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javier-pena · 4 years ago

Text

bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

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The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself – you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao, @chattychell, @darksber, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @magicrowiswritingstuff, @mothandpidgeon, @mbpokemonrulez, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos, @pescopadral, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #lmao i'm still a coward though and currently asleep #tw: flashing gif

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concealeddarkness13 · 2 years ago

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WHG 18 Clipped Wings Part 4

Content warning for mentions of death and blood. Tagging: @ratracechronicler (also thanks for Ernest!), @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @knmartinshouldbewriting (also thanks for Haf!), @drabbleitout, and @evethenovicewriter (also thanks for Evalyn, Serena, and Milo!)!

Ash mentioned that Ernest was a good person to approach. She wasn’t worried about him telling the Capitol about the plan, so I could approach him without worry. He was at the fire-starting station, and I walked over next to him and worked on starting my own fire. I wasn’t very good at it, but soon enough he had a nice fire going!

I kept my voice quiet as I spoke, so as to not startle him. He looked nervous. “You’re Ernest, right? I’m Eclipse. How is everything going?” That was a bad question, but I didn’t know how else to start.

“Oh. Hi.” He looked confused now. “It’s alright. I think I’m getting pretty good at this. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think? How you live so long and we just have lighters for this, and then all of a sudden, it’s gonna be like we’re cave people again.”

He certainly was getting good at this. My fire was pitiful compared to his. “Yeah, of course they give us all the fancy weapons to kill each other, but they won’t bother to give us a single lighter.”

He laughed but then looked sheepish. “Uh, sorry,” he muttered. “Well. Maybe they’ll have something like a flamethrower or bombs and we could cook…stuff with that. Okay, I haven’t really gotten to the step of actually figuring out how to hunt and eat animals. One thing at a time.” He stared at his fire and added a few sticks.

I nodded, a small smile pulling at my lips. “That would certainly be a better use for them.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck and hesitantly smothered the fire with a cloth. “I guess we have to know how to do this, too, in case we have to haul out unexpectedly.” He sighed and grabbed some more kindling and tried again. “Boy, it’s kind of hard to avoid talking about killing people when you’re being sent to a big competition where they expect you to kill people, huh? Sorry.”

He had nothing to apologize for. I shook my head. “Don’t be. It’s the Capitol’s fault that this is all happening.”

“Yeah.” He sounded unsure though.

I glanced over at him. “So, it makes sense to make allies to try to stay alive as lone as we can. Would you like to team up?”

He brightened. “Yeah, sure. That’s a good idea. I know I don’t look like much—well, I’m not much—but I’m tough, and it looks like I can get a fire going, at least.” He certainly already had another small fire going.

He had to be protected at all costs. I smiled. “I think you’re doing wonderfully. And there might not be a need to fight.”

Ernest relaxed a little. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“My district mate is actually planning an escape with as many tributes as possible.”

Ernest stared at me blankly for a bit and then looked around and lowered his voice, putting kindling on the fire to build it up. “Escape? Like getting away from the, y’know, more murdery tributes in a big group, or what?”

My voice was already quiet. “Like escaping the arena.”

He whispered under his breath. “Oh. Uh. Wow. That’s…you think that’s possible?”

I nodded. “If anyone can do it, Ash could.”

“Okay. Well.” He shifted a little, falling silent. “…It sounds good, if it’s doable. Sure beats dying. But, why? How come your partner’s taking other people, too?”

“She hates the Capitol, and she wats to defy them in any way she can. I hate the Capitol too.” Images flashed before my eyes of my district burning, of the screams of the dying, and of my parents screaming and dying in a pool of their own blood. I wanted to burn the Capitol to the ground. I clenched my fists.

“I get that. Yeah, they’re really bad.” He sounded cautious and looked down at my fists. Shit. I forced myself to relax and not show my anger.

I tried to even smile, but it didn’t work well. “So, we’re going to get as many people out as we can.”

“Cool. Sounds great. Like one of those stories my buddies and I used to read about when the Peacekeepers weren’t looking, y’know? Uh, what happens after that, then? Do we have to live in the wilderness forever, or if we escape, are we exempt and get to go home…? I kind of want to go home.” His voice caught. “I’ve got a dog I want to see again.”

Aw. Dogs were the best. “You should be able to go home.” If Ash’s plan worked and the Capitol was destroyed.

He nodded hesitantly. “Okay, then. I like the sound of this plan.”

Perfect. I smiled at him, and we finished up together, and we went our separate ways.

The rest of the day, I watched everyone else and figured out who I wanted to talk to tomorrow. Serena, Evalyn, and Milo seemed to know each other, and they were together all the time. And Haf seemed like a good person. I talked with Ash, and she agreed with me talking with them.

She went with me first to talk to Serena, Evalyn, and Milo. More like she kind of dragged me over there, and I knew what she was going to do and that she was going to act embarrassing, so I was already worried.

And sure enough, she grinned and waved. “Hi! I see we’re not the only married couple in the Games!” I already started blushing.

Evalyn smiled widely. “Cute.” I blushed harder.

Serena hit Evalyn playfully. “I’m sorry you had to be in the same position as us. Are you good fighters?”

Ash kept talking. I was too embarrassed. “We’re both better at the scheming and plans than fighting, but if there’s a gun in the arena, I’m a good shot.” Ash winked. “But I have a proposition for you three, if you’re interested.”

“I can appreciate a good schemer,” Evalyn said.

“And I can appreciate a good shot,” Milo added.

Serena sighed. “Depends on the proposition. We are down for anything that gets us out of this.”

Ash nodded. “Perfect! Because I have a plan for as many tributes as possible to escape from the arena.”

“That we can agree on.” Evalyn nodded. “We might have an idea to get one out of there to help more people escape from the outside. But we are more than happy to hear more ideas.”

Ash nodded. “I have someone on the outside. I can get you in contact with him, if you’d like. I’m planning on disabling trackers and hacking into the arena to cause a big spectacle that will allow the tributes to escape.” She still wasn’t mentioning that she would escape too. What was she planning? I frowned and looked over at her.

“A spy, fun,” Evalyn said. “If they can come pick me up after I die, I can help them.” The other two looked annoyed at her. “Milo will kill me during the game, but I will get revived, just as I can get picked up before no-one notices.”

“Fancy!” Ash said. “I’ll let him know to watch for you. And I’ll find you two in the arena.”

“We’ll try to look out for the sign when you try to…do your distraction.” Serena thought about something. “I guess we are now allies.”

Ash nodded and held her hand out to shake. “An honor to be allies. And it won’t be hard to notice the distraction. But I hope to find you before that!”

“Oh, Milo won’t be too hard to notice.” Evalyn laughed.

“I hope that you won’t be killed before the escape,” Serena said.

I smiled and nodded, and Ash grinned. “I hope so too! We’ll find you as soon as possible!”

We went back to our own tasks, and Ash looked over at me with a wink. “Hope I didn’t embarrass you too badly.”

I shook my head and looked over at her. “Why are you not saying anything about you escaping with us?”

She stiffened and forced a smile. “Of course I will, Love.”

I tilted my head. “Please be honest with me.”

Her smile slipped. “I have a plan, and it will become clear in due time.

In the afternoon, I found Haf by the shelter station, and I joined her, starting to build my own shelter. I glanced over at her. “How are you doing? It’s all a little overwhelming, honestly.”

She smiled. “It is a lot.”

Hers had been one of the interesting reapings. “I saw you volunteered. That was brave.”

She shrugged. “I just needed to get out of there.”

“Still, that’s brave.” I paused. How could I approach this? “And I have a proposition to ally, if you’d like.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Well, honestly, it would be an alliance to escape the arena. My district mate has a plan to escape.”

“Escape?” she whispered. “What – how?”

“I don’t know all the details.” Honestly, she hadn’t really told me the details of what she was planning, just the overall picture. “But she says she’ll be able to hack into the arena and cause a disruption to let us escape.”

Haf frowned, looking away like she might be thinking. “Yeah, that might work. How can I help?”

I smiled. This was going great! “Thank you. The best way to help would be to recruit more people. We want to get as many tributes out as possible.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But what else? I want to do more to help.”

I frowned. Well, Ash still hadn’t told me anything I could do to help besides recruiting, so… “Honestly, I’m not sure. Ash is still taking on so much on her own. She won’t even tell me what I can do to help. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Well, let her know I’m willing to do whatever she needs.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I will.” We finished up working and went our separate ways, and for the next day, Ash and I proceeded to dance around the topic of the plan, with her not telling me anymore details, especially about the end, while I tried to get more information, but she never budged. And soon enough, it was time for the interviews.

#tw blood #tw death #writeblr hunger games #writeblr #still no editing #my constant tag

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

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You’re Not a Monster

Dean x Reader

a/n: I’m putting an authors note here because I don’t know how to tag the reader. She’s a werewolf shapeshifter. She shifts into a wolf like in all of my A/B/O fictions I’ve written. Basically it’s Twilight shit that I write my werewolves. XD Don’t mind me.

Bingo Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Warnings: STRONG ANGST, Language, SPN level gore and blood, scary situations, Fluff end to the rescue.

Summary: Dean discovers something different with the reader and it changes their relationship. Is there anything worth saving after Dean learns the truth.

Word Count: 2,609

Square: Quote A (“How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?”) @supernatural-jackles. SPN Tell me a Story Bingo.

a/n#2: This is not part of the Finding Him storyline.

a/n #3: My dumb ass forgot to credit the creator of this gif, I space out and forget, I’m not dumb...but credit for the gif goes to @supernaturalfreewill

“Shit.” She muttered, as she morphed back into her human form to find a very furious looking Dean looking back at her.

They were on a wendigo hunt, when a wendigo almost had a upper hand on Dean, she had morphed into her white wolf form to get out of a tight situation with another wendigo.

Wendigos, though fearless of their prey. But when they are the prey, it’s a whole other ballgame. They began to back off of the hunters. But Dean fired off two flare guns to kill the two wendigos before they got away.

“Dean, I can explain.”

He grabs his colt, loaded with silver bullets. Aiming it at her.

“Dean.” She begged.

“We talked about everything.” He shouted. “Whatever happened to that? When were you gonna tell me about this?”

“Well, how about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?” she suggested with a shaky voice.

“Talk, now.” He demanded. Ignoring her suggestion. Keeping his gun up and pointed at her.

“Well, my mom was human, and my dad was a werewolf. I don’t know what else to really say.”

“You fucking morphed into a giant ass wolf!”

“I’m not that big honestly.”

“Y/N!”

“Half Breads like me are smaller than the pure breeds. And a certain gene causes the morphing. Most werewolves don’t morph, you just see the fangs and the claws. My kind morph.”

“Now answer the second question.”

She swallowed thickly. Still nervous and scared of the man she’s trusted and loved for years.

“I was never going to mention it to you because I was scared of this. I’m still scared of you finding out somehow some way, and killing me in my sleep.”

For the first time in the night, she saw her flash across the older Winchester’s face.

Faint foot falls can be heard, Sam entered the cave room where they stood. Sam seeing Dean aiming a gun at Y/N.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shouted at the scene.

“She’s a monster, Sam. And she’s lied to us, all this time, she’s lied to us!” he shouted.

“That’s not true, Y/N, tell him.”

“What can I tell him?”

“Dean, do you count how many times she’s had our backs?” Sam asked. “There was that werewolf case in Minnesota when the pack leader cut you up pretty badly. She murdered that son of a bitch and saved your ass. And then there was that witch in Mississippi, the witch turned you into wolf, we couldn’t move you around the city like a normal dog because people knew a wolf from a husky. She managed to find the counter spell, turn you back to human. Then there was that ---”

“I get it Sam, but she could have told me she was part fucking wolf!”

“She had all that time still, all that time to kill us and she didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter Sammy.” He says, lowering his gun looking at her with disgust. “I can’t trust her.” He says to her.

“Dean please!” she begged tearfully.

“Don’t.” he snapped.

She snapped her jaw shut and she just let her tears fall freely.

“Find your own way back to the bunker, I expect you to be out before morning.”

They stood in the cave room in dead silence despite Y/N’s sniffles from her tears.

“Don’t ever come back.” He warns.

He holsters his gun, and turns to walk out of the cave. Sam couldn’t say anything to Y/N to make her feel better before she silently walked out not far behind his brother.

One year turned into three, the Winchester’s and Y/N stayed apart but still kept up on hunting. That is until one hunt brought them together again.

It started with hearts being ripped out of college students in the Navajo desert.

Y/N was the first to investigate, one of the students place of death was just outside of an old reservation, a cave dwelling in northern Arizona.

Odd, I smell wolf, but I smell something else. She thought.

She heard a screech from a monster inside the cave dwelling.

Not wolf, wendigo. She panicked. Realizing she was unprepared.

The wendigo showed itself to her, being three times her size, head nearly reaching the caves ceiling.

“Oh, your one of the first wendigos…” she says to herself. Thinking out loud.

It let out another ear shattering screech. Y/N covered her ears desperately to save her hearing. But the wendigo drew its hand back, landing a hard swing of it’s claws. Knocking her across the cave dwelling, hitting the wall hard. Hearing a loud crack, she landed hard on the ground. She felt something warm and sticky ooze out of the back of her head.

She saw the wendigo crawl towards her before her world turned black.

Weeks later, more bodies turn up, picking up the attention of the Winchester’s.

“If this is werewolves, why was the most recent death out in the desert?” Dean asked.

“Maybe their hold up in the old caves the Navajo natives stayed in? I don’t know Dean, but it was a little over two weeks ago. And their saying a person went missing last week, they were probably looking into the same thing we are.”

“Well, let’s go gank this son of a bitch, stop the bodies from dropping out here.”

With that, they loaded up the Impala for the 50 mile trek to the Navajo Cave Dwellings.

“This looks so cool; I wonder how the Natives lived in these things.” Sam says fully mesmerized.

“Alright nerd, focus.”

Sam just rolls his eyes. As they searched higher along the cave dwellings.

“Oh my god no,” Sam breaths. His heart dropping to his stomach.

“What?” Dean asked, not far behind from Sam.

When Sam took off running, he managed to catch a good glimpse at what he was running to. More like who he was running to.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted.

