then Steve Rogers comes into his shop looking for some ink, and maybe that’s the problem right there. Maybe what he’s looking for in a relationship isn’t a girl at all.

Heaven and That Other Thing: Bucky Barnes is the owner of a cat sanctuary in Brooklyn, an ordinary guy by the Avengers’ low standards, and a growing problem for America’s favourite captain. Steve Rogers is publicly straight, endlessly bored, and has a habit of not fully thinking through his decisions when Bucky is around.

Keep Your Enemies Close: Pierce was an intelligent man. If the Asset was going to start remembering Rogers, it was best to give him an assignment other than the simple, point and shoot. The Asset’s Mission: Pretend he was James “Bucky” Barnes, best friend to Steve Rogers. He was to evaluate Rogers and see if Rogers could be used by HYDRA…or be put down if the Asset thought otherwise.The Asset now has to pretend to be Bucky Barnes, unknowing that he is in fact the man that Steve has been searching for all along. Pierce instructed the Asset to gain trust, observe, and report. How far is the Asset supposed to go to avoid his cover being blown? He guesses he’s just going to have to find out…

Of Broken Dreams and Mended Hearts: When the House of Barnes is left in massive debt after the death of George Barnes, their oldest son and heir, Bucky, is forced to sacrifice his own hopes and dreams by entering an arranged married to Steve Rogers. Steve seems kind enough, has a prominent job in the government, and was even voted Society’s Best Catch. But the House Rogers is significantly higher in status than Bucky’s family, which means Bucky is marrying up in Society, and marrying up doesn’t only come with rewards, it also comes with certain…expectations and losses–some of which Bucky might be willing to do anything to avoid. And those opportunities might come his way.Unless, of course, he actually starts falling in love with his new husband…

A Myriad of Misdecisions: “My parents thought I was working for an insurance company in New York when really I was joining the CIA so I just sort of never mentioned when I met you on an assassination-gone-wrong and now we’ve been married for five years and they still don’t know you exist, this has gotten wildly out of hand and you won’t stop laughing about it”

Catfish: Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn’t expect is a guy using Steve Rogers’ pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers’ pictures on a dating site?Not like it’s really him, right?

Give ‘Em Hope: Dr. Steve Rogers likes to think that if his patients have hope- their chances of survival will increase. Bucky Barnes has a 20% chance of survival and a desperate yearning to experience life. Against Steve’s better judgment, he develops a relationship with his patient. It’s illegal. It’s wrong. But it’s giving Bucky the hope to keep going, so Steve’s going to keep giving it, because he wants Bucky to survive.He needs him to.

A Love I Never Had: Detective Steve Rogers is not a cop if he’s dead. A Modern Frankenstein AU; or, the Modern Prometheus

After Hours: Steve wishes Bucky wouldn’t look at him the way he does – a deliberate gaze, subtly digging his top teeth into that pouty bottom lip; following his every move like a lion watches a gazelle. It’s been going on for months, perhaps longer… Steve talks, and Bucky listens. Well, that’s the point – Bucky’s supposed to be listening. Steve’s just doing his job, after all… No harm in that.The problem is that it’s no innocent gesture, the way Bucky will have the top of his pen tracing the outline of his mouth… It’s also not innocent at all when Steve turns to look out at the sea of heads while he’s speaking and catches the quickest glimpse of the brunet sneaking a peek at his ass. And Bucky doesn’t even pretend to be bashful about it. He just meets Steve’s eyes and smirks – just the tiniest hint of a thing.

The Match Game: Steve meets and promptly falls for Bucky Barnes, new resident in his apartment building. The one who makes him feel like he only wants to be with one person, forever. He just doesn’t know how to make that happen. Lucky for him, he has friends who… tease him mercilessly. And then help. A lot. Steve gets a lot of opportunities to get to know his new neighbor and thinks everything is going great, until Bucky reveals to him his own long-term relationship ended badly, and he doesn’t want another…but he might be up for a friends-with-benefits deal.

G.I. Joes and 2AM Diners: They look nothing like what they used to. Time and life have completely changed them. But as they sit there in silence, eating two halves of one cupcake, letting Brooklyn remind there where they came from, and enjoying a sky full of stars… They are those same little boys, somewhere deep down. For just a second, you’d be able to see them again.And Bucky thinks to himself that maybe it’s little moments like these – fleeting as they may be – that remind him why life is still worth living.

Screaming Words (Left Unspoken): Living as a fugitive is hard. Living as a man who has to wake the love of his life from cryo is harder. Why? The codes in Bucky’s brain don’t have a fix yet, but Steve has worse news to deliver. Bucky’s dying slowly from self-destruct protocols inside him. Now, it’s a race against time to save Bucky once and for all.And maybe finally tell Bucky that Steve’s been in love with him since he was a sixteen-year-old kid in Brooklyn. Oh and not get extradited by the UN from Wakanda. That’d also be great.

Winter Gorgon: For as long as Steve could remember, all he ever wanted to do was what was right. So when he hears about his father’s old regiment being held as POW’s by the Nazis, he’s determined to put what Doctor Erskine gave him to good use and goes AWOL to rescue them.But the 107th isn’t all he finds there. Deep in the labs is a very unusual prisoner; one with snakes in his hair and a mask nailed to his face. Despite the man’s monstrous visage, Steve can’t in good conscience leave him to the enemy. That one act of mercy will change his life, the course of the war, and even the future of the world.

That Would Be Enough: Bucky Barnes, a Columbia University graduate with a Masters Degree in Education, is in his fourth year of teaching AP US History at Shield Academy, a private school in the very heart of the Connecticut valley in the bucolic town of Barkstead. He also helps run the Russian Club with his colleague and best friend, Natasha Romanov. He’s got amazing friends, three nephews he adores, and a beautiful little apartment. The only thing Bucky would change about his life? His luck in love. It’s been two years since Bucky ended an emotionally abusive relationship and he’s just now starting to feel that his heart has healed enough to try dating again. Then, a new Art History and English teacher arrives with tattoos he doesn’t like talking about, a body like a Greek god, and some secrets of his own, and Bucky knows he’s done for. Cue pining, sass, and a ton of Hamilton references.