Dean took off at his heel running to her side.

“Her wounds are weeks old; she may not make it Dean.”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll make it.”

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dean asked, trying to cup her head, his fingers dragging across dried blood. Pulling away, Sam seeing the dried chips of blood on his hand.

“Can wolves like her heal?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, I never looked into it.”

“Dean, what if she’s gonna die?”

“Sammy, listen to her heart, listen to her breathing, she’s still here with week old wounds. If she didn’t die yet, she’s not gonna.”

Sam began to investigate her wounds further. Seeing the infected gash on her stomach and chest.

“She’s running a bit of a fever Sammy; we need to get her out of here.” Dean says, after running a hand on her forehead.

“Dean, these are Wendigo wounds.” Sam says, pulling up her shirt. Causing the injured girl to groan.

“Easy, Y/N, you’re safe, we got you.” Dean soothed.

“Dean,” she groans. She seemed like she was awake, but her eyes weren’t opening.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Wendigo,” she whispers.

“I know baby, we know it’s a wendigo now.”

“Giant…Wendigo…” she mutters before her body goes limp in his arms.

“Giant wendigo?” Sam asked.

“Could be a hallucination?” Dean questioned.

There was a distant screech in the dwellings.

Sam looked on within the dwellings, and he caught first glimpses of the Wendigo.

“Um, Dean, we might have to abort this one.”

“Why---oh fucking shit.” Dean says following Sam’s gaze seeing the size of the Wendigo crawling out of the Dwellings.

“Sam, that death that was out here, was it even a werewolf?” Dean asked.

“Nope, they ranked it up to animal attack.”

“Then lets get Y/N, and lets get the hell out of here.” Dean says, scooping Y/N up with little to no effort. “Fuck this, lets get!” Dean shouts.

The Wendigo lets out a ear shattering screech. The boys didn’t stop, they hurried as fast as they could out of the cave.

A hand of the wendigo crashed near them, the impact causing them to fly out. Sam flying off left, rolling, and hitting a wall. Dean lost his footing, rolling down the walkway, loosing Y/N from his hold, his back hitting the wall of the pathway. And Y/N stopped halfway on the path.

The roll had dazed Dean a bit, before he noticed the Wendigo was moving to land his hand down to crush Y/N.

“Y/N! NO!” Dean shouted helplessly.

At the sound of Dean’s voice was enough for Y/N to find a small ounce of energy to wake and morph.

Her wolf form let out whine at the pain from the infected wounds. She stumbled to get her footing to jump towards Dean. The wendigo missing her just mere inches.

But the effort proved to be too much for her to handle. She collapsed onto Dean’s lap with a whine and huff. The wolf totally unconscious again.

Sam was first up rushing to his brother.

“Dean, we can’t fight this, it’s too big. And Y/N could be dying from those infections. Let’s get.”

“Help me carry her, she morphed.”

“I’ll grab her tail end; you grab her head.”

They did as planned, and they rushed back to the Impala. Laying the wolf in the back seat. Dean hurries to the driver seat, Sam already in the passenger seat. Dean turned the key in the ignition, roaring the engine to life. He puts it into gear, and he peels out of the canyon where the Cave Dwellings sat, driving full speed to the motel.

Eventually she morphed back to her human form in her unconscious state as she laid healing in the older Winchester’s bed.

Dean was not letting up; he was going on two nights of no sleeps. He had not moved from his spot by her bedside.

“Dean.” Sam says entering his room.

“I’m not hungry Sammy.”

“Dean, you know when she wakes up and when she finds out you doing this to yourself she’s gonna kick your ass, you know that right.”

“Let her.”

“Dean.” Sam says with a sigh.

“I was so angry with her for her not telling me everything. But she did have a point, “hey guys I’m part monster, don’t kill me.””

Sam stayed silent. Letting Dean just talk it out.

“She would have a reaction to silver, I never looked into, I never asked her. And I pointed a gun at her. I was literally two seconds away from killing the one girl I loved. When there was nothing wrong with her.”

“Dean, your trust with her was broken. You took the time away to reflect, and you saw neither one of you were in the wrong.”

“I overreacted.” Dean says, rubbing his eyes to push the sleep away.

“You did, and there’s nothing wrong with it. She’s the most understanding girl I think, I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll forgive you Dean.”

“You remember that witch case?” Dean asked.

“The one where you were changed into a wolf?”

Dean nodded. “Remember you asked why a wolf?”

Sam nodded.

“It’s because of her. Somehow, some part of me knew she was a wolf. She’s my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? So, changing what spell did that witch use on you anyway?”

“She kept saying something about me walking around this world lost and alone. She said the spell would turn me into the spirit of my soulmate.”

“Wolf, because she’s part wolf.”

Dean nods.

She stirs with a groan pulling the boys attention away from their story to her.

“Sam, did you ever look into her healing process, is it different to us?”

“It is, she heals faster. But her wounds were infected. I gave her, her a shot to help her body fight the infection. Her color is coming back, she’s looking better.”

“She does.” Dean agrees, letting out a yawn.

“Dude, get some sleep.”

“I’m fine Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he exited his brother’s room.

She woke up to the familiar scent of the Winchester’s, but the scent of one of the brothers was stronger than the other.

Dean.

She woke up in his room. Feeling a weight on her hip, she sits up slightly seeing him use her hip as a pillow. And he was sound asleep.

His arms looked as if they were trying to hold her as best as he could from where he sat.

She tried to sit up more, but a sharp pain stopped her. She winces.

“You might want to stay in bed, you were banged up pretty bad.” She heard Sam say in Dean’s dark room.

“Wait, what? How?” she asked, trying to understand. Remember.

“We were hunting werewolves, when one death of a victim took us to where you were.”

“Did you guys?”

“Oh, hell no. That fucker was way too big. I don’t think one flare would kill it.”

“You didn’t try?” she asked.

“No, we were more worried about you. You were in pretty rough shape.”

Dean stirred, snuggling closer to her, rubbing his head into her hip.

She ran her hand through his short strands of his hair.

“He was really worried about you, believe it or not.”

“I could feel it.”

“I guess that’s the soulmate thing.”

“What?”

“You remember that witch case, when Dean was a wolf?”

She nods.

“The spell used; Dean says the witch used a spell to turn him into the spirit of his soulmate. And he turned into a wolf.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I guess.” Sam shrugs.

In his sleep, Dean let out a big yawn. Almost pulling him out of his deep slumber.

“Dean.” She says.

“hmm.” He says sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Come to bed.”

With his eyes still closed, he works at pulling off his boots, taking off his flannel, shirt, and pants. Leaving his boxer briefs on. He pulls the covers off of her, and snuggles in close to her, wrapping an arm around her middle. And snuggling his head into the crook of her neck.

“At least he’s a sleep.”

“I know, like I said, I felt it. I could feel that he was going to wake up sore if he was gonna stay like that.”

“You two make thee most cutest couple, I’m just admitting that right now.”

“Did I just hear Sam Winchester refer to us as cute?” she smirked playfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just good seeing him happy again.”

“I know, I—”

“I know you could feel it, I’m heading to bed now darlin’, good night.”

“Night Sammy.” She yawned, letting the older Winchester snuggle more into her. “Night Dean, I love you.”

She woke up feeling a hand play with her hair, petting through her long strands atop her head.

She hums, snuggling into the hand. Hearing him chuckle. And felt warm plump limps kiss her forehead briefly.

She opens her eyes to a pair of beautiful green ones. “Hi.” She says softly.

“Hi, sleep good?” Dean asked.

“Better than I had in years.”

“I bet,” he says, giving her another peck on her head. “I called Garth, I’m having him get your things and we’re moving you back in with us.”

“I take it I’m welcome back?” she asked carefully.

“You are welcome back, soulmate.” He says snuggling back into her making her giggle.

“Are all caught up now?”

“I think we are.” Dean admits. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Never again, no more secrets, no more mistrust. Never leave me again.”

“I don’t plan on it Winchester.”

Their lips crash into one another in a passionate, much needed kiss.

Tags:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/8/2021

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talesofesther · 4 years ago

Text

Anchor - Part 9

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: This part is really sweet, I liked it, and I think it has a reeeally nice flow to it. The idea I initially had for this was entirely different but as I was writing things just happened and it turned out like this. I changed it a couple of times to fit Five's character so I hope it's good enough. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

Y/N took slow steps into the filthy place. In every sense, this place defined everything she didn't like. Sweaty and rich men were screaming at the top of their lungs, swinging their money around, urging incessantly for the men on the ring to fight to the death, or at least until they're unconscious. The dim light and downright bad structure made everything look even worse. Like the ones fighting were more animals than humans. Y/N felt nothing but uncomfortable here.

It was hard to believe that it was Luther the one on the ring, this didn't feel worthy of him. Or anyone for that matter. The man Luther was fighting with was big, but somehow he still managed to be bigger.

However, he wasn't fighting back. At some point he started to take all the hits, his face starting to become bloody, and he still asked for more.

"What's he doing?" Y/N asked, on edge with the scene unfolding before her.

"I don't know" Five said as he gripped the fence tighter. "Luther are you crazy? Just hit him!"

Everyone was yelling the same thing to him, to fight back. But he didn't, and with one last punch, Luther went flying and landed on the ground. Blood coming out of his mouth, sweat all over his body, but he looked weirdly pleased. That's one scene Y/N would never imagine happening.

Slowly, the people started to leave the horrible place. Everyone seeming equally surprised by the outcome of the fight. Five, Y/N, and Vanya were currently standing outside.

"We need to speak with him" Five insisted, his hands on his pockets while his foot hit the ground anxiously.

"I know Five, but I think everyone has had quite enough for today. Especially him, we can come here first thing tomorrow morning" Y/N tried to reason with him as it was pretty clear that Luther was in no shape to talk right now.

"I agree with her, I have to go back to the farm" Vanya stepped into the conversation. She looked weirdly naive for someone that already caused an apocalypse. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. Y/N thought.

Five let out a long sigh, he was clearly impatient and not at all happy with the decision. "Alright, fine. First thing tomorrow morning, be here Vanya". Then he turned to Y/N. "Let's go".

_________

It was a little late already, so Elliott's place was dark. Everyone was probably asleep already, so, at the moment, Y/N and Five were the only ones up. She turned on one of the table lamps in the living room, it did a poor job of illuminating the place, but it was all she needed. The darkness did help with calming her nerves anyway. The girl threw herself on the comfy couch and let out a sigh, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

But not a second later, a bright light hit her face, making her frown and let out an annoyed groan. Five had to disturb her peace by turning on the light in the kitchen.

Y/N slowly turned her head to his direction, an unpleasant look on her face. "Why do you have to drink so much coffee?" The girl asked in a lazy and unamused tone.

Five only glanced at her form on the couch and turned his eyes back to his mug, a small smirk on his face.

Scoffing, Y/N turned her head towards the ceiling and muttered "rude".

"This... Can harm you, you know?" The girl got up from the couch and made her way to Five with slow steps. A malicious grin was adorning her slightly parted lips, making Five almost drop his mug.

The boy raised one of his eyebrows at her, shifting from one foot to the other but never looking away from her figure.

"Yeah, high blood pressure. Anxiety. Insomnia. Rapid heart rate. The list goes on" stopping with just a small distance between them, Y/N crossed her arms. Taking the opportunity to eye Five up and down. He was just a little taller than her, his eyebrows always a little frowned in concentration, his soft hair perfectly falling above his eyes, and his knuckles slowly going white while holding the mug. "I'm afraid you're gonna break that if you grip any tighter" Y/N said in a whisper as her gaze lazily moved from his mug to his eyes.

Five let out a nervous chuckle, almost forgetting how to breathe. What is she doing? She's... Different. Were the only things in his confused mind. Her words, the way she was holding herself, her body so close to him. It made him feel uneasy, and yet he wanted her even closer.

"Are you drunk?" Was the only thing he could say without losing his composure.

That made Y/N finally go back to her normal self as she let out a genuine laugh and walked away from him, back to sit on the couch. Apparently very amused with the way she made him feel.

Five sighed as he shook his head at her. This girl. He slowly followed her steps, sitting beside her on the couch, putting a reasonable distance between them. His mug firmly in his hand.

"No. But I am exhausted, which is... Basically the same thing" Y/N said, once Five made himself comfortable beside her.

Five brought his mug to his lips and took a sip, a small smile on his face. "You're weird".

That made Y/N fully turn her body to him, sitting sideways on the couch. She faked an offended expression and said "excuse me sir. Compared to you and your family I'm the definition of normal". Without even finishing, Y/N was already laughing.

Five chuckled and looked down at his lap to his half-empty coffee mug. "Fair enough" he whispered to her. Y/N made him feel incredibly light, free. But his mind always went back to the same place, playing cruel tricks on him. You don't deserve this. It's not real. How would she like someone like you? Those were the thoughts that often came to Five's head whenever he felt like letting her in. Just like now.

It all still hurts so much, and he's not even sure why. He wants her company so badly, and he has it now. So why does it feel like someone is squeezing his chest?

To Five it was nothing but confused emotions. But the truth is that he craves all of this so much. The touch, the conversation, the connection with someone real. That he's terrified that it isn't real, that in the blink of an eye everything will just end and she'll leave. Or worse, die. He felt alone for so long and now she was making him feel cared for, she was giving him everything he craved for so long and he just wanted it to be... Real. But what if this was all in his head and in one wrong movement or word he drove her away?

And it all made Five feel so overwhelmed all of a sudden. His mouth became dry, his throat felt annoyingly tight. That he missed the small tear that scaped his eye and made its way down his cheek.

But Y/N noticed. She noticed how his hands holding the mug started to tremble, how his breathing was fast and shallow, and how his eyes remained on his mug, but his stare was so lost and far away. Y/N was familiar with anxiety and panic attacks, and maybe this wasn't exactly the case here, but it was definitely something along those lines.

So the girl carefully took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then, ever so gently, she sat a little closer to Five. His face looked troubled and his eyes were glossy with tears in them. It broke her heart to see him like this. Y/N slowly brought her hand up and brushed away the one tear that had fallen on his soft cheek.

Her touch made Five finally turn in her direction and be aware of what just happened. He was about to full-on panic because he just cried in front of Y/N. His whole body tensed and he was preparing himself to teleport away or just make a run for it. But then her hand remained there for the next couple of seconds, her thumb lazily caressing his cheek, a kind smile on her lips. And he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.

Y/N could visibly see the exact moment he came back to reality and realized what happened, and only when she saw that he wasn't going to disappear on her, that she removed her hand from him. She could tell he felt vulnerable right now and it was obvious this wasn't a common feeling for him. The entire way he was portraying himself right now was totally uncharacteristic of him, and Y/N knew that. Hence why he looked like he had seen a ghost. She wasn't going to ask why he was suddenly like this, it wasn't her place to pry.

The living room was still partially dark, making them both feel shielded from the real world.

"Have I ever told you the story about this scar?" Y/N's voice had a very low tone, only for him to hear and to not break the intimate aura of the room. Five's body was still tense, feeling himself lost as he had no idea what to do with himself now. But he looked down at her hand.

Y/N showed him the scar that had hunted her for many years. It wasn't big, it ran from the end of her palm and just some inches past her wrist, and it was clear that it was from being burned.

Her voice remained gentle as she said "I got it from the night that I lost my parents". The girl looked up at Five with a sad smile on her face. He met her eyes as well, his lip would occasionally quiver but his eyes looked more focused already. Y/N's attempt to drive his mind away from whatever it was that was bothering him was working.

"There was a fire in our house, it spread quickly. I was just... A little girl, terrified, I had no idea what was happening." Y/N furrowed her brows as she vaguely remembered that night. Five's attention was almost fully on her again.

"I could hear people arguing, fighting. Then my mom... She found me and told me to run, as fast as I could. I didn't want to leave her, but I did. While I was getting out I... Burned my hand, at the time I was so scared that I didn't even felt it." Now it was her eyes that were filling with tears. But before they could spill, she felt a feather-like touch tracing her scar. The fact that Five was willingly reaching out to her sent a shiver running down Y/N's spine.

Brushing her tears away, she continued "the- the day after, I found out that my parents had died. So, from then on my aunt raised me. Every day I would ask myself the same question 'why didn't my mother run away with me'?" Y/N chuckled. "Guess I'll never know".

She rested her head on the back of the couch, her eyes looking at Five in an adoring way. He looked calmer, which made a small smile come up to her face.

Five gulped. "I'm sorry about that" he said with a wavering voice. He felt ashamed, vulnerable, and confused. But he felt no desire to leave her, on the contrary, he carefully moved his hand down from her wrist and grabbed her hand properly. His grip was unsure, afraid even, but he remained there anyway. His eyes frantically searching her face for any signs of disapproval, but he only found... Affection. That made his eyes water all over again.

"Me too" Y/N said in a barely audible whisper. She gripped his hand tighter, and with a smile, leaned her head down to rest on Five's shoulder. "We'll be okay, Five" with this last whisper, the girl closed her tired eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Five took a shaky breath, wondering what to do. After some seconds of looking around the room and debating with himself whether or not he should be there, he decided to let himself have this one night. His touch-starved body needed this more than he would ever care to admit. His fears and insecurities disappeared for now, and the only thing he could feel was her. Her hand holding his, her body pressed close to him, and her steady breath on his neck. Slowly, he nuzzled his face on her hair. Closing his eyes, more tears fell. He wasn't sure why, he never was, but now he was too tired to think about it.

Five didn't have any nightmares that night.

When Y/N woke up the next day, she was laying in a very uncomfortable position on the couch. Alone. Rubbing her eyes the girl got up and looked around the empty room, the events of last night slowly making their way back to her brain.

The girl made her way to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water when suddenly a blue light appeared and almost made her drop her glass. "Jesus Five" Y/N muttered while cleaning the drops of water she spilled on herself.

Five didn't expect her to be up already, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. The... Moment they shared last night made him confused about where their relationship stood, it also made him think if he had crossed any boundaries by staying with her for the night. He thought about why she decided to stay with him too, why would she? He clenched and unclenched his fists in his pockets in anxiousness. He felt so much, and he felt that his control was slipping from him more each passing day.

Putting her glass down, Y/N made her way to him. "Did you sleep well?" A small smile making it's way to her face, testing the waters.

Five met her eyes and gulped down his feelings. "We need to go see Luther". And with that, he turned around and left.

Y/N chuckled. Okay, so we're not talking about it.

"Sure" she adjusted her clothes and followed Five outside.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

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littlestarofthewest · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Back To You

This is my gift to @cowboydeluxe for the Morston Secret Santa. I hope you’ll enjoy it :)

Pairing: Arthur x John | Words: 4121 | Rating: Explicit | Tags: blood, gore, smut

Arthur holds up his binoculars to check the treeline again. Next to him, John is fumbling with some matches, trying to light a cigarette. Heavy winds shake the trees, and the sky is so dark that it might as well be night.

John finally gets the cigarette lit and barely manages to take a drag before Arthur wiggles his fingers at him to demand the cigarette from him. He doesn't look at John while giving it back seconds later, his eyes still on the forest in front of them.

"Are you sure about this one?" Arthur asks.

"He was bitten three years ago," John says, blowing smoke into the air above their heads. "His family says he didn't take it well. He's wandering around in those woods and hasn't changed back for half a year."

"Then there should be more of them," Arthur says with doubt in his voice.

John shrugs. "Seems like the locals don't go into the woods anymore. That's why he's coming closer to town now, looking for someone to bite."

"Alright," Arthur says, finally putting the binoculars down. "Let's take him."

They head back to their horses and ride over to the treeline. Arthur rides in without hesitation, but John stops for a moment to take a deep breath. He prefers the times when they only trap werewolves and make them see reason. Most of them know how to control themselves, after all. This one is marked for death, though. He took too many lives and changed god knows how many poor souls.

Inside the forest, it doesn't take Arthur long to find a trail they can follow. The werewolf must have been here recently. They pass a little hunting cabin that's been smashed to pieces and even some uprooted trees.

"He must be a big one," Arthur says, and John nods, a shiver running down his spine.

"Sure we can take him?"

"Size doesn't matter if we hit him right." Arthur takes his rifle from his satchel and points into the trees. "You go left. We make a circle and meet in the middle. Let's see if we can find him tonight."

John's not sure he wants to find that beast, but he still steers his horse in the pointed out direction. The wind blows through the trees, and the constant rustling of leaves makes John nervous. He strains his ears for other sounds, nature way too loud for his taste.

More fallen trees litter the ground, and John finds a pretty mutilated deer. That werewolf must be out of his mind hungry. That's just one more reason to leave, but that's not what they do. He and Arthur have been hunting these monsters for years, ever since one almost killed Arthur.

John's lost in thought, remembering how shaken up Arthur was back then. He doesn't notice how nervous his horse is until it's too late. It shrieks, spooked by a sound in the trees, and a second later, something hot and heavy jumps them, knocking John off his horse.

The werewolf follows the horse, and John does his best to get to his feet, but when his horse gallops out of reach, the werewolf turns, looking for easier prey. John doesn't plan on being just that. He aims his rifle, and before the werewolf can take another step, John riddles it with silver bullets.

At first, it seems to be a done deal. The werewolf sinks to the ground, blood oozing out of his wounds, but then he lets out a horrific scream before getting back up. John does his best to reload as quickly as he can, but the werewolf lunges forward, a lot quicker than him.

John barely manages to hold up his rifle before the werewolf pushes him to the ground. He snaps at John, his stinking breath washing over John, making him dizzy. Still, John uses the rifle as his last line of defense, hoping against hope that there's a way out of this.

"Arthur! Help me!" he screams against the sound of the wind.

The werewolf pauses for a second as if he remembers that he used to talk to people, but then he growls and snaps at John again, his fangs closing around the rifle. When the werewolf pulls away, John can no longer hold on to the weapon, and it flies away, dropping to the ground out of reach for John.

Letting out a scream, the werewolf gets in motion again, but before he can jump John, he gets pushed back by bullets hitting his face. Arthur comes rushing through the trees on his horse, sticking his knife into the werewolf's head. He screams even worse than before, but instead of attacking them again, he takes off, disappearing deep into the woods.

Arthur turns his horse and jumps out of the saddle next to John. "Hey, you alright? Did he get you?"

"I don't think so," John says, but he's still unable to move.

Arthur helps him up, brushing leaves and dirt from his clothes. "Let's get you home. Where's your horse?"

"Ran off."

"Then you'll ride with me."

Arthur gets back in the saddle before pulling John up, and they make their way back at a slow pace. After a while, Arthur looks over his shoulder. "You're still with me?"

"All good," John says, a tingling feeling in his chest.

He knows that Arthur's just trying to be a good friend, but he still enjoys it a lot to be taken care of. Nobody made much of a fuss about him all his life, so every bit of affection makes him almost dizzy.

John holds on to Arthur's jacket, resting his head on Arthur's back. It's unnecessary since he's not even injured, but John won't let such a chance slide. After all, it doesn't often happen that he can be close to somebody, especially the one he longs to be with the most.

As they reach the hunting cabin they're currently staying in, Arthur hops down first before helping John down from his horse. Inside, Arthur gets a fire going, hanging up a small kettle to warm up some water.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says, and John slips off his jacket.

When he tries to open his shirt's buttons, he fumbles a little, losing control of his fingers. Without a word, Arthur reaches for the buttons instead and peels the shirt from John's lean body.

John never would have asked that of him, but Arthur fetches the warm water and washes John, starting by his face.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks, his eyes boring into John's.

"That thing just surprised me," John says. "I thought I had it, but it just wouldn't go down."

Arthur drags the washcloth over John's shoulders and along his neck, his eyes roaming over every inch of John's skin. John knows he's only checking him for wounds, but it still makes his skin prickle.

"We shot it full of silver, and my knife was laced with wolf's bane," Arthur says. "He will die tonight."

"What if he's one of the old ones?"

Arthur huffs. "I'm still not convinced that's a thing."

He keeps washing John, moving from his stomach to his back, while John thinks about the stories. The werewolves Arthur and John hunt are part human, part wolf. With enough focus, they can switch back and forth, making it possible for the ones infected to stay human, even during the full moon.

The old ones are said to be different, though. They're more animal than human, and over time, they fall into being wolves all the time, unable to think clearly. Supposedly, they're not easily killed, if at all. John always wondered if they might encounter one of the old ones one day.

Arthur's skeptical about them even existing, but John can't shake the idea. That monster that jumped him today seemed quite old and clearly out of its mind.

"Are you hungry?" Arthur asks, bringing John back to reality.

"I could eat," John says.

Arthur gets up and throws a fresh shirt over to John. It's one of Arthur's. "I'll fetch you something."

Arthur goes outside, leaving John to bury his face in Arthur's shirt, sighing deeply.

-------

John is still asleep when Arthur gets up, snoring slightly. Arthur watches him for a moment, a new wave of relief washing over him. Yesterday was a close one. Arthur's determined to hunt rogue werewolves, but John's life is too much of a price to pay.

Arthur can't help himself and strokes a strand of hair out of John's face, his fingers lingering for a moment on John's cheek. Arthur wishes he could do this while John was awake, but he doesn't dare. Washing him like he did yesterday is much likely the closest he'll ever get. Arthur often thought about confessing his feelings to John, but he's too scared to destroy their friendship.

With a sigh, Arthur turns around and heads outside. Although he told John that the werewolf was surely dead, he's not so sure. Arthur heard John shoot, knowing that he didn't miss a single shot. That thing should have been more than dead by the time Arthur put the knife in its head. Arthur needs to be sure.

He rides back into the woods, following John's tracks from the day before. It doesn't take him long to reach the spot where they fought off the werewolf. Arthur gets down from the horse, checking the ground for more clues.

There are drops of blood on the leaves, so they at least wounded the werewolf. Arthur keeps going but soon loses the trail. The strong winds must have blown the leaves away, making it hard for Arthur to find anything.

He's not sure how long he wandered through the woods, but after a while, he comes back to the same spot without any idea where the werewolf went. Arthur whistles for his horse, ready to go back and make sure that John is okay.

Arthur's about to get in the saddle when he hears stomping and breaking wood. He grabs his rifle right when the werewolf appears on the other side of the clearing. Arthur's horse flares its nostrils but doesn't run, and although Arthur aims his rifle at the werewolf, he can't bring himself to shoot either. This isn't the werewolf from yesterday, the fur somewhat shaggy and a lot darker.

"Change back and tell me who you are," Arthur says, pointing his rifle, "or I have to shoot."

The werewolf lets out a low howl and goes on its hind legs, moving its paws around as if it wants to show Arthur something. Arthur shakes his head.

"Look, mister, if you want to live, you change back right now."

The werewolf whines and dances around on the spot, and Arthur can't shake the feeling that it looks familiar, but it's too dangerous to trust a werewolf at sight. Arthur puts a warning shot at its feet, and with a soul-crushing cry, it jumps away and disappears between the trees.

Arthur waits a few more seconds before lowering his gun, and he's about to leave when something hits his back with force. He stumbles forward and falls to the ground, the weapon buried under him. Arthur's horse neighs, and by the time Arthur looks around, he sees it kicking at a werewolf.

It's the beast from the day before, and now that he sees it up close, Arthur wonders if maybe John was right about the old ones. This thing in front of him feels old and out of place, and it still got Arthur's knife sticking out of its head. There's just no way it can still be alive.

Arthur's mind is filled with every rumor he's heard about the old ones. They're far beyond reason, nothing human left inside of them. Wolf's bane and silver hurt them, but the only thing that can kill them is another werewolf. Arthur heard stories about beheading them or setting them on fire, but there's absolutely nothing he can do to defend himself.

Leaving his rifle where it is, Arthur gets to his feet and does the only sensible thing - run. He zigzags through the trees, hearing a loud growl behind him. Seconds later, Arthur's horse is stomping past him, far out of reach.

Arthur curses and thinks about hiding or climbing one of the trees, but he's pretty sure that the werewolf will catch his scent with the way he walked through the woods earlier. Crashing sounds behind Arthur tell him that the werewolf is gaining on him. Despite his better judgment, Arthur looks back.