Heat of the Night: Steve is a cop. Bucky is the kept boyfriend of the super rich bad guy. Bucky doesn’t really have any information because his sole job is to look good when they go out. But he gets Steve’s card and he calls him and Steve meets him for lunch and coffee and dinner and Steve knows this could be a bad thing. He knows Bucky could be a trap. But the way he talks, how he smiles at Steve, laughs like it’s a sound he’s not used to making…Steve thinks he could be worth it. Steve thinks he could be worth everything

The North Star: “You got plans to retire, Cap? Find a nice little beach in the Indies and a good supply of rum? Couple of pretty girls in grass skirts to dance for you.”.“Sam,” Steve mumbles, covering his face with his hand.“I’m sorry, a couple of pretty boys?” Sam grins wickedly.“Sam!” Steve looks scandalised, which gets him nothing but laughter from his Quartermaster. “You’re fired. Go throw yourself overboard this instant.”

Lemon Meringue Lies: Being a server at a high-end restaurant is working out well for Steve. All he has to do now is convince Bucky he’s good enough to work as chef in the same restaurant. Meanwhile, Bucky has his own issues to deal with. Namely: trying his damndest to dig them out of poverty, make sure Steve’s health is on the up and up, and not acknowledging his very longstanding desire for his best friend that is slowly eating him up inside.

Steve Rogers. Cheerfully Slutty: Steve Rogers. Cheerfully Slutty. But not going to take your shit about it. Bucky Barnes. Voted most likely to fall in love first.

Sorry, Not Sorry: All Steve Rogers ever wanted was to do what’s right. So when he drops in to volunteer at the Brooklyn VA Outpatient Center, he’s surprised to learn some veterans actually resent Captain America and everything he represents. One veteran in particular is determined to make sure Steve understands just how much he dislikes him.

Lucky Seven: Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he’ll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can’t stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That’s how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man’s silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn’t exactly who he seems…

Above the Rain and Roses: But tonight, Steve is visiting The Armory. An exclusive club where unattached Doms can go and enjoy themselves with a good sub for the night. Not exactly the place Steve expects to find his one true love.Then again, fate might have other plans, and one sub might get in way over his head making assumptions about this Dom.

A Marriage of Ice and Fire: Steve Rogers hates James Barnes. The feeling’s mutual; their families have been at war for longer than they’ve been alive. But King Odin has had enough. He orders the two of them wed to end the fighting.It’s not enough that they have to look at each other’s faces without spitting; the King has declared the year’s tournament in their honor. They’ll have to lead the events together. They’ll be wed in front of everyone.

The Commander’s Omega: Steve Rogers is struck by a persistent headache as the dawn rises over DC.So are—simultaneously—Natasha Romanov in the Muscovite night, James Barnes in the dull grey of a Berlin afternoon, Tony Stark stumbling out of his Afghan cave, Bruce Banner in the crushing heat of the Nevada desert, Clint Barton squinting up at the Vegas lights, Loki Laufeyson under the Scandinavian sun, and Prince T'Challa amidst the West African rainforest.Surely it’s nothing but an odd coincidence.

Oh Can’t You See, You Belong To Me: Bucky Barnes has recently moved to New York and things are looking up. He’s got a great new job working for Tony Stark, he has a nice apartment, and his boyfriend Peter is fun. He just needs some friends. Unfortunately Steve Rogers doesn’t seem to want to be just friends.

Echoes In Our Minds: Steve Rogers is struck by a persistent headache as the dawn rises over DC.So are—simultaneously—Natasha Romanov in the Muscovite night, James Barnes in the dull grey of a Berlin afternoon, Tony Stark stumbling out of his Afghan cave, Bruce Banner in the crushing heat of the Nevada desert, Clint Barton squinting up at the Vegas lights, Loki Laufeyson under the Scandinavian sun, and Prince T'Challa amidst the West African rainforest.Surely it’s nothing but an odd coincidence.

Leg Day: The one where Sam is Bucky’s long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.

Give a Little, Take a Little: Bucky’s nearly thirty and has never been spanked. For most people, this wouldn’t be a pressing concern. Bucky is not most people.

Trained on You: Bucky Barnes is disabled veteran who’s trying to learn how to live his life now without his left arm. His best friend Natasha pushes him to build up the strength and confidence he’d lost along with his limb at the Rally Health and Wellness Center with the help of top notch trainer/physical therapist Sam Wilson.Bucky knew it’d be hard work. What he didn’t realize was just how difficult it’d be to concentrate on his own rehabilitation at the innocuous, easygoing gym. But after he first lays eyes on new trainer and walking wet dream Steve Rogers, it’s all he can do not to fall face first on the treadmill.Working out had never gotten Bucky so worked up before. Go hard or go home? Yeah, he’s definitely going home hard.

Where There’s Smoke: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve’s friends think they know what’s best for him…start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they’re crazy…or possibly right. But events from James’s recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Under the Bridges of Fame: For better or for worse (usually worse), Steve Rogers has been the most famous guy in the room for a while. And though newsreels have given way to YouTube, people’s reactions haven’t changed much in seventy-some years. Steve’s become an expert at keeping his head down and getting on with his life.A head-on collision on a busy street sends books flying and sweeps Steve off his feet. The point of impact has a name: James. A charming mess of long hair, thick glasses, and a crooked, not-quite-smile. If he recognizes Steve, he chooses not to comment, placing him firmly in Steve’s good graces. As far as Steve can tell, they might be Bogie and Bacall all over again, save for the group of idiots with selfie sticks who surround them. But for once, the request isn’t for Steve.Which begs the question: if James is James, then who the hell is Bucky?

Keep Making Trouble ‘Till You Find What You Love: “No no no, hear me out,” Bucky says. “You wanna get back at them, right? Imagine the following: We date, fall madly in love, then have the most horrendous breakup in history and make them deal with that. They’ll feel terrible because they set us up, and we get to eat free ice cream and see their faces when we eventually tell them we pulled one over them,” Bucky finishes with a smug grin. “That’s a terrible plan,” Steve says.