The beast comes after him with giant leaps, only a few feet away. Arthur thinks about John, regretting that he'll never get to tell him how he feels. All Arthur can do is face the end. He stops and waits for the werewolf to reach him.

It never does.

The werewolf from earlier jumps the old one, burying its teeth in its opponent's neck. The old one throws it off after a short struggle, and they begin a fight to the death. Growling fills the woods, the wolves biting and scratching at each other, and the old one lands a hit, tearing open the other's cheek with its claws.

Arthur's about to run off when the new werewolf lets out a pained scream, turning Arthur's blood to ice. It's almost as if he can feel the pain himself, a strong urge to protect the wolf taking hold of him. He pulls out his revolver and shoots at the old werewolf.

It can't feel much more than a sting, but it still turns, rushing at Arthur. He ducks behind a tree, feeling the impact when the old wolf runs into it. It growls with fury, clawing at everything in sight, but it doesn't land a hit. Arthur shoots it into both paws, making it howl.

Then, there's a horrible ripping sound, and blood splatters to the ground next to the tree. Arthur stares in horror as the old wolf drops to the ground, its throat ripped open. The new werewolf isn't done with it, though. It steps over the other wolf, scratching and tearing until the beast's head comes off.

The woods turn silent after that. No more howls, no wind, and no shooting. Just Arthur's rapid breathing, and the werewolf licking one of its wounded paws. Arthur steps back, holding up the revolver. The werewolf follows the sudden movement and gets to its feet, taking a step closer to Arthur.

"Who the hell are-?" Arthur interrupts himself when the sun falls through the trees, illuminating the werewolf's face. Arthur would recognize these eyes everywhere.

"John?"

The wolf ducks its head, letting out a low howl. Arthur takes a step closer, unable to help himself. He stretches out his hand, and the wolf holds his face against it before moving closer, rubbing his whole body against Arthur like a cat.

"Jesus, what happened?" Arthur asks.

He knows there's no way John can answer him in this state. Somehow, the old werewolf must have hurt John, turning him in the process. The first time coming back is said to be the hardest, and it looks like John doesn't know how to do it.

Arthur runs his hand over John's head, and somehow it feels a lot less awkward than he thought it would. Then he holds John's face in his hand, holding his gaze.

"You have to turn back, you hear me?"

John looks back at him but whines, rubbing his face against Arthur's hand.

"Come here," Arthur says, for once giving in to his feelings. He hugs John to his chest, running his fingers through John's fur. "You have to come back to me. I know you can do it."

He's holding on to John as tight as he can, and suddenly, John seems to shrink in his arms. The fur turns to warm skin under Arthur's fingers, and John grabs Arthur's shirt and leans against him, his face a bloody mess.

"Arthur," he says, his voice even raspier than usual, right before passing out in Arthur's arms.

Arthur sinks down to the ground with him, just holding him to his chest. "It's alright, John. I've got you."

------

John wakes up from a horrible nightmare, pictures of bloody teeth and sharp claws still on his mind. Although he feels exhausted, he tries to get up, just to find out that he can't. Thick ropes tie his arms to the bed. John pulls at them, but there's no way he can free himself.

"Help," John croaks, the one word making him cough as his throat burns like fire.

Arthur appears in his field of vision, a worried expression on his face. He holds a cup to John's lips and lifts his head enough so John can take a few sips.

"What happened?" John asks while Arthur sits down next to him.

"You don't remember the woods?" he asks. "How you've fought with the werewolf?"

More pictures race through John's mind, and he groans. "It wasn't a dream. I'm one of them now."

"I have no idea how, but it seems so."

Arthur sounds sad, defeated. It pains John to be the reason for it. "Was a scratch on my leg. I found it after waking up. I figured you'd go back into the woods, so I followed you and then-"

John doesn't finish the sentence, unable to remember what happened next. All he feels is a sense of dread and the fear of losing Arthur.

"Guess you turned on your way," Arthur says. "Lucky for me, or I would be dead."

"Yeah, lucky," John says, pulling on his ropes again. He's not sure why, but it begins to annoy him that he's tied down. "Any chance you get me out of these?"

"Not sure I should," Arthur says. "I feared you might turn in your sleep, and you still could."

"I changed back, didn't I?"

"You did."

Despite saying the words, Arthur doesn't move. Hot anger flares in John's chest, and he pulls on the ropes with more force, his voice a deep growl when he speaks. "Let me out!"

"You gotta stay with me, John," Arthur says, his calm tone only riling John up.

"I don't want to," John grunts, "I want to turn and rip these off."

"If you change back after such a short time, you might not be able to do it again."

"I know, goddammit," John curses, still straining his muscles without meaning to. "I have no idea how to stop."

Arthur puts a hand on John's chest, holding him down. "You have to fight it."

"I don't know how."

John pushes himself up, fighting against Arthur's strength. He wants to be strong again, have claws and teeth to rip everybody apart who stands in his way. He wants power and no more painful thoughts.

Everything inside John wants to turn, only one thing holding him back. Arthur's hand on his chest.

"This helps," John huffs. "You - touching me."

"This?" Arthur asks, looking at his own hand with wonder.

"Please, Arthur, don't let me turn."

Arthur watches John for a moment, then he leans forward to untie the ropes. "It's gonna be fine."

"Are you crazy?" John shouts, but Arthur doesn't stop.

The second John's hand is free, he grabs Arthur, holding on to his shirt. Arthur unties his other arm before looking at him. "You can do it. Like you said, you turned back."

John wishes he could trust himself like that, but his insides are burning, the wolf fighting to come out.

"Please, Arthur," he begs, his voice getting weaker. "I need something. You."

Arthur's coming closer, John tugging eagerly at his shirt. They look at each other in the eyes until Arthur closes the gap between them, touching his lips to John's.

The wolf inside screams, but John's singing heart is drowning him out. Arthur is kissing him. That's something the wolf can't have.

John throws his arms around Arthur and kisses him like his life depends on it. "More. Please."

They deepen the kiss, and John tears at Arthur's clothes. He pulls off his shirt and Arthur cups John's stitched up face, holding on to him while John gets Arthur's pants down. He eagerly pulls at Arthur, desperate to be as close as he always longed for.

They end up pressed against each other, kissing and touching, forgetting the world around them. John can feel the wolf disappear, Arthur the only thing on his mind. He can touch him, taste him, and hold him close like he always wanted.

John can't remember being this happy before. Despite his pain and the wolf bite, this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"You're with me?" Arthur whispers into his ear, and John pulls him in for a kiss, smiling against his lips.

"Just keep going, Morgan."

They grind against each other until John can barely take it anymore. He reaches down to help them both along. Arthur growls, sounding like a wolf himself. His teeth scrape along John's neck as if he wants to bite down any second. The thought drives John over the edge, his hand moving in a frenzy until he takes Arthur with him.

Arthur buries his face against John's neck, both of them catching their breath until Arthur moves and they settle down next to each other.

"You're good?" Arthur asks, and John's stomach seems to do a little hop. Arthur's concern for him is almost more than he can handle.

"Yeah, all good, I don't feel like turning anymore," John says. Arthur turns to him, running his fingers over the scratch on John's thigh. It makes John wonder about the future. "How do I keep it from happening?"

"You find something else that matters more to you," Arthur says without pause.

"And you think that will work?"

"I know it does," Arthur says.

There's something about the way he said it that gives John pause. "How would you know?"

Arthur turns to him, something wild in his eyes that John has never seen before. Then he opens his mouth to growl at John, his teeth sharper and longer than they usually are. John blinks in surprise, and suddenly Arthur's face is back to normal.

"You're a werewolf? Since when?" John asks.

"Remember the one that attacked me back in the day, before we started hunting them? I only said I was fine, but it got me."

John stares at him, unable to believe it. "All these years? But I've never seen you turn."

Arthur runs his hands over his face as if the wolf inside of him could come off this way. "I did a couple of times in the beginning. Killed a few animals at a farm. Hosea stopped me before I could kill the farmer, too. Told me to find a purpose, something to keep me in the human world. And if I ever turned again, he promised to shoot me. Haven't turned since."

It's hard for John to get all of this into his head, but his thoughts finally arrive at the present day. "That thing in the woods was about to kill you, and you didn't turn?"

"Couldn't risk it," Arthur says. "Not with you nearby. You might have ended up with two werewolves on your ass."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Says the feller who's jumped an old one after being a werewolf for all but five minutes."

"Saving your ass," John insists, and Arthur nods.

"You still have to promise me something."

"What?"

"I know it's tempting, especially after you killed that wolf today, but if we keep doing this, you can't turn ever again," Arthur says, his voice dead serious. "There's no guarantee that I can bring you back."

"Fine, I promise," John says, although he's not sure if he can keep his word. "What's your thing then? That keeps you human."

Arthur huffs, not quite meeting John's gaze, and his answer is barely audible. "You."

A shiver runs down John's spine. The idea of being so important to Arthur for such a long time takes his breath away. Still, he can't pass off an opportunity to tease Arthur.

"I see," he says, "so you've been in love with me all this time?"

Arthur growls. "Shut up, Marston."

"Make me."

John is just joking, but Arthur lunges at him, taking his breath away with a kiss. John's about to defend himself when Arthur's lips ghost along his ear.

"Yes," he says, the one word bringing goosebumps all over John's body.

He puts his arms around Arthur, holding him close. He's no longer afraid.

"Me too."

#morston #morstonsecretsanta2020 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #my writing #werewolf au

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quillfeather21 · 4 years ago

Text

Class 1A Dorms Headcanons

(Theses kiddos are all disasters. Please someone save Aizawa)

1/ A little while into the dorm system, the kids started realizing that while it was great and all. The dorms did not have all the stuff their individual diets needed. Kirishima needed iron and thus had resorted to chewing ice at all hours of the day (effectively scaring Todoroki), Momo had ate an entire thing of coconut oil, Bakugou at one point had dumped salt into his mouth, effectively kidnapping the salt shaker. Aizawa just looked at them and was like “why didn’t you tell me?” Their response? None of them had thought that far.

2/ they can’t play competitive games because SOMEONE (cough Bakugou cough) takes them personally and throws hissy fits whenever something doesn’t go his way. Monopoly was the first game to be banned by Aizawa (Bakugou had to give Kaminari money one too many times), Poker following the day after (Iida had a royal flush and didn’t even realize it. Bakugou’s scream of rage could be heard from the other end of the campus)

3/ They all completely forgot that maintenance existed for a reason and thought Aizawa would be disappointed if they broke stuff so they just... did DIY repairs themselves and hoped it didn’t break any further? The microwave shakes whenever someone uses it but hitting it a couple of times usually clears that up. They have to keep the kitchen faucet facing right at a 45° angle otherwise it won’t work but it’s cool they taped the pipe up with Sero’s tape. The dryer makes a funny noise and no one uses it after dark but Tokoyami preformed an exorcism on it so they should be cool.

4/ tried to hide a cat PLUS her kittens. Bakugou found the cat while running and then she had her kittens under his bed so whoops guess what? He claimed himself The Godfather of the cat’s kittens and the rest of the class decided they were aunts and uncles. Koda named them Honey (Mama Cat), Earl Gray, Chamomile, and Peppermint (the kittens). Aizawa KNEW something was up when Midoriya shoved something into his coat when Aizawa made a surprise visit and when asked he tearfully told him it was drugs

Aizawa: problem child what’s in your coat?

Midoriya, hiding Chamomile in his coat: d-drugs?

He helped them find homes for the kittens (taking Chamomile himself because she was the classes favorite) and Honey/Mama Cat/ Little Bitch (who came up with that nickname? Guess) becomes the resident dorm cat.

5/ Movie Nights are an hour long debate because NO ONE CAN AGREE ON ANYTHING. If Iida wants to watch a documentary, Kaminari wants to watch Avengers for the fifth time. Bakugou wants to watch a few episodes of a crime show? Midoriya wants to watch an Reality show. They had to make a list where everyone wrote what they wanted to watch down and they’re just going down the list. If it’s not your night suck it up and wait your turn like a good hero hopeful.

6/ Has a betting pool for everything. Betting pool for when KiriBaku would get together? Kaminari won that one. Betting pool for who’d pass the next test? Whoops give it to Midoriya he guessed right.

7/ Has so many groupchats. And Bakugou is somehow a part of them ALL. One is the main chat. Then there’s the homework help chat, the shitty parents chat, the blond and fabulous chat, the guy chat, the LGBT chat (which is really just the main chat but they bitch about their crushes), the mental illness chat, the more expresso less depresso chat, the gym rat chat, the girl chat (Bakugou got added to help settle a debate and just... never really left? He could at anytime but watching the girls bitch about how stupid the guys is HILARIOUS because he’s like same?)

8/ Crying is not allowed because if someone sees you cry it’s only a matter of time before 1- Midoriya and Kirishima start crying because they’re both empathetic criers. 2- KODA starts crying and summoning animals to try and cheer the person crying up. 3-Everyone tries to comfort the person crying and it just turns into a mess of tissues being shoved towards people and people tripping over one another to try and help.

9/ If things get too domestic and fluffy then they have to go on a Bakugou Hunt because Bakugou gets nervous because many emotions? How feel? How react? Positive vibes, in THIS economy? And so he goes into hiding and wouldn’t be seen until found. (He shoved himself under his desk at one point, sitting there scrunched up as far back as he could go, having an existential crisis about having positive friendships? No one screaming at him? Wow this is shocking.)

10/ Thunderstorms are awful and evil and Aizawa suffers. His entire class hates thunderstorms for different reasons and he is the one to deal with it. They usually just camp out in the common room together wielding flashlights and phones as weapons against the evil darkness that comes with thunderstorms.

11/ Plants. Plants everywhere. Momo likes plants for the design quality, Bakugou uses herbs to cook so he plants herbs and takes care of them, and Todoroki? He has his orchid that he takes care of almost religiously. If you hurt his orchid, touch his orchid, or even look at his orchid wrong? Prepare to die.

12/ Have gotten kicked out of multiple stores one way or another. (Sero and Kaminari, why did you challenge Bakugou to a light saber duel? “For the lols”)

13/ Had a six week long streak of tag. It was nothing to see them sitting calmly in class and then Bakugou would place his hand on Hagakure’s shoulder and go “tag”. All hell would break loose as people scrambled to get away from whoever was tagger.