Trust Enough: So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself. Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired. Well fuck.

Took my love, took it down: The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions.

These underdog hearts: It starts in October: the sun is shining, the leaves are falling, and Steve Rogers is Captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Push It Real Good: The way Steve had to steel himself to ask the question made Bucky a little wary. “Will you be my partner for a Lamaze class?“For a few long moments, Bucky just blinked at him, not knowing which question to ask first. Finally he went with the biggest question on his mind. “What?”

I just met you (and this is crazy): After Steve gets outed by a grainy cell phone picture, it takes the media less than 24 hours to discover Captain America’s secret relationship with James Barnes: classical musician, teen heartthrob, and son of a former president.The only problem? Steve has never met James Barnes in his life.

We Never Had a Choice (But I Choose You): When Bucky Barnes is abducted by political activists, the circumstances are simple enough. Desperation breeds all sorts of terrible decisions, after all, and Bucky’s captor is clearly woefully out of his depth. Maybe, just maybe, he can talk his way to freedom, but the more Bucky learns about the circumstances of his capture, the more complicated things seem to get. On the run and forced to trust the man who abducted him, Bucky comes to realize that kidnapping is the least of his worries.

Someone To Watch Over Me: One cold, winter’s night, Steve Rogers, retired Special Forces operative, finds an unconscious young man in the woods surrounding his property. In the morning, the stranger wakes up and Steve is left with plenty of questions about the beautiful young man with guileless eyes and a sheepish smile, who speaks with self-deprecating humor as though there isn’t a bruise on his face and restraint marks on his wrist.

A Hatemance For The Ages: This is what happens when you find your soulmate… and instead of birds singing and roses blooming, you discover they’re an insufferable jerk. But an insufferable jerk that you low-key really want to bang, if nothing else because MAYBE THEN THEY WOULD SHUT UP.

Home Is Wherever I’m With You: This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he’s hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he’s ever seen in his life living right next door.

Sugar Sweet: College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve’s a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference… But that doesn’t stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree. AKA a Sugar Daddy AU that no one was asking for.

Parallels: At the end of “Captain America: Winter Soldier,” Steve fell from the helicarrier into the water. He wakes up, however, in an alternate universe where he and Bucky are dating.

Parallels 2: Bucky wakes up from cryo in a parallel universe - in which he works at a coffeeshop and Steve is his favorite customer.

… and I know the ask clearly asked for E rated fics, but those are some PG-13 ones with some solid plot and development, or at least for me, that I think worth mentioning:

It’s No Coincidence: The kids immediately scream, “Trick-or-Treat” before they see who opens the door.The strange resident looks between the two kids, then at the adults, and his eyes widen in horror.“It’s October already? “Okay, Bucky thinks.This guy is probably high.

A Working Romance: Eddie just wants to make a good documentary about good, normal people. Tony Stark just wants to manage his branch and make his dad proud. Bucky Barnes just wants to sell paper without pining over the receptionist. Steve Rogers just wants to draw superheroes and marry Peggy Carter. Sam Wilson just wants Bucky and Steve to get their act together.AKA The Office AU no one asked for.

Leave Me On The Mountain: Bucky is certain that he’s about to die, cold and lost in this mountain forest. But just as he thinks that the wolves have him, someone finds him and takes him in.

Thawing: Heroin. It’s a helluva drug.

The Necrofloranomicon: Bucky didn’t want much. Just to keep his head down, to sell his scavenged flowers in peace, and to stay off Shield’s radar. His life would have been a lot easier if his flowers weren’t dead and if being a necromancer wasn’t illegal, but easy or not, he was getting by. Steve didn’t want much, either. He was happy working for Shield, he had good friends, and overall his life was going just about the way he wanted it. Problem was, being happy with your life was generally an invitation for fate to throw a spanner in the works—and in Steve’s specific case, it was going to be a spanner named Bucky.(A love story about flowers, trust, and magic and the choices we make about doing what’s right.)

… aaaand that’s it folks! Sorry for the long post, and again, if anyone has a fic or seven to rec, please write it in the notes for us all to enjoy!

#stucky #stucky fic rec #stucky fic #stucky au #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #answered

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 5 years ago

Text

Our Work Never Ends

I originally called this Wayward Sisters, this just popped in my head. This is a rough that I’m allowing you to see. I will be editing it from time to time.

Just let me know what ya’ll think. Please.

[Couldn’t find the Empty version of Lucifer]

Summary: Two girls come together for a common cause. Find Dean.

Pairing: None

Set: Well after Season 15 (Assuming Sam and Dean die in the finale (which they better not, bitch I’ll riot…no jk, I’ll die from the heartbreak alone.)) a couple of years or so after.

Mobile Masterlist

A/N: Cassie Robinson x Dean (Season 1); Sarah Blake x Sam (Season 1) (Died in Season 8, has a daughter), just something.

Ever wondered, what happens to a man when he hears his wife died of natural causes, but when the information was being told to him, it didn’t seem natural. Not to him. After Crowley killed Sarah with a hex bag, suffocating her to death. Sam wanted to break the news to her husband Ian, with their daughter, who was turning 6 at the time that their mother was dead. Sam couldn’t bring himself to tell Ian a snot nosed lie. But he couldn’t tell the truth either.

Ian turned into a hunter, shortly after the news of Sarah. He wanted revenge. Avenge his wife’s death. But, having little to no knowledge under his belt. A werewolf was all it took to end his, short, hunting days. Beth was 13 when her father died.

Growing up in the south with a half black and half white mother can lead to bullying. But not for Kaylee. She had her dad’s blood in her veins and Cassie knew it.

Yet another call from the school about a fight she was yet again involved in, proved to her she was Dean’s daughter. Sure she did the DNA testing, months after he left to go hunting with Sam after saving her family from a racist ghost truck, she had something of his. A stray hair was all it took to confirm she was Dean’s daughter.

She had to tell her about her dad. She always asked when she was a kid about her daddy. So she decided to tell her about her dad. Dean Winchester. A hunter, who hunts monsters. She was 14 when she learned this.

Three years later…

The girls are not of age yet. But armed with pictures, one of her dad, and one of her mom. All it took was a topic about monsters and the supernatural to bring the two girls together.

Kaylee, now 17 years old, she’s on her way to turning 18, rents a room out for them. To chat in a more controlled environment.

“So, you’re looking for your dad?” Beth asked.

“Yeah. My dad,” she began. And shrugged. “My mom says he hunts monsters. Supernatural monsters, ghosts, demons that whole rep.” she said.

“My dad is looking for—well was looking for, a man by the name Sam Winchester. He told my dad about my mom’s death. He might help me about my dad’s.” she explained.

“Huh, my dad’s name is Dean Winchester. Maybe we’ll both get what we want if we stick together.” Kaylee suggests.

“Yeah. I agree.” Beth says.

The girls got up bright an early the next day, checked out and left. Kaylee having to hotwire and steal a car. A parked, police car, a 2019 Dodge Charger, solid black with police lights on top.

“We are so going to jail.” Beth groaned.

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing kid.” Kaylee said as she quietly pulled out of the parking lot unnoticed.

Pulling into an abandoned garage several miles away.

Thought it may look abandoned, but Kaylee is familiar with the area. Her ex-boyfriend dabbled in cars. Taught her how to fix them up, hotwire, steal even turn a cop car into a nonpolice car. This also happened to be her ex-boyfriends garage.

She managed, with the tools he had lying around, to get under the hood and gank the gps tracker attached to the engine. She even managed to unhook the dashcam and, ditched the plates, lights and siren. Destroying the important stuff. Like the trackers and cameras so no one would find them, hack into it and manage to get any kind of information from the trackers and cameras.

It was starting to get late in the day, night was soon approaching.

“We’re staying here for the night. I need to work on the car more.” Kaylee says.

“Where are we gonna sleep?” Beth asks.

“Over there, the mechanic always has a place to crash while working.” She says, pointing to a spare room in the garage.

Beth finds a small bed, all made up with some covers, dusty and old. She shook the sheets and blankets out and remade the bed. And got ready to go to sleep while Kaylee striped the paint and painted the car black and trimmed with chrome. Making it look spick and span, and brand spanking new by morning. No sign it was ever a police car.

The next morning, Kaylee managed to get done with the car in time. Beth got up, made the bed and got ready to go when Kaylee stops her.

“Do you have a license?” Kaylee asked tiredly.

“Yeah, why?” Beth asked.

“You’re driving.” Kaylee tossed her the keys.

“We broke how many laws in one day? And you ask me if I have a driver’s license.” Beth says with a bitchface to boot.

“Shut up.” Kaylee says, getting in the passenger seat.

“You’ll be fine, I put different plates on the car, got new tags. The car is now ours.” Kaylee says, getting settled in.

“And how’d you manage that?” Beth asks as she pulls out.

“Breaking the law.” Kaylee says. Pulling her beanie over her eyes, and falling asleep.

Weeks have passed, driving from town to town, asking people if they’ve seen the man Kaylee is looking for, or anything about him.

“Kaylee, we’re here.” Beth said pulling up to a house in Sioux Falls.

After a stop in Minnesota Sheriff Donna helped out a lot.

“I swear if this is another one of my dad’s friends I’m offing myself.” Kaylee groans.

“So what if Donna didn’t know Dean had a kid, I thought it was funny.” Beth said with a laugh.

Kayla mocking a laugh with Beth. Clearly not amused.

They knock on the door.

“Yes.” A voice answers from inside.

It was summer, this house was like one of many having two doors, the main door and a screen door. And just like any house after the long winter months, and having a day where it’s beautiful outside, the screen door is open letting in the fresh air.

“Hi, are you Jody Mills?” Kaylee asked.

A middle-aged woman with pixie short hair appeared, coming to the door but not opening it.

“Depends on who’s asking?” She answers.

“Ma’am, my name is Kaylee Robinson, my mom knew a Mr. Dean Winchester, I’m looking for him.” Kaylee said.

“And how well did your mom know Dean?” She asked.

“So you are Jody?” Beth goes.

“No shit.” Kaylee groans at Beth.

Kaylee sighs. “He’s my dad.” She says.

Jody tried to hide the shock that filled her face, she too didn’t know Dean had a kid.

“He saw my mom again around January 2006, I was born September 26, 2006. And this girl, Beth, had a run in with the supernatural. We just want to find Dean and this, Sam character. Maybe they can help us.” Kaylee says.

“Help you with what?” Jody asks seriously.

“I wanna know who killed my dad and why.” Beth says.

“And my mom, died in a car accident…but it didn’t seem like an accident. It looked an awful lot like a case my dad solved when he was with my mom last.” Kaylee explained.

“Come in, you should know about this.” Jody says.

After a good long talk of the boys’ adventures…

“God?” Kaylee goes.

Jody nods. After telling them about the Winchester’s, demons, angels, and Jack and Cas and their bought with God Chuck.

“They died, protecting this new god?” Beth asked.

“Yeah, they couldn’t get away and well the power of Jack and Chuck overwhelmed them. Killing them instantly. They felt no pain.” Jody explained.

“So my dad’s dead too.” Kaylee goes, standing up.

“I’m sorry kid, I really am. Look, I wish there was a way.” Jody starts.

“What if there is?” Kaylee says.

“What?” Jody asks.

Beth remaining silent.

“You said before, they died and came back many times. What if, there is a way to get them back?” Kaylee asks.

“Sweetheart, they wouldn’t want that.” Jody says.

“How would you know?” Kaylee snaps.

“Lebanon, that’s where their base is right, I’m heading there.” Kaylee says, leaving.

“But, Kaylee, you and I know nothing about bringing the dead back to life.” Beth says after her.

“Dad and Sam figured it out, right?” she asked. “Well, I’m a Winchester too. Believe it or not. I’m sure I will figure out how to bring my dad and uncle back.” Kaylee says getting in the driver seat.

Jody couldn’t get out fast enough. By the time she gets to her truck they're gone. All she could do was to put out an APB on the car. As the days pass, no one sees the car or the girls.

A few days later…

They pull up a trail, seeing a tall building looming over head.