14/ Got rid of the old fashioned tea kettle in favor of a Keurig after Todoroki refused to go into the kitchen because of the kettle.

15/ Momo is class mom and Iida is class dad. The respective squad parents always go to them before doing anything batshit crazy.

16/ Would murder for any of their friends, no questions asked.

17/ There is one spot on the common room floor that is called “Bad Spot”. No one touches it with their feet, socked or not, no one puts anything there, no furniture, won’t even STAND there. They will go AROUND the Bad Spot. Aizawa was so confused when Bakugou shoved him out of the way and only offered “that’s the bad spot” as an explanation.

#mha headcanons #class 1a #class1a Headcanons #Aizawa’s crazy kids #they’re all disasters

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

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you’re my adventure

Nishinoya x Reader - Scenario

desc: engagements and soft moments

a/n: a request from @curlykoo for some fluffy, sweet Noya! i’m sorry I couldn’t pull off a sequel to the angsty noya fic, but I hope this makes you smile <333 thank you so much for requesting + waiting ! (my titles get cheesier every time i post lmao)

warnings: none! (legit, you’re gonna b smothered in fluff)

wc: 1500

---

“Keep your eyes covered, y/n.” Nishinoya says, leading you gently by your hand to a destination in the open air.

Midsummer nights are never chilly, but you wouldn’t have minded a small jacket or cardigan.

He’d planned for your ultimate comfort and, with your eyes still closed, envelops you in a light, fluffy blanket. He knows you well.

So you trust him and keep walking, one hand in his, the other grasping the blanket on your shoulder.

Your feet finally tap the side of a small curb, and with that he says,

“Now open!” In a nervously, excited whisper.

---

Noya exists for the purpose of adventure. To know and taste every sensation. To feel ridged mountainsides. To hunt for new experiences. Capturing every living, breathing thing in a mental photo. Documenting each distinct memory.

Novelty is forever fleeting, but some are born to find it. Again and again and again.

And that’s Nishinoya for you. Always finding, forever searching.

But for so long, he’s done it alone.

And, he supposes, alone isn’t… bad.

It’s true, there’s freedom in venturing by himself. He’s free to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases.

No one to look out for, nothing to tie him down.

Just endless journeys for him to explore.

But there’s a point when “alone” simply becomes “lonely.”

And that shift was a hard pill to swallow… because to settle down and stifle the “lonely” seemed to mean he had to lose his true love. Adventure.

Little did he know, the true adventure was about to start as you made your entrance into his life.

---

It’s Friday once again.

And Fridays are deemed exploration days by your bubble-machine of a boyfriend, Nishinoya.

Thus it makes sense that the week is incomplete, if not absolutely suffocating to him, if he hasn’t had a chance to leave your snug apartment to feel grass below his feet and the rustle of wind through his hair.

You usually give him space to go off, self-examine, and explore by himself. It’s something he’s always needed to do and it’s never gotten in the way of your relationship.

If anything it made you love him and his unique spirit even more.

However, every once in a while, he’ll want you to join him.

Tonight just happens to be one of those nights. No rhyme or reason to it.

It’s not the most unusual request, but as you asked “where to,” he refused you an answer.

Yet, the sparkle in his eye told you that he was hiding something.

Something significant.

Something special he just had to share with you.

So you let him take you by the hand, pulling you toward this secret destination.

---

“And open!”

It takes you a moment to realize where you are.

It’s exactly where you had your first date with this spiky-haired boy. The roof of the parking garage.

You fondly remember blue tongues and sugary, sweet lips from the slushies Noya had bought you back then. How he chased you after you ruffled-up his hair, letting you think you could get away, but catching up with you in no time. How when he caught you, he cupped your cheeks, staring into your eyes adoringly.

You shared many long, devoted kisses that night. Delicate touches. Conversations about passions and desires.

Since then, you’ve been attached at the hip.

Y’all rarely revisited that exact spot, deeming it a “sacred place” meant only for perfect moments and irreversible discussions and decisions. Your heart is racing.

The lot is comfortably empty, a brilliant full moon above you acting as the primary light source.

Before you are a pile of pillows and blankets, a small cluster of candles, and… of course…

Those truly iconic blue slushies.

You’re at a loss for words.

He leads you to his setup, letting you get comfortable enough to fully take in the scene.

It’s romantic.

Divine.

Unbelievably thoughtful.

For someone so carefree, you forget just how much beauty and ambiance matters to Nishinoya. Every last detail is there, pristine yet cozy. The location and atmosphere, perfect.

You break the silence,

“Noya, this is… stunning.” Your mouth hangs open slightly, in awe of the scene set before you.

That he cared so deeply for this very moment, for you, to do all of this.

“I just- I- Even the slushies!” You’re laughing, words coming out in jumbles.

So you slouch down into the pillow, legs curled into your chest, hands resting on your knees.

The stars overhead are completely outshone by your wide, sparkling eyes.

“So what’s all this for, baby? It’s not our anniversary, y’know?” You smile, genuinely curious and a little nervous.

Your usually chatty, animated boyfriend is completely silent.

He wordlessly gets down on his knees in front of you and sets his hands on top of yours.

Taking both of them into his own, he waits a minute, stroking them with his thumb.

He then takes the deepest breath he can muster,

“Y/n… all my life I’ve wanted to be free.” He starts, voice shaky.

“You know how much I love adventure...”

You nod slowly, your eyes shining as they meet his,

“and I’ve had my fair share of them.” He expresses with a smile on his lips, picturing one of those precious moments right now.

And suddenly, his words gain strength and confidence.

“But I never realized that I could feel this free. Especially not with someone else by my side.”

Your heart skips a beat.

This isn’t any old conversation anymore.

No, this pertains to you. Your relationship. Your Noya.

“Y/n… you should know, my old life pales in comparison to these past two years I’ve spent with you.” He states boldly, no longer wavering.

“Those 22 years don’t match up to the amount of life I get to share with you now.”

He can hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“You’re my adventure, y/n.” He reveals, his face warm, but heart even warmer.

And the happiest of tears are dripping down your chin, onto his hands.

“I want you to know that out of every amazing mountaintop I’ve climbed, you’re better than it’s peak.”

“Not even the bluest, clearest ocean, the steepest waterfall, or the most beautiful flower can compete with all the wonderful things I’ve experienced with you.”

He shifts and shuffles to grab something out of his pocket.

But, of course, he drops it first.

Nishinoya let’s the most comical gasp you’ve ever heard, escape his lips.

You laugh, tears falling faster, but youe smile growing so wide your face begins to hurt.

He recovers the item quickly and mentally kicks himself for ruining the vibe like the complete goof he actually is.

But it’s clear what’s going on.

It’s barely made visible by the moonlight and the subtle glimmer of candles...

but there’s a small, velvet box in the palm of his hand.

Even though you’d already begun to expect it, you can’t help put both of your hands over your mouth in shock.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need your hands back, please.” He laughs, knowing his secret is out now.

“Because, you see… I have this ring…” He pauses,

“...and I kinda want you to wear it for the rest of your life.”

He gazes at you for a moment longer, soaking in your reaction.

“Please marry me, y/n!” The words fall out his mouth in the most Noya way.

It feels just like a movie.

Where the whole world ceases to spin and gravity releases its hold on the both of you for just a moment.

Because you suddenly no longer feel anything but his touch. His gaze. His nearness.

You remove the shaky hand from your mouth and reach it out to him.

He wraps his fingers around your palm tenderly, carefully placing a simple, but beautiful diamond-studded engagement band on your ring finger.

Of course, you take a second to examine the ring... but your eyes slowly drift back to admire your real treasure.

Your eyes meet his again.

But this time, it’s not just your boyfriend.

This is your future husband.

And the pent-up energy is too much for Noya, so he moves on to what he does best:

He full-on tackles you in the biggest, most life-giving hug you’ve ever received.

You’re thrown back onto more blankets, your head guarded by his hand so it doesn’t touch the ground.

You’re both giggling and gasping for air from, the tears you just spilled leaving you breathless.

And you lay there, chest to chest, his head laying on your shoulder.

It takes a moment, but Nishinoya lets out one last sigh before shifting to lay down next to you.

In your eyes, he sees everything.

He sees endless opportunities. Countless journeys.

And he cannot wait to pursue all of it.

He does his best to express this with simple, but bold words,

“I can’t wait to explore every part of life with you.” His head tilting to face you, your fingers now interlocked with his.

Your heart is bursting, unable to contain the joy you’re experiencing…

Yet all you can say is,

“Yes… me too, Noya. I love you so much.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri

#haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #hq fanfiction #hq scenarios #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya fanfiction #nishinoya scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #sneezefiction

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The Monster’s Lair - Fangs Deep

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 9 | Chapter 10 - Fangs Deep | Chap 11 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - mourning, angst, blood thirst (again, no idea how to tag this)

Author’s note: I just reread @viking-raider‘s Fangs Deep, to get some inspo for this long fic and darn is it an absolutely wonderful world she built! Such rich characters and well-set out plot. Lovin’ every word of it! Read it if you haven’t yet!

Now. As I’ll never be able to truly build a world as rich as hers, especially not in this fic, I decided to keep it small, but invest some more words in the castle, history and surroundings in this chapter. Tiny world building ❤️

Thank you darling @thelastsock, for beta’ing for me! 🌹

Word count: 3.657

Reading music: Arvo Pärt - My Heart’s in the Highlands

(Link to my Masterlist)

A week had passed and the snow had blanketed the world until it was whisper quiet. That was, until now.

Loud bells were chiming in the chilly morning air, making the Master flinch at every beat. *Ding-ding-ding-ding* The steelish echo reached far and wide over the snow-covered tree tops, all the way up to the Master’s anguished ears, his mouth silently cursing his vampiric sensitivity.

It happened on occasion that these bells would ring, but never this long, never this hauntingly. And thus the Master had climbed up the many stairs to the highest tower so he could see what was at hand. And what he saw was quite haunting indeed; a large procession of people, standing out on the semi-rebuilt village square, their faces not joyful at all.

A mourning procession. Not uncommon now winter was in full strength and the crops had failed this year. But not often were these mourning procession this well-attended. This large. Someone had died. And not just anyone. Not even for weddings would the bells toll so long a time, their lilt echoing far and wide. It had to be an important person. Someone..someone..hmm. The Master frowned as the cogs in his old mind started to spin into motion, memories flooding his tired mind.

History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself!

‘Okay. Everyone in position!’ Lumiere conducted with his candles, the flames dancing around him as the make-shift stage was cleared, a ghostly napkin and the army of “footsoldier” wardrobes ushering aside. Belle sat up from the large reading chair when two small silhouettes appeared in the shadows cast by the large fireplace. It was difficult to decipher what they were until they hesitantly set foot on the stage, eyes blinking in the bright light. A golden hairbrush and a red leather gauntlet. Lumiere cleared his throat, introducing the two new actors on stage. ‘The Queen mother!’ - The hairbrush dipped her head. ‘And Hamlet, prince of Denmark!’ - The gauntlet turned towards Belle, whom smiled warmly. ‘Go on!’ She encouraged.

The gauntlet almost seemed to glow an even deeper shade of red as he curled a finger up to his chest, as if reaching for his heart - thanking her, before bowing to the rest of the audience. Waiting a moment for the hairbrush to also settle, the scene began, throats cleared and the room silent again.

The hairbrush dramatically swivelled ‘round, her back now turned to the audience before she slowly turned her head, bristles crisping.

‘Do not forever with thy vailèd lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust, son!’

Letting out a soft sigh - affectionate as only a mother can do, she turned to Hamlet.

‘Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die,

Passing through nature ..to eternity.’

Belle blinked, settling a little deeper in the chair to hide the sudden discomfort that graced her features. When the furniture had offered to act out this so-called ‘Hamlet’, she hadn’t expected much more than some fun diversion. Their short description of a challenged prince, ghosts and true love had sounded like a good bit of entertainment in the long hours of yet another cold day.

But here she was. Here they were, the enchanted furniture acting out a tale of great betrayal, and dead fathers.. Belle’s neckhair rose as Hamlet let out a despaired sigh - much like the one she was fighting to hold inside. Grabbing onto the arm rests she took a deep settling breath, her eyes peering at Hamlet as he burst out in an emotional monologue.

‘ “Seems,” madam? Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”

’Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

NO, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

NO, nor the dejected havior of the visage,’

He inhaled sharply, as if ready to cry, head hanging low.

‘Together with all forms, moods and shapes of grief,

That can denote me truly. These indeed “seem,”

For they are actions that a man might play;’

A glove finger reached back to his leather heart as he looked back up at the Queen mother.

‘But ‘tis no play, Mother! I have that within which passes show.

Passes the trappings and the suits of woe!’

The room went quiet, except for the crackling of the fire..and a soft sniffle. Belle quickly wiped away the tears that were burning from her watery eyes, hands hiding her torn expression from the furniture’s curious eyes. For a week now she had tried to accept her faith. Accept her father’s death. Her newly found status as an outlaw. And for a week now she had tried to hide her tears.

But no more.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Belle sniffled quietly, quickly wiping away the tears as they watered her heated cheeks, an apologetic smile glueing to her lips. ‘I didn’t..’ *sniff* ‘I didn’t mean to. Oh gods.’ More tears were bound to spill when her voice hiccuped, chest tight with sorrow.

‘Sweet Belle. Oh dear! Do not apologise.’ Hamlet broke out his role to walk up to the mournful maiden. ‘We can delay if you-’ Belle shook her head, more anguished tears bursting from her being, shoulders shaking with grief. ‘I just...Wherever I go...bad things happen.’ She removed her hands, face puffy and red now she watched Hamlet shake his fingers in disagreement. ‘No! Milady!’ He hopped up on her lap with ease, slightly shocking Belle who blinked in surprise. ‘Good things are happening where you are, Belle! Do you not see?!’ He pointed in the direction of the long hallway that led to the main staircase. ‘The Master hasn’t been so lively in years, centuries! And we are most glad to have you in our company. We are!’

The rest of the furniture hummed in agreement, but Belle was inconsolable, more tears springing to the surface. ‘I’m-I’m sorry. I can’t. I--.’ She shook her head and prince Hamlet hesitantly climbed onto the armrest as he noticed she wished to leave, her body not missing a beat as she lifted from the seat. ‘I just need a moment.’ She cried, rushing out of the library and into the long cold hallways upstairs.

A moment.

There had been a lot of moments needed in this peculiar household. Mostly by the Master. No matter how often he tried to settle down for dinner or a sociable reading session in the library - at some moment or other he felt that horrid nervousness wash over him again. At first he thought it was just hunger. Insatiable hunger. But after endless hunts it became clear it was not that. At least..he wasn’t hungry for blood. He was hungry for..hmm..dare he say it..a..a heart?

But as the Master had ventured far and wide to calm the clicking of his nervous teeth, he had too noticed something else. Something new. The wounded deer had been just the beginning. Now there were more messy kills - most animals only half-dead when he got to them. There sure must be a young predator on the loose. Peculiarly strong, fine clawed..and leaving little to no tracks. The Master couldn’t help but feel the cold chill on his skin whenever he returned to the castle; something was brooding in these forests. And it forbade little good.

In the past week or so, her foot now healed, Belle had wandered around a bit. But it was only now that she realised how truly large the building was. Even after minutes of walking, she seemed to not have reached the furthest wing, the cold licking at her bare skin as she sniffled back the last of her tears. Throughout the length of the hallway walls there were large tapestries and portraits, telling great tales of the families that once lived here. Stately portraits, hunting scenes and depictions of the build of the castle. With amazement Belle took them all in, large brown eyes also noticing that a few paintings were missing, the lighter shade on the wall leaving a lasting mark of what had once been.

History laced the dusty air here, and it took away what last tears still stuck to her eyelashes. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of Belle. Especially now she heard some sounds coming from the end of the stately hallway.

Was someone there?

With silent feet she moved closer, finding a door ajar, light slipping through the crack. Inside she noticed signs of life; clothes strewn about, a bed unmade. It piqued her curiosity even more when she recognised the clothes. The Master’s.

*CREEEEEEeeekk* The door moved.

OH merde! Shit shit shit!

The Master had apparently heard her - of course he had - his head now peeking around the corner of the door. Clearly he was a little baffled to see her here, so far away from the library or her room.

‘Belle.’

‘M-milord.’ Belle quickly curtsied, red eyes casting down at the floor.

‘Are you well?’ The door was opened further, his hand reaching out to thumb away a stray tear on her cheek.

A most endearing gesture.

Belle opened her lips to speak, but as soon as her eyes looked back up into his she lost all strings of thought. ‘I eh..’ Looking away her gaze once again fell upon the clothes that were strewn about. Quite messy a living space for someone seemingly well-put together. Never had she seen the Master in anything less but gentlemanly attire. Even now, in the privacy of his room.

‘I should go.’ She breathed, turning on her heel but finding her movement halted as his hand curled around her upper arm. ‘No please. I just didn’t expect..’ He licked his lips. ‘..a visitor. Please Belle.’ He gestured her to step inside, floorboards creaking beneath their feet. The room was cold in temperature, but warm in atmosphere. Heavy deep red drapes hung around the four poster bed and the walls were completely covered with paintings; a few portraits, but mostly landscapes or mythical depictions. And books, so many books! Stacked up nearly to hip height, their covers were showing clear signs of the many times they had been read, old leather cracked and pages curled.

‘Do come in.’ The Master slightly bent his head, stepping back to make way for Belle.

‘So..’ Belle nodded quietly, a watery smile appearing on her lips. ‘The Monster’s lair.’

‘Aye.’ He grinned.

The tension was near tangible as Belle carefully stepped over a few books, eyes taking in the great many things that were here to be seen. It was then she noticed a strangely familiar portrait. Familiar not in the straight sense of the word. In fact she trusted she had never seen it before. No. It looked familiar as in..it looked like her. With widening eyes Belle blinked at the exact representation of..her. Belle.

‘Did you paint that?’ Belle hiccupped.

The Master sighed and stepped in besides her, fingers lacing behind his back. ‘No.’

Belle felt a strange eeriness travel up her shivering spine. ‘No? Then..who..’ She swallowed harshly. ‘..what is that?’

The Master’s face contorted with pain as he turned away, eyes however remaining locked on the painting. ‘Tis my late wife.’

Of..course it was. Darn! How did Belle always get herself into such trouble?!

Belle wasn’t sure what to do next. Run? Scream? Cry out in terror? She knew that nobody would come. Nobody would care. She was here, all alone in the Monster’s Lair. And, from the looks of it...this wasn’t the end of the surprises that she’d find in these castle halls. His wife had looked like her? What’s next..? Did he think she WAS his wife, maybe? Is that why he was so strangely obsessed with her?

Then again. She was just as obsessed with him, right? For nights on end she had now watched as he fled the castle to go out, his dark silhouette returning only hours later, panting, lips tainted with fresh blood. The sight had both terrified and intrigued her. The Master intrigued her. To an almost unhealthy extent. Was she becoming a monster now, too?

‘I see.’ She whispered, eyes finding the Master’s stark blue ones as he looked over his shoulder. She could feel heat creep up her cheeks. Oh, why did she feel this way?!

‘I should have told you.’ He sighed, looking back at the painting, the portrayed woman wearing a fine red gown, dark brown hair mostly hidden beneath an early century headdress. Nothing Belle would ever wear, but she had to admit the woman looked dreamily beautiful.

And like her.

Belle licked her nervous lips, her chest suddenly unbearably tight in the restraints of her corset. ‘Is ..is that why I’m here? I mean. Nobody has been here for centuries and now-now I’m..I…’ Her eyes started to tear up with fright. But not for him. No. It was in fact more of a quiet hatred towards herself. SHE was the one who ventured into HIS domains. SHE had called this upon herself.

‘Tis part of the curse.’ The Master said benevolently.

‘So..then I am cursed as well.’ Belle sniffled, gladly accepting the kerchief the Master handed to her, his large frame now fully turning back towards her, eyes gentle. ‘In a way.’

Lingering their eyes met, two souls captured in a dance they didn’t know. But though the steps were unknown, their hearts were more than willing to learn. Why were they feeling this way? They had barely talked to one another except on the few occasions that the Master had ventured into the library or Belle’s room. And despite Belle’s best efforts, he would flee every single time. As if he was afraid of her. Hurt by her presence.

Was it because she looked like…?

Belle took a shaky breath, eyes studying every little detail of the portrait as it looked back at her. Calm. Serene. Though also slightly melancholic. ‘Was she cursed as well?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Belle huffed. ‘Then why does she look exactly..like me?’

The Master grimaced, his hand gesturing towards a divan. ‘I think you may wish to sit down. A-are you cold? Shall I..’ He bit his lip as he noticed the true mess he had made of his room; clothes strewn everywhere. What an impression he was giving her! His father would have scolded… No. Do not think so. Father is dead. And it’s time to own up to your responsibilities!

With large steps he strode to his wardrobe, its door magically flying open as he clicked his tongue. ‘A..robe, perhaps?’ He looked back at Belle as she sat down on the worn bench, fabric matching the heavy velvet drapes. ‘Eh..ye-yes please. Thank you.’

And so, now warmly wrapped in a heavy robe of luxurious brocades - worthy a land owner of great riches -, Belle learned the history of not only the Master’s wife, but also hers. The Master spoke of the start of the curse, which probably came with the death of his wife. Or, perhaps it had been the Fay witch Morgana, he couldn’t be sure. But either way; the tale was greater than any book Belle had ever read.

Fairy witches, rich lords, poor women, curses and deceit. Forbidden love or no love at all - claimed either way. With surprising richness in his words, the Master spoke, his countenance relaxed as he retrieved details of times long past. He was a good storyteller. Quite surprisingly so, especially after the long nights where he had barely spoken a word. Belle’s eyes did not once venture away from the man as he paced up and down the room, enacting the moments as they had happened.

He was truly in his element.

With gestures at a few of the portraits, he spoke of the curious way the women in her family would always have girls. Procreating yet another generation of young women to carry the curse on and on. And on..and on. From the Master’s sister in law begetting twins, to her mother...giving birth to her. And strange as it was, all women in her family somehow carried the same traits. Dark-haired and bright, they captured the hearts of a Le Comte more than a few times. And quite a few times they had refused a Le Comte’s advances. And even more than a few times a Le Comte took what he wanted anyways, thereby carrying on the curse - him turning into a vampire and the woman not dying long after.

‘But I have no sister. Or nieces..I think.’ Belle added thoughtfully when the Master got to the tale of the here and now.

‘That we don’t know, Belle. A few women have sent off their daughters, in hope to break away from this curse. Not all successfully, I’m afraid. But still. I fear it does not end here.’

‘But you do want it to end?’

‘I am the one who started it, Belle. I am not one to want anything more than for this to stop. I have caused..’ He looked back at his late wife’s portrait. ‘..great agony. I carry the blame.’

‘No..no..do not say so milord. Is it not that a great many men after you have chosen the exact same faith?’ The Master looked back, eyes thoughtful as Belle stood from the bench. ‘They have. But perhaps..that is the curse too. Poisoning their minds.’

‘Where are those that turned to vampires like you?’

Good question.

‘Dead. For as far as I know, they are all dead. They were too eager, too contemptful. You see, Belle, we can be killed like any man. Especially when the daylight is strong and our strengths wane.’

‘Have they ever tried to kill you?’

The Master lowered his head, a melancholic smile brushing over his lips. It was a silent “yes” to a question he knew she’d ask at some point or other. ‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Belle.’ The Master brushed a hand up over her sleeved arm, eyes meeting hers. He didn’t wish to speak any further on the matter, that much was clear. Belle licked her lips. And the Master brushed his hand further down her arm, capturing her hand before pressing a fanged kiss on her soft skin. Even through his lips she could feel his vampiric canines.

Oh he sure was fascinating as ever.

‘What happens if you bite?’ He stretched back up to full height. ‘Hmm..Either I’d kill you, or..’ He frowned, ‘..you’d become like me. I think.’

‘Unless I love you first.’ Belle said with certainty in her gentle voice, slightly unsettling the Master before her, his hand clenching her fingers more tightly. And Belle? She squeezed back.

‘That is why you were cursed, right?’ The Master remained quiet. ‘For love.’ Belle quirked her head to the side, searching his gaze. He seemed pained, unsure. Scared even.

‘Would you love me?’ He asked, his voice far less honey-rich now uncertainty cracked through its vibration. The Master suddenly seemed so small, fragile, agonized. But Belle didn’t know about the turmoil in his head; first he had forced her to stay here, then her father died, it..no..it could never be. He was still evil! He.. He should have never asked -

‘I could.’

---

How could two words change things? It was a question that kept the Master up through the late nights and long days. Knowing now that he craved not food, but something else. Love? Maybe. Either way, he remained within the castle walls. And with even more fervour he tried to get into the good graces of Belle. A daily routine was set where the Master would join Belle for tea, luncheon, supper and on occasion a moment of dialogue or other diversions in the library. With his stocks well-filled he made sure she would only receive the best. The most fragrant tea, the most succulent meats and the most well-spiced vegetables and stews.

Only the best.

But not for himself. As the sleepless days prolonged, so did his face, his already pale skin becoming near opaque, blue veins thin beneath his skin. Belle had tried to not worry as she knew little of his condition, but as the days progressed, she knew something was amiss. Was he starving himself?

‘You must eat.’ She finally said, her resolute voice travelling over the dinner table where the Master sat with no meal or wine before him. He huffed and waved it off, but Belle persevered, not accepting his grumbling “don’t be silly”. And, thankfully, the Master held a soft spot for the maiden, her voice of reason soon echoing in his skull until he couldn’t help but agree.

He needed to feed again.

As dinner finished and Belle’s plates and cups hopped off the table with elegant leaps - quite magical indeed -, she noticed the shimmer in the Master’s eyes.

He was going to flee again. She knew him by now.

And just as expected, he got up quickly, feet moving towards the door, though not making it far. Belle had grasped onto his arm, fingers locking around his fleshy forearm as he tried to tug himself free.

‘No.’

‘Have you not told me that I required nourishment?’ A beautiful frown crossed his dark eyebrows.

‘I did.’ Belle licked her lips, still glistening from her delicious meal. ‘Take me with you... I want to see.’

The Master gruntled a low disapproval; had the maiden gone mad?! But Belle was headstrong, and her curiosity always won. And so, after a few long moments of Belle holding onto his wrist and the Master gazing coldly back at her, he caved. He was too easy on her, wasn’t he? And in this quick turn of events, he forgot for just a moment what challenges this little adventure would bring.

And what deliciously hard challenges they would be.

Chap 11 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #vampire!henry #beauty and the beast au #long fic #angst #adult fairytale #the monster's lair #fangs deep

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anamikaa · 4 years ago

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Beatrix Kuroki and Miriam Brooks: Bad Guys

This story is a second part of a round robin story. Its part 1 'Absent Friend' was posted by @kino-indiana . You can reblog with your own addition or you can check out @kino-indiana for more round robin stories.

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Miriam woke up to a buzzing sound of an alarm clock. The bedside clock showed the time 7:00 am. She could probably get an extra hour of sleep, since her school had been suspended for two more days for the death of a fellow student, but she chose not to. After a shower and a breakfast, she decided to call that girl Beatrix.

Last night, when Beatrix came up and offered help, all she could feel was relief. But thinking back with a clear mind, it seemed a little reckless to trust a complete stranger with a matter as grave as murder. On the flip side, Beatrix could provide her with some vital information that could help her investigation. Hopefully, it’s something concrete enough to convince the others of Stillman’s murder. Shoving all her doubts in a metaphorical box Miriam finally hit the call button on her phone.

Beatrix Kuroki was on her fourth cup of coffee of that morning when her phone started ringing. Without looking at the contact name, she knew it was the girl from the last night, Miriam. Subconsciously, her fingers tightened around the half-empty coffee mug. The uneasy feeling in her gut multiplied tenfold with an intense urge to run and hide somewhere. And she would have done just that, if it could solve her problem. A boy was dead. It’s not something she could forget with a good night’s sleep.