“Apparently hunters here knew Dean and Sam. That’s a good thing, right?” Beth asked.

“Well yeah, we would have been looking all over for this place…” Kaylee says. “Not that we would be looking to long. Lebanon isn’t very big.” Kaylee adds.

The door down remained unlock. As they walked in through the second door, a dark and musty room awaited them. They pulled out their cellphones, activating the flashlight.

“Whoa.” Beth goes.

“Son of a bitch.” Kaylee says.

“This place is huge, and your dad lived here?” Beth says.

“Apparently.” Kaylee says.

Kaylee looks around and sees the main power switches. She heads over and throws both of them, one at a time.

“Son of a bitch.” Beth says. Her gaze, off into the far distance.

Kaylee follows Beth’s gaze, seeing a huge library.

“Hey girl, I think we found the batcave.” Kaylee says.

“Well, let’s get to looking on how to bring your dad back.” Beth says.

The next morning…

“Kaylee, this place has everything, spell books, lore books, hell even a Manuel on being a hunter.” Beth says holding up the books.

“Alright, let’s not geek out okay.” Kaylee says.

“Geek out, really?” Beth goes.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, it all sounds awesome. But, I just wish it was an easy, ‘hey this book is on resurrecting the dead’.” Kaylee says, playing with the swords behind Beth.

“Yeah, well, we don’t have that. We have to do it the old fashioned way.” Beth says.

After a couple of hours of reading and scrounging, Beth found a lead.

“There’s a spell. All I need is blood, blood related to your dad and uncle. And since you have some Winchester blood in you, and Dean and Sam, you are related to them so, I need your blood.” Beth says, holding up the spell.

“But we got everything else. Sage, and something that belonged to them…” Kaylee says skeptically. As she looked at the pile Beth had, ingredients for the spell. Two flannels, a stick of sage and a bowl.

“Your dad’s stuff was still here so I figured his flannel would do.” Beth said.

“Does it have to be the whole damn shirt, just, here.” Kaylee says.

Grabbing a pair of scissors she cuts a piece from the collar.

“Look, there’s even hair. And we’ll do it on Sam’s too.” Kaylee says, doing the same to his flannel.

“But problem.” Beth says.

“What?” Kaylee groans.

“Where are they buried?” Beth asks.

Oh.

Kaylee looked all over the bunker, for a clue to where they would be buried. And found nothing. But one clue that seemed odd.

“Jack, the same Jack told us is the new God. He used to live here.” Kaylee says, entering the library holding a journal.

“Yeah, same for Cas too. Did you know celestial beings don’t sleep?” Beth says.

“Kind of figured. But this journal, has my dad’s name in it. And another Winchester, John. Sounds like he was my dad’s dad.” Kaylee says.

“Yeah, that’s called a grandpa.” Beth says jokingly.

“What’s with the snarky comments?” Kaylee snapped.

“I’m bored.” Beth says.

“I wonder if praying works.” Kaylee says.

“Try it out.” Beth says.

“Okay.” Kaylee goes, sitting down, folding her hands and begins to pray.

“Alright, I have questions that need answering. And only this Cas and Jack can answer them. Can someone up there send their feathery ass’s down here, please and thank you.” She says.

“Really? That’s a prayer?” Beth says sassily.

“I don’t go to church.” Kaylee says.

“Hello” a voice is heard behind them. They turn to see a scrawny kid.

“And you are?” Kaylee asks.

“Jack.” He says.

“Jack, the same Jack that worked with my dad?” Kaylee asked.

“I am. And, before you ask, I have made a promise not to bring them back. Under any and all circumstance.” He says quickly.

“But Jack it’s important. We need answers.” Kaylee says.

“I’m sorry, but as far as I’m concerned, this place has all the answers you need. I can’t help you.” He says and vanishes.

“Well, son of a bitch.” Kaylee growls.

“Now what?” Beth asked.

“We’ll find a way; we don’t need no god to help us.” Kaylee says.

Remember Nick, Lucifer’s first original vessel? We were never shown what happened to his body, or his spirit since God’s destruction. And his many attempts to bring Lucifer back from the Empty. Let’s just say being a vengeful spirit has it’s perks. Going between worlds, even dipping into the Empty and waking up Lucifer.

The Empty Lucifer, and the spirit of Nick, resurrected Nick’s corpse.

After slipping past Death, getting Empty Lucifer out of the Empty and into the real world Nick and Lucifer were back in action. And more powerful than ever.

Winchester. He wanted the Winchester’s dead.

As the girls slept in the bunker, Kaylee couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts racing. Until she heard her friend screaming.

“Beth!” Kaylee shouted. Following Beth’s screams.

She found Beth, standing at a crossroads of hallways. She follows Beth’s gaze to find a man standing at the end of the hall. A dark gaze in his eye. Flashing red, a deep red.

Her mind screaming somehow. Lucifer.

Lucifer?

“Lucifer.” Kaylee whispers.

“What? How’d you know?” Beth asks.

“I don’t know, I just do somehow.” Kaylee says.

Lucifer vanished in a puff of black smoke.

And it happened again behind them. Turning to see Lucifer looming over them, he throws the girls down the hall. Causing them to roll to a stop.

“Something’s off about him.” Kaylee says. Getting up.

“How so? Wait? How would know something is off about him?” Beth shouts further down the hall from Kaylee. “You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t know okay!” Kaylee admits.

The girls notice their breath is showing.

“Didn’t your dad write something about ghosts showing themselves, the temperature would drop?” Beth asked.

A thought came to Kaylee, and she acted on it.

“Dad, is that you?” Kaylee asks.

A figure appeared behind her.

“Sam!” He shouted. Another figure showed up, behind Lucifer.

Lucifer stopped. Seeing Sam and Dean appearing before him.

“Dean!” Sam shouted.

Dean? Dean! Dad! Kaylee thought.

Sam used his ghost mojo to hold Lucifer in place.

“Kay, listen to me.” Dean says. Kaylee turns towards him.

“There’s a book, it’s a banishing spell. Try it.” He says.

“But, dad he doesn’t feel celestial in any way. I don’t think he’s an angel.” She says.