Beatrix answered the phone on the third ring. Which irked Miriam a little. They decided to meet at Park Prakriti, around two miles away from her house, in fifteen minutes. Her mother was already out for work. So Miriam grabbed her cell phone and house keys, locked the doors and headed out.

She found Beatrix standing at the gate of the park, staring blankly at the clock tower of Kino Temple, that could be visible from any other part of the town. “Hey! Beatrix!” Miriam shouted when she was close enough. Beatrix turned and waived with a nervous smile. She was wearing a loose white t-shirt and a leopard print jeans, her jet black hair put in a messy bun.

The park was mostly deserted except for a group of six to eight-year-olds playing tag. Their shouts disrupting the silence of the place like stones thrown in stagnant water. The girls settled on a bench, far in a corner, that was designed to look like a half cut tree log.

“I’m sorry about your friend.” Beatrix started.

“Me too.” Miriam replied.

Beatrix glanced back at the children. Her mind was still debating if going back there would be a good idea. What if she’s only endangering another life.

To Miriam, Beatrix seemed even more anxious than the night before. But that’s kind of normal assuming your daily activity doesn’t involve investigating the murders of your classmates.

“So coming to the point, why do you think Cealan Stillman was murdered?” questioned Beatrix, as she turned to face her.

“You tell me, Beatrix. Why do you think Stillman was murdered? As far as I know, Stillman didn’t have any friends in school. Hell, I have scarcely seen him interact with anyone outside the detective career track. And the fact that you call him by his full name doesn’t help the case. So what reason do you have to believe that he was murdered?”

The look on Beatrix’s face faltered. It was enough for Miriam to realise that she had messed up. The art of subtlety was not one of her many talents. But still, she could have made an effort to make it sound less like an interrogation.

“Look, let’s not make it harder than it needs to be. You can be honest with me right now and I promise, I’ll do the same. And if you don’t want to be a part of it then that’s okay too. What do you say?” Miriam further added hoping her voice sounded amiable.

“No. I want to be involved. And you’re right. We need to be honest with each other.” After a brief thoughtful pause, Beatrix declared, “There’s something you need to see. Come with me.” With that she jumped to her feet, not waiting for any answer from the girl next to her.

After five minutes of walking in suspenseful silence, they were back at the place of their first interaction. Miriam followed Beatrix as she made her way around the towering headstones. Kino Cemetery was a work of art, forbidding and attractive in its own way, even more so in daylight when you can see the misty forest behind the burial ground. Beatrix suddenly stopped, causing Miriam to knock into her back. Her gaze glued to the grave of the boy who recently died.

“Don’t tell me we are here to dig up Stillman’s grave” Miriam spoke up, her tone suggesting she wouldn’t be much opposed to the idea.

“What? No. Why would you say that?”

“Hey! You’re the one who’s acting all mysterious and brought me to see his grave. What am I supposed to think?”

“Well, I see your point but this is not what I wanted to show you.” Beatrix moved away from the grave. “For that we have to go into the woods.” She said, looking Miriam in the eye, as she tried to gauge her reaction. The townsfolk usually never ventured into the forest. Rumours surround it, lots of it, including being inhibited by some tribe that didn’t like being disturbed and being hunted by the spirits of witches, keeping it away from people. Even the rebellious teenagers left it alone. How convenient for them.

The expression on Miriam’s face was not one of wariness, as Beatrix had expected, but of a curious anticipation. Though, she never believed in those over imaginative theories, Miriam always knew there’s something off about the forest; like the untimely deaths of people working in the cemetery. All from natural causes. Nothing suspicious. But she knows how to connect the dots. And despite what Ryan Murphy says, her gut feeling is never wrong.

For Miriam, going into the forest felt like walking into another world. The fog was thick, so much that it was getting harder to see where the trees stood. But Beatrix seemed to know her way around. As they went deeper, the fog started thinning out too, and they could see more clearly. Ironically, it made Miriam feel more vulnerable like a blanket of protection was stripped away from her.

“Don’t make any noise and stay with me.” Whispered Beatrix, to which she could only nod. She refrained from commenting on the fact that Beatrix appeared more nervous than her. Miriam strained her eyes and ears in an attempt to stay alert. Still and all, nothing could be heard other than their light footsteps and the occasional chirp of birds or insects. The trees around them stood tall and uptight as if too proud of their primeval heritage to look down on two feeble animals. Suddenly, Miriam felt her feet fly out beneath her as she landed on the dirty, mouldy ground of the forest, staring up at the sky. She could feel something wet and squishy under from where her left hand was perched as she was trying to brace her fall. Reluctantly, she turned her head to find a dead raccoon-like animal halfway through decomposition with half of his organs outside his body. A loud screech, Miriam never knew she was capable of, escaped her lips. Beatrix was quick to cover her mouth reminding her to keep quiet. Miriam’s hands quivered with a chilling sensation. She didn't even have a minute to calm herself as they heard a series of footsteps echoing through the forest. Before she could make sense of what’s going on, Beatrix dragged her to a nearby bush that was entangled with vines making it a good hiding spot. Through the gapes, they could see men wearing black uniform pants and black t-shirts with face covered in ski masks, some with guns, some not, running around. 'They are searching for us.' Miriam thought to herself. She tried to calm her nerves, to come up with something that could help, but her brain drew a blank.

They sat there with bated breath, curled in a ball, trying not to make a sound. It felt like an eternity until they couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore. Miriam emerged first to make sure that no-one’s around. Dry leaves and branches were tangled in her curly brown locks. She walked a bit further from their spot to see if anyone’s hiding behind the trees. All of a sudden, a hand clasped her face and someone was dragging her back. Miriam tried to kick and elbow the person but soon she was backed into a tree with the guy pressed against her, blocking her escape. From his attire, it was clear that he’s one of them. Miriam could feel the butt of his gun against her stomach. She just hoped to God Beatrix would stay where she was. In another attempt to free herself, Miriam pulled his head with her free hand and banged it on the tree.

“Ow! Fuck!” He groaned in pain, momentarily losing his hold and giving her the perfect chance to escape. But something froze Miriam in her place. The voice behind the mask was one she knew too well. Impulsively, she peeled off the mask only to find a familiar brown eyed boy staring back at her.

“Look, I can explain. I’m not the bad guy here, I prom-Ow!! Jesus Christ!”

Before Patel could elaborate, he was hit with a heavy rock on his head above his left ear. Beatrix, who had succeeded in both sneaking up on them and injuring the man in question, was standing there with a perplexed expression, staring at a groaning Colin Patel, who was lying on the ground showcasing his very colourful vocabulary.

“I really thought he was the bad guy here.” Beatrix said when she caught Miriam’s eye.

#writers #writblr #writing challenge #round robin story #original writing #free write #writers on tumblr #writeaway

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serasvictoria · 4 years ago

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Hoya kerrii

So me and @basilone have a shared headcanon that Chuck loves gardening and somewhere in between that and me watching a couple of episodes of Gardener's World that I had DVR'ed, I somehow ended up with another AU.

In this one Chuck basically ended up with a tv show at one point or another and since Tab is his publicist, I'd like to think that he played a very active role in making that happen. While Chuck is out in a garden center one day, he runs into someone that has no idea who he is and that needs his help making a particularly tough decision which is where this particular story starts.

“How do I improve my soil?”

“When should I plant out my tomatoes?”

“How do you prune your roses?”

“What flowers work best in a shaded garden?”

Chuck kept smiling and politely answered every single question that he got. He had long since learned that it was the best way to treat the attention that he inevitably got. All that people wanted was advice and sometimes a picture or an autograph, that was about it. As long as he made sure that everyone got an equal amount of time, they would simply fan out and leave him be. Sure, he’d still get stares and the occasional “Isn’t that…?” but people generally left him alone after a while.

It took about ten minutes for the small crowd to disperse. In the end the only one left was a very animated older lady who was very eager to talk to him. She spoke an equal amount about how she applied his advice to her garden and about her single granddaughter who was apparently around his age. He didn’t inquire any further about the latter. He’d heard that kind of thing many times before and ignoring those kinds of offers always worked for the best. At the start of his career, he hadn’t wanted to be impolite so he had ended up with many hastily scribbled phone numbers that he never did anything with. It was all far too embarrassing if you asked him. When he hadn’t commented on the granddaughter even after he had been shown her picture (cute, but not his type), the woman eventually took the hint, thanked him for his time and left him to his own devices.

He walked towards the plants, which had been his main objective after all, and checked out what they had on offer. He needed new ideas so he was on the lookout for something that he could write or talk about. New trends such as colours or decor, that sort of thing. And then there were the continuing improvements to his own outdoor space. Whenever he walked through his garden in the early morning hours, he usually managed to find some tiny little corner that he wasn’t completely satisfied with or plants that simply hadn’t thrived. There was always some kind of project to keep him occupied, which was exactly how he liked it.

From the corner of his eye he could see that a young woman was looking at him and he was already mentally preparing himself for questions about which plants would compliment each other or which seeds worked best in which soil. The usual. It took her another minute to finally approach him and he produced the most friendly smile that he could muster, but when she finally opened her mouth, he realised that she hadn’t recognised him at all.

“Excuse me,” she began and the first thing that he noticed was her pink sparkly lipgloss when she talked. “Can you help me?”

“Um.” Oh. She thinks I work here. “Sure thing. What do you need help with?”

“I’m a bit out of my depth I’m afraid.” She smiled apologetically as her eyes darted from plant to plant. “I don’t know anything about plants.”

“Well, you’ve asked the right person.” He couldn’t help but smile at himself over that particular comment. “Garden? Balcony?”

“Apartment.”

“Flowers or green?”

“Green.”

“See? We’re getting somewhere.” She started laughing and didn’t look quite so nervous anymore. “Follow me.”

When they walked over to the section where the green house plants were, he took another chance to look at her. Her dark hair was short and messy and he couldn’t quite figure out whether the messiness was accidental or intentional. She was wearing a denim jacket that was emblazoned with various pins (the one that instantly stood out was one that said “send nudes”). Her jeans stood out because of the various flecks of paint on them, same as the Converse sneakers that she wore. Her tote bag declared that “art makes everything awesome” and that, paired with the paint, made it pretty obvious what she did when she wasn’t hanging around in gardening centers. Another thing that he noticed was that every time that she took a sip of her water bottle, he caught glimpses of her stomach, because her faded black shirt kept riding up.

“I take it you want something that’s easy to look after?”

“Yes. The last plant that I had was a cactus when I was a teenager,” she cringed visibly, so whatever was going to come next probably wasn’t good. “I thought it was doing really well. Flowered and everything. And then one day when I tried to move it, the top just snapped off.”

“Snapped off?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what happened.”

“Probably overwatered it.” It was a very common problem. People either gave a cactus too much water or not enough water. “So no cactus this time.”

“Oh god no. The cactus incident has left me traumatised.”

“Nightmares?” She started giggling. “About cacti hunting you down to avenge their fallen friend?”

“Something like that.”

“I hate it when that happens.” He nudged his elbow against her arm in a gesture that was probably a bit too familiar, but she didn’t comment on it. He merely got a smile in return. “Wasn’t your fault. To put it simply, you just loved that plant to death.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Sadly, they haven’t invented a plant that can’t be killed yet and if they did, they certainly haven’t told me about it,” he said as he pointed out a few plants to her. “But these don’t need a lot of water so maybe they’re your best bet.”

“Which one would you go for?”

“Hmm. Rubber plants are nice,” he pointed one out to her, “But they can get quite big and I don’t know how big your apartment is.”

“I don’t really fancy ending up with something that’s as massive as a giant redwood tree.”

“And what if I were to guarantee you that they won’t get that big when they’re houseplants?”

“You’ve already put me off them now. You could just be trying to sell me a plant that gets massive just because I know jackshit about them.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he replied with a laugh. “That would just be cruel.”

“But I don’t know that, do I?”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.” His eyes fell on a snake plant. “Any pets?”

“A cat.”

“Me too,” he said cheerily. “So no snake plant then.”

“Will it constrict the cat?”

“Not that kind of plant. They’re toxic to dogs and cats.”

“What about that one?” His eyes followed her finger to a small rather unassuming plant. “It’s cute.”

“Hoya Kerrii.” He picked one up and held it up in front of her. “Sweetheart plant. Some people give them to loved ones at Valentines and paint messages on them.”

“Tacky,” she wrinkled her nose at that particular piece of information, obviously not agreeing with that at all. “It’s adorable. Is that one easy to take care of?”

“Very. It likes the sunshine and you water it when the soil goes dry, but don’t let it stand in water. They don’t like that.”

“Sounds like my kind of plant.” He could hear the excitement in her voice. “Which one would you buy?”

“Let me see.”

He looked at the various plants and tried to pick out the one that looked best in his opinion. He felt her eyes on him which made him want to try harder for some reason, already wanting to impress her even if he barely knew her. When he had finally selected one, he picked it up and upon turning to hand it to her, he noticed that she was looking at something else entirely. When he followed her eyes, he saw that she was looking at a genuine store employee. They were quite easy to spot because of their green and yellow uniforms and their big name tags which were quite noticeable. So she’d finally figured it out. When he looked back at her, he noticed that her eyes were focused on his chest and his missing name tag. Her cheeks flushed pink when she noticed that his eyes were on her, because he had quite obviously seen that she had been looking straight at his chest.

“You…” Her voice was hushed and the embarrassment was quite plain to see on her face. “You don’t work here.”

“No.” He leaned in somewhat conspiratorially and with a low voice added, “I don’t.”

Before he got a chance to make light of the situation, to say that he didn’t mind that she had mistaken him for a store employee and that he had genuinely enjoyed helping her. The plan had been that when the slight uneasiness from her side had ended, he could offer to buy her a drink or something like that. That had been the idea anyway right before he heard a voice behind him.

“Jesus Christ. We’re supposed to be here for work and you’re using it to hit on women.”

“Tab.” He straightened himself out and turned to face his friend, his entire expression spelling out that he was busy, but that wasn’t going to deter Tab one bit. “I was helping this young lady out…”

“Sure you were. You like helping the ladies, don’t you Chuck?” Tab flashed the absolutely bewildered woman one of his winning smiles. “Can’t help yourself. So just ask her for her number and then we can go.”