“I think Dean’s ghostly influence or whatever is giving you this knowledge.” Beth suggests.

“There should be an angel blade in my room, run and get it.” Dean ordered.

Before she could, Lucifer sent her flying further down the hall. Dean vanishes for a minute, and appears by Kaylee’s side.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, at least I’m not hitting a wall or anything.” Kaylee answers. “An angel blade, what’s an angel blade?” Kaylee asked. Dean vanishes. Only to hear a metallic blade slide out of his room.

She hurries to it, sliding to a stop and grabbing it. And she high tails it towards Lucifer. Who launches her through a closed door, Kaylee grunts in pain at the force of it all.

“Sorry kids, but, gotta run.” Lucifer growls. Vanishing, this time for good, in a puff of black smoke.

“You’re right, not an angel.” Dean says.

“Can you come back now?!” Kaylee asks, stumbling out of the room Lucifer just threw her in. Angel Blade in hand. “Jack said he wasn’t gonna bring you back because of some promise. Beth and I know nothing about hunting, we need you guys.” Kaylee begs.

“That spell Beth dug up, it will work. Just head up to the grave site. It’s the top of this hill up here.” Dean says.

“We can’t follow you up their unless you bring something that ties us to this plane.” He adds.

“Beth, my laptop. I'm tied to my laptop.” Sam says.

Beth runs into Sam’s room and grabs his laptop. Giving her a nod.

“Mine, oddly enough, is not in here. And after all this time I don’t know if she’ll run.” Dean says.

“What?” Kaylee asks.

Dean shows her his car. The black, 1967 Chevy Impala.

“I loved this car more than anything. She was my baby.” Dean says.

“Okay, can I drive her up there?” She asks.

“If you can get her to start, yeah.” Dean says.

She heads into Dean’s room, finding his keys and is back in no time. The boys fizzle in and out of view, one minute they're not in the car, the next minute they’re in the back seat behind the girls.

She turns the key, sounds like the battery is dead. And judging by the way her dad's car is parked, she can get her Dodge down here and give the Impala a jumpstart.

And that’s what she does. She manages to drive it in the garage, parking it so she can get out in the Impala but also jumpstart the old muscle car.

And a jumpstart was all it needed. Beth turns off the Dodge and gets in the Impala and the pair drive up the hill to the grave site they speak of.

It was almost dawn when they reached the hilltop. Finding three graves.

Beth heading over to said graves getting bowl ready, Sam helping her as best as he could.

Kaylee and Dean having a, ghostly, father, daughter bonding moment.

“Cas. Who was Cas?” Kaylee asked.

“He was, an angel friend of ours. A brother in arms. He died trying to save us but, obviously it wasn’t enough.” Dean says dryly.

“Did you ever loved my mom?” She asked.

“Of course I did, that’s why I left.” Dean answers. Almost offended by the question. “You know what I do--, what I did. I didn’t want that for your mom. Or you.” He said.

“Well, she died in a car accident, but in my mom’s old journal entry, how people were dying the same way she did.” Kaylee explained.

“I thought, having it cross hollowed grounds it would destroy it Sam.” Dean says, glaring at Sam.

“Guess I was wrong.” Sam says.

“When did this happen?” Dean asked.

“It was…around, early October 2019.” She answers.

“That’s when God opened up hell, probably even brought him back for kicks.” Dean said.

“And this is Chuck, not Jack, right?” She asks.

“Right, Chuck was just, all out bad.” Dean answers.

“Okay, Kaylee, I’m ready for the blood.” Beth says.

She turns back to Dean. Dean gives her a nod and a soft, sad smile.

Kaylee heads over to Beth’s spell making bowl and cuts her hand, squeezing a good amount of blood. And Beth saying the incantation.

‘Bout a short time later two hands, one from either grave shot up. The girls scream at the scene, backing off some.

First popped out Sam, gasping for breath. Shortly after, Dean popped out doing the same. Both looking like nothing happened, other than being buried. No injuries, no blood, just unharmed and fine.

“Well,” Dean says with a huff.

“Looks like we got more work to do.” Sam says, panting.

as of 4/22/2020, it’s been edited a bit. editing will continue...

REMEMBER, FEEDBACK HELPS. Either, Reblog, comment, Ask, anything to give feedback on this. It is in it’s rough stages, it is gutsy of me to share it like that.

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astronomyparkers · 6 years ago

Text

Silence {VIII}

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Vigilante!Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: wow an update in less than three months??? astounding!! hopefully this chapter brings you guys some answers!!! were your theories correct?? do you have more?? let me know!! and please note I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!!!! THE REASON WHY IS IN MY FAQ!!!! ANY/ALL MESSAGES REGARDING THIS WILL BE DELETED!!!!

{masterlist}

You wanted to scream when you saw the face of the Silence looking at you through the window. Yesterday, the sight of the familiar black mask would have comforted you, but after the strange personality change in Tom, and finding the photo of Tom and William, everything was different. You weren’t sure who was who anymore. Was William even dead? All you knew for sure was that someone wasn’t who they said they were, and it was highly possible that the Silence was that someone.

The Silence knocked again, more frantic this time, and the sound of it jerked you from your frozen state. You ran to your bag, grabbing the gun of the first assassin. Holding it in your hand felt wrong and unnatural, like you had someone else’s hand grafted onto yours. Your hand would never point a gun at someone. But all the same, you needed protection from whoever was really under that mask.

“Y/N!” The Silence hissed, squinting at you through the glass. “Jesus, open the fucking window!”

His voice made you hesitate. It sounded so familiar, so comforting…you faltered for a moment before taking a deep breath and walking towards the window, opening it quickly. You then jumped back, gun up again as the Silence pulled himself into the room.

His eyes flickered around the bedroom, something sad and dark that you couldn’t read passing through them. It made you falter again, and you had to remind yourself to stay stern.

“How did you know I was here?” You demanded, voice tight. “And—and why are there—why are you—are you Tom? The Tom I was just with? Or—what’s—”

The Silence—you couldn’t think of him as Tom—put a hand over your mouth, silencing you. “Sh. We need to go. Now.”