“Fuck, Tab. Really?” Chuck turned back to her with an apologetic look on his face. So now she probably thought that he came to places like this just so he could pick up women. Great. “I’m so sorry about my friend. He’s being a complete dick as usual. Literally can’t help himself.”

“I um… I won’t interrupt you any further. Sorry to bother you.” She turned to leave and he cleared his throat which made her turn her head back in his direction. “Yes?”

“You forgot this.” He held out the plant, that she had seemingly forgotten in her eagerness to get away from him. “Hope it does well with you, but I have no doubt that it will.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She took it from him and added a quick, “Would have been a shame if I forgot all about this little guy.” There was something almost reverential in how she handled the plant, as if it were to die on her if she didn’t treat it with respect which Chuck found incredibly endearing. “Little thing,” she murmured those words exclusively to the plant with a smile, but Chuck was standing so close that he could hear everything. “You’re coming home with me.”

“Miss?” He had to ask this now before she left. “You know, maybe I should give you my number so you can send me some pictures.” He moved to stand in front of Tab, completely blocking him out of her line of vision. Because he knew Tab. He’d probably pull a face or make some choice remarks about seeing this scene play out right in front of him. “Of the plant. Obviously.” To his relief, she instantly reached a hand into her pocket and produced her mobile. “Great!” He mentally slapped himself for sounding a little bit too enthusiastic and he knew that Tab would never let him forget about this. “I mean… I’ll just…”

He grabbed his phone as well and they exchanged numbers, tapping them into their devices as the other called out the digits. She looked up at him, a bit unsure over the next question that she was going to ask and said, “What should I… I mean, your name…”

Tab laughed and Chuck could see the confusion lining her face when she looked around him so she could look at Tab. His friend pointed towards the wall. When she noticed what was hanging there, her cheeks turned about as red as a tomato, because there was an advertisement on the wall for Chuck's latest book that was pretty hard not to miss. Chuck ran his hand down his face and groaned inwardly when he saw the poster with himself on it staring right back at him.

“Oh fuck.” She tapped on her screen again and it took her a few times to spell his name right since she was so nervous. “I swear I didn’t know that you were famous or anything…”

“It’s okay. Not like I’m Tom Hanks or anything.”

“You might as well be to people that are into gardening.” She’d obviously noticed the “best selling author” bit on the poster.

“I guess,” he said with a shrug. “And you? What should I call you? It would be a bit weird if I listed you as ‘sweetheart plant girl’, right?”

“Cat,” she blurted out suddenly. “My name’s Cat.”

“Chuck.” He held his free hand out to her when she had put her phone away. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You too.” Cat took his hand and hazarded a glance back up at his face with a slight smile playing on her lips. “I um… it sounded like you were busy, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Not that busy. My friend’s just being an asshole.” He heard Tab huff in protest, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge his presence just yet. Upon looking down, he only seemed to realise that he was still holding her hand when she gave him a slight squeeze. In a move that was probably entirely alien for most men but one that made perfect sense to him, he dipped his head down, brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Looking up at her through his eyelashes, he said, “You have a very nice day, Cat.”

“I’m sure I will,” she replied with a slightly nervous giggle. “Bye.”

She was barely even out of hearing range before Tab said, “You just can’t help yourself.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I’ll have you know that I wasn’t chatting up women for once.” Chuck snorted derisively in reply. “It’s true! Anyway, she’s your type so I get it.”

“No, she isn’t.” Tab barked a laugh and Chuck turned around to look at him. “Oh come on. Since you’re such an expert, what’s my type?”

“You know,” his friend waved his hand in front of him as if that explained anything. “Vaguely artsy.”

“Artsy? That’s not a thing!”

“Yeah, it is. It’s your thing, that’s what it is.” Chuck took a swipe at him and Tab stepped back, just out of his reach. “Okay, alternative then.” “Since when?”

“Since college! As long as they wore shirts of vague bands, you were into them. And need I remind you that you dated that goth chick.”

For as long as Chuck could remember Tab had teased him about his preferences in women. Chuck was widely considered to have a very positive and sunny personality so whenever he introduced his latest girlfriend, who was usually dressed head to toe in black, people were always understandably taken aback.

“She was not a goth.”

“Chuck, her eyes were so black, she looked like a fucking raccoon.” Chuck rolled his eyes even though he couldn’t deny it. “I had to listen to her ramble on and on about how she was convinced that Robert Smith was God every time that she was stoned. She was awful.”

“She was alright.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty sure that you only liked her because of those tight leather pants she always wore and because her bottom lip was pierced. I know you. You were probably wondering if she had more of those on parts of her body that you couldn’t see.” Chuck shook his head with a laugh. It had definitely been one of the reasons why he was interested in her. “And you never told me if she had any other ones.”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Fuck off.” Tab jerked his head towards the exit and patted the breast pocket of his dark blue button down shirt, indicating that he needed a smoke. “You’re a naughty boy, Chuck. If only those bored suburban housewives knew about that.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Don’t you bullshit me. I just caught you putting the moves on some poor unsuspecting woman.” Tab knocked his shoulder against Chuck’s. “Maybe you should send her one of those pictures I keep posting on your Instagram.”

“One of those… what do you call them again?”

“Thirst traps.”

“Yeah, those. Ridiculous things.” Tab always took pictures when Chuck wasn’t looking. When he’d just wiped a dirt caked hand on his shirt or something like that, because apparently that was what women wanted to see. “Just ‘cause you send pictures to women with your shirt off doesn’t mean I have to.”

“They work a fucking charm. I’m just saying.” Several eyes were on them as they finally made their way outside with Tab leaning into a group of young women to whisper “Yes, it is him” which made some of them squeal with delight.

“Wish you’d stop doing that.”

“Fuck you. Helps sell the brand.”

“Just me walking by helps sell stuff?”

“DVDs, books, calendars, gardening tools… you name it, baby, and I’ll fucking sell it. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Don’t make me regret my stupid decisions now.”

“Whatever.” When they’d reached Tab’s car, he leaned against it while he smoked his cigarette. “You do what you love. What could be better than that? So what if I post a couple of pictures of your big dumb face when you’re repotting a plant. Chicks love that shit. Millions of ‘em follow you on Instagram for that crap.”

“Yeah well, I can still think that it’s weird, right?” Chuck dropped what remained of his cigarette on the tarmac and ground his boot down on it. “Besides, she had absolutely no fucking idea who the hell I was. It was refreshing.”

“I’m sure it was.” Tab flicked his cigarette away, unlocked the car and got in. “All those women throwing themselves at you and trying to fuck you all the time. Must be exhausting.”

“You’re exhausting,” Chuck retorted when he got in on the passenger side. “It’s not like I have a different girl in my bed every night. I’m not like you.”

“Trust me, I am well aware of that.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed back to Chuck’s place so they could get back to work. “So. When are you going to send this girl a text then?”

“Don’t know yet.” Chuck didn’t really know what was acceptable in regards to that. He didn’t want to do it too soon and he didn’t want to wait too long either. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah right. You’ll send her a text the minute I’m not looking.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You almost jumped through the damn roof when she agreed to exchange numbers with you.” Before Chuck got a chance to disagree with that statement, Tab poked a finger into his side. “Sometimes I get the impression that you never talk to women at all. You need to play hard to get, dude. Not act like an overexcited puppy. Which is basically what you are anyway. A goddamn labrador.”

“The fuck! Am not.” Chuck knocked Tab’s finger away and laughed. “Just because you’re a silver tongued bastard doesn’t mean I have to be.”

“Do me a favour. If this girl doesn’t text you first, wait until tomorrow evening or something. Please. For the love of god.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and keep driving.”

“Chuck, promise me.”

“Okay, dad! Jesus Christ. I promise.”

“Give it to me.” Tab held his hand out and Chuck sighed deeply before handing over his phone. “I’m hanging onto this, because I know you, Grant. You can’t fucking help yourself. You’ll be texting her within the hour to let her know what a great time you had or some dumb shit like that.”

“I just promised you that I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah and then as soon as we get to your house, you’ll tell me that you need a piss and then you’ll text her from the bathroom. Not fucking happening. Not on my watch.” He stuck the mobile in his pocket and wagged his finger at him. “And you’re not getting it back until I leave. Alright?”

“You’ve made your point.” Chuck folded his arms and stared out the window. “You do realise that I’m an adult, right?”

“You can’t be trusted. No self control.” Tab reached over and patted his shoulder. “It’s okay though. That’s why you have me.”

“Scariest part is that you’re supposed to work for me.”

“Which is what I’m doing now.”

“Taking my phone is your job now?”

“It is on this particular occasion,” he replied with a big grin. “Anway! We were there for work! Did you get any ideas or were you too busy staring into that girl’s big brown eyes?”

“I got plenty of ideas. Trust me.”

“Good. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can have your phone back. Deal?” Tab held his hand out to Chuck which he shook almost instantly. “See, I’m not such a bad guy after all now, am I?”

“You’re an asshole, Tab.”

“You know you love me.” They finally pulled into the driveway and when they walked up to the front door, he still felt the need to add, “So stop thinking about that girl’s ass and the things you’d like to do to it for five seconds and focus on your job.”

“Tab, I swear to god, if you don’t give it a rest…”

As soon as he opened the door, Tab slapped the back of Chuck’s head and before he managed to do anything back, Tab had already disappeared into the house. He fought the urge to tackle him and instead leisurely followed him in, fully determined by now to end this as soon as possible so he could get his damn phone back. He followed Tab out into the kitchen and naturally two bottles of beer had already been produced. Tab was just about to open them when Chuck heard a pinging noise that he recognised all too well.

“Give it to me.”

“Jesus Christ, you are desperate.” Tab dug the mobile out of his pocket and frowned when he looked down at the screen. “Fuck’s sake. This had better not be a picture of a goddamn plant.” He held the phone out to him and when Chuck reached for it, he pulled his hand away. “On second thought, I’d better look at the picture first. Wouldn’t want you to get a heart attack if she actually sent you a selfie of herself in her underwear.”

“Come on, man.”

Tab rolled his eyes and handed it back to him without paying him anymore attention. Chuck swiped his thumb over the screen and looked at what she’d sent him. It was a picture of the small plant standing on what he assumed was the windowsill surrounded by painting materials and other items. The accompanying message read “Too much sun?” and he couldn’t help but grin to himself when he saw it.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.”

Chuck texted back a split second later with a “Not at all. Looks fine to me.” He waited about another minute before sending another quick “You free tomorrow?” He saw the tell tale sign that she was typing back not too long after and his face lit up when he saw what she had sent back.

“I am. What did you have in mind?”

#band of brothers au #chuck grant #floyd talbert #catherine taylor #my fic

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

Text

99 Problems (Favored Ones, Part 8.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Part Summary: Waking up after a perfect night always seems to be so rough. What should you think? What should tell? And how the fuck were you supposed to behave in front of the man... And the others?

A/N: Oh no, we’re in the part when we’re finally starting the countdown until Abby arrives in town. And the song is about the aftermath of the nasty fucking things you and Joel were doing. 99 Problems inspired the first half of the chapter and a song named Hell and You (by Amigo the Devil) had inspired the rest.

Warnings: None other than half of the characters being confused as usual and smut at the end.

Word count: 5.6 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme @peakymarvels @davnwillcome @pickleriiick @jodiereedus22 @gladiosamicitias @tamkashi @eternallyvenus @avengerssstuff @fangirl-inthe-us

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Fall of 2037, five months before the incident:

In the morning, it was barely morning, your eyes just shot open. The night was still behind the windows, the light was slowly lurking in. Jesus, you couldn't tell what is hurting more - if it was your goddamn head or your fucking thighs. Just when you were about to climb from the bed you realized, that it isn't your house and that someone has their hand over your waist.

Oh, Lord. Slowly, the things which happened last night... All the words which were said and all the things that were done... Were coming to your head and suddenly, you could see each moment vividly. You've done it. You've fucked with Joel Miller. Joel was still sleeping pretty deeply, which made you act fact - withing few minutes, you were all dressed up and sneaking out of the house to run to your home.

Sure, you've fantasized about having him exactly as you had him, yet the realization was making you dizzy and ashamed, to be honest. He still was Ellie's dad, for fuck's sake. If she would get to know... Fuck you then, you were a dead man for her. The funniest part was yet to come. Sure, lessons with Joel were far gone because of the fucking weather, just like the classes, but the patrol you were about to have with Ellie was about to be interesting. The things you were doing with Joel felt completely right, you wouldn't have it any other way, but in the perspective of the situation around it? Jesus.

You were asking yourself questions the whole time you were packing your things for the patrol - how you and Joel were planning to make this fuckery work anyway? You'd always come late in the night, leaving when everything's done or early in the morning so no-one would see you? How would you know that you can come to him that day? You'll just knock on his door, asking 'Joel, wassup? Wanna hook up today?'. Yeah, sure, you could see yourself asking him. And most importantly, what if it was just the result of all these emotions brewing and going boom inside of you? What if he wouldn't want to do that emotionally sober? There was this one question going through your head quite a lot: what the fuck have you done?

On the other hand, when the man woke up just minutes after you left, he shouldn't be surprised to find the house empty - but it still caught him off-guard. So, were you trying to tell him something with disappearing into the thin air without a word, a note, anything, weren't you? Well, it was an experiment which went exactly as he assumed - you weren't into someone like him. You were too young and you thought that you were sure about wanting him, just to realize that it was a mistake. So much for not being alone, at least in some way, right?

But it made him think about some things Joel already thought are buried deep inside of him. Those demons which he hadn't heard of in years. He didn't hear these inside his head ever since he and Ellie moved into Jackson. These thoughts were concerning Tess. And a lot about her. It was no mystery that he and she had something together. It was just because of the physical release, sure, but it was something. It started one night, it came out of nowhere. They were already partners at the time, this was just a friendly help as Tess would say. But truth be told, Joel never believed anyone enough after Tess to end up in bed with them.

You were the first one in five years. The first one to even show some interest in him. And the first one who didn't seem to be enough of a bitch to stab