You shoved his hand off of you. “Stop telling me what to do! Just tell me the truth!”

“I will. I swear.” He said, glancing over his shoulder. “Just fucking come with me, please. We can’t be found up here.”

“Found by who? Tom?” You asked, cold dread washing over you. “So you’re…that wasn’t you, then? Who brought me here?”

The Silence hesitated, his eyes growing hard again. “Come on. I’ll explain everything back at the manor.”

“At—what?” You gasped. “The manor? But—”

“Grab your bag.” He said shortly, nodding at your bag still laying on the bed. “And for fuck’s sake, put that bloody thing away.”

You look down at the gun in your hands. You don’t like the thought of being caught off guard, but you really did hate holding it. You tuck it back in the bag, pulling the bag itself over your shoulder.

The Silence extended a hand to you. “Climb on my back.”

You stared at his hand, and then back at the door. You could refuse to go…but something told you that staying would be more dangerous. And you wanted answers.

You pulled your bag on your arm tighter and climbed onto the Silence’s back, gripping him tightly. He wrapped his hands under your legs to hoist you up before climbing out the window.

He kept you on his back as he climbed down the side of the house, and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. When you opened them again, the Silence was setting you down in front of his motorcycle.

“Get on.” He said in a low voice.

You did as he directed, climbing onto the back of the bike. He got on the front and you held onto him again. The warmth of his body was comforting, as much as you hated it.

You rode back to the manor in silence, the wind whipping through your hair the only thing you could hear. You just pressed your face into the leather jacket of the Silence, and wondered what kind of answers he would give you. If any of them would be satisfying.

When you reached the manor, the Silence drove into the garage, not even stopping to answer you once he parked. All he did was kick down the stand and walk to one of the storage units, pulling off his mask and throwing it at the wall. The crash echoed loudly, and you flinched at the sound.

“Silence—”

“That’s not my name.” He growled, his back still towards you. “It’s—fuck—”

“Then what is your name?” You asked, exasperated. “Someone is lying to me! Is it you?”

“Partially, yes.” He admitted, his voice still dark. “Yeah, I’ve been bloody lying. Had to lie, to protect you. I had to.”

“You had to.” You repeated flatly. “You had to? No. All you have to do is tell me the truth.”

“The truth…” He muttered. “Who even knows what the bloody truth is anymore?”

“You do, I’m sure.” You walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “So just…explain it to me. Please.”

He was silent for a moment before nodding, turning around to face you. “What do you know? Or…think you know?”

“I know…that there were two sets of Holland twins. That William was supposedly killed at sixteen.” You bit your lip, searching his face. The scar on his lip jumped out at you. “I thought I knew that…you were the Silence, and also who was visiting me at the MoMA. But I…the picture doesn’t add up…nothing is making sense to me.”

“What picture?” He asked sharply. “Is there a photo of me—?”

“There was one in…Tom’s room. Just now.” You explained. “And it was of…Tom and William. But—but no one had a scar.” You hesitated for a moment before touching his lip, just slightly. He moved back at the touch, as if he was worried that it would burn him, but he let you touch him anyways.

“And that was how you knew? How you realized?” He asked. “Because—”

“Because I realized you had a scar. And Tom—” You paused. “Whoever I was with…they didn’t.”

The Silence sighed heavily, like it pained them. “I really…I really thought you figured all of this out. When I first met you. When you said my name.”

“When I called you Tom.” You remembered, thinking back to all those weeks ago. “So…you’re…”

He sighed again, stepping back from you and busying himself with tools on his workshop bench. He had to keep busy, you realized, to discuss this.

“You know the story, right?” He said finally, his voice dark and deep. “The one the media knows. That—that William was killed in a mugging. Gang related. And his body—”

“—was never found.” You nodded. “They only found his W ring, and some blood. Yeah.”

“It was gang related, yes. But—but it wasn’t William’s blood they found.” The Silence fiddled with his fingerless gloves. “It was mine. William was never in that park that night.”

Your brow furrowed as you processed what he told you. “I…I don’t understand. How was it not William’s blood? Who…?”

“It was mine.” The Silence repeated simply. “William didn’t get mugged. None of this was an accident. This…it’s all connected to Corewell. My family is connected to Corewell. And I-I found out when I was sixteen. I was…horrified. My father…” He trailed off, looking at the wall. “My father was distant, sure, but still my father. I believed the best of him. And—and I stumbled upon it in his office one day, when I was searching for a book. And I discovered that my father’s entire company was rooted with lies and crime and blood and—” He stopped abruptly. “Needless to say, I was shocked. I confided in the only person I could trust.”

“William.” You said the name slowly. It sat heavy on your tongue. “I-I don’t understand—”

“I told William all of it. Everything I found about every illegal thing Father did.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes as he spoke, almost as if he was ashamed of what happened. “I explained everything I had found on Corewell. And William…he told me that he was horrified. And—and that we would go to the police together.” He snorted bitterly. “I was such a fool. It didn’t even occur to me that he was lying. That he already knew everything. He was more involved in Father’s business than I was.”

You could feel dread washing over your body. You had a sneaking suspicion that you knew where this story was going to lead. “William…”

“He was involved with it all. He had no intention of going to the police. And he didn’t want me to go and ruin everything, either.” The Silence—Tom?—finally looked up at you. “I found this out after, but apparently William was in a bit of trouble with Corewell. He tried to make deals that he wasn’t capable of, and lost them a lot of money. He knew people were going to come after him, and didn’t know how to deal with…” He snorted again, wiping his nose. “Well, I suppose I handed him the perfect solution. Two birds with one stone and all that.

“William asked me to meet him in Central Park one night, so we could go to the police. I didn’t question it. But when I was walking, someone started following me. And then another. And another.” He swallowed hard, clearing his throat. “They called me William. I ignored them. Until I got hit over the head with a bat.”

Your breath hitched, flinching at the thought of it. Tom can see how uncomfortable it made you.

“I won’t bore you with the details.” He said quietly. “They thought I was dead. Dumped me in some back alley dumpster, for the trash to pick up the next morning. That—that’s where Harrison found me.”

You looked up quickly. “Harrison?”

Tom nodded, a bit of a smile coming over his face. “Harrison. He was from the city, knew the streets well. He heard me after I regained consciousness. He found me and helped bring me back home to his apartment. His mum and sister were out. And I was trying to tell him who I was, to call the cops, to check on my brother. I assured him he’d get a reward.” Tom looked away again. “And we turned on the news, to see if anyone had seen anything. And I saw my own brother crying, telling the cameras that his brother William was missing. And the scroll beneath his face said ‘Tom Holland’.”

Your breathing stopped. “The W ring…?”

“I couldn’t find my T ring that morning. Thought I’d lost it at football practice or something.” He shook his head. “William must’ve taken it, and left his W ring at the park.”

“But the blood—”

“Identical twins have nearly identical DNA.” Tom shrugged. “And I suppose some money swapped hands somewhere along the line. I don’t know the finer details of it.”

“But—but you told me that you weren’t Tom.” You said weakly.

“I wasn’t, not anymore.” Tom raked a hand through his hair. “William stole my entire fucking identity. After that night, I…I wasn’t Tom anymore.”

“What happened after? With—with Harrison?”

“He told me he was a fighter. I convinced him to train me. I paid him, got this place…” Tom looked around the garage of the manor. “Harrison met Jacob three years ago. As things got more complicated…we needed a third. Jacob was perfect.”

“And William—William didn’t know you were alive?” You questioned.

“He didn’t.” Tom laughed without humour. “But he fooled you into thinking we were the same person, so I suppose he knows now. How much did you tell him?”

“I-I thought he was you!” You defended yourself, crossing your arms. “You can’t get mad at me for anything I said or—or did…”

“Anything you did.” Tom repeated, glancing at you. “So…you and I were…together. Somewhat.” He cleared his throat. “Did you and my brother…?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I…thought he was you.”

“Is that a yes?” Tom asked quickly.

Before you could answer, your phone rang from your pocket. You pulled it out and froze when you saw the caller ID.

“It’s T—William.” You said quietly.

Tom’s jaw tensed. “Answer it.”

You did as he said. “Hello?”

“Darling, where did you go?” William’s—it was so strange to think of him as someone you thought was dead—voice came through the phone. “Why aren’t you at my house? Why did you leave?”

“I—I wasn’t feeling well.” You said faintly. “I went home.”

“You went home?”

You nodded, glancing at Tom as you bit your lip. “Mhmm.”

“That’s strange, darling.” His voice was slick. “Because I’m at your home. And you’re not here. So I’ll ask again.” Cold ran through you as he spoke. “Where are you?”

Before you could respond, Tom grabbed the phone from you and hung up.

“Hey!” You said indignantly, trying to grab your phone back. “What do you—”

“I’m protecting you, is what I’m bloody doing.” Tom threw your phone on the ground, stomping on it hard enough that it cracked. “It’s a thankless job, apparently, but it needs to be done.”

“My phone—”

“—can’t be used to track you now.” Tom looked back up at you, his eyes unreadable once again. You could practically feel him closing himself off from you.

You opened your mouth and then closed it again, and Tom rolled his eyes in response.

“A thank you might be in order?” He cocked an eyebrow as he spoke, heading towards the stairs.

“Why are you being so rude?” You asked defiantly, crossing your arms. You didn’t follow him towards the stairs. “This whole thing is—is a huge shock to me, and—”

“But I didn’t think it would be a shock, now did I?” Tom turned back around, his face dark and stormy. “I thought you knew. I thought you could—could tell us apart, or something—”

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Your face lifted into an expression of surprise. “You’re mad that I couldn’t tell you and your evil twin apart?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I’m not mad, I’m just—I’m disappointed.”

“Wow, thanks, Mom.” You muttered, mimicking his eyeroll. “Sorry to disappoint you—”

“I just thought—never mind.” Tom’s face flushed, and he turned back around, walking up the stairs.

“Wait!” You called after him, following him up the stairs. You didn’t catch up to him until the top of the stairs, as you stepped into the upper levels of the house.

Tom turned around, exasperated. “What?”

“You just thought what?”

“It’s stupid.”

You sighed, pushing your annoyance to the back of your mind. “I’m sure it’s not stupid. What is it?”

Tom chewed his bottom lip, his eyes sizing you up. It was almost as if he didn’t trust you.

“Thomas.” You repeated his name, his real name. It made something shift in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I, um…” Tom rubbed a hand through his hair, letting it come to a rest at the back of his neck. His ears were tinged pink. “I really am disappointed, because I…” He cast his eyes down. “I liked that—that you could tell.”

“Tell…what?” You asked slowly.

“That…” Tom scratched the back of his neck. “That William and I were different. Or I thought you could, at least. I liked it. No one ever…everyone had trouble with it, even before.” He shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “I liked that you were able to do it. It made me feel like…you could see me. Really see me.”

You walked towards him, your heart softening at his words. Tom almost never let you see him like this. Vulnerable. As you cupped his cheek, you knew you wanted to savour every moment of it.

“I-I do see you.” You said quietly, your thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “More clearly than…ever before. Especially now that I…”

Tom chuckled bitterly, but leaned into your touch. “Now that you know all my baggage?”

“Everyone has baggage.” You kept your thumb moving over his cheekbone, as you could tell the touch soothed him. “Yours is just…a bit bigger than most. But it’s still okay.”

Tom’s voice was unsure when he answered. “Is it?” He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.

“You just can’t carry it on your own, that’s all.” You bit your lip too, looking up at Tom through your lashes. “You need help. That’s why you have Harrison…”

“Harrison…” Tom repeated, stepping closer to you. His hands found your hips.

“And Jacob…”

“Jacob…” He pushed your shirt up slightly, so his hot hands could rest on your bare skin.

“And…and me.” You finished, swallowing hard. Your foreheads were about to touch.

“And you.” Tom leaned in more, pressing his forehead to yours, his nose bumping yours. His ragged breathing matched your own.

You nodded softly, your eyelids fluttering shut. “Me.”

“That’s all I need.”

And when Tom pressed his lips to yours, you forgot about all your troubles. All at once.

{part IX}

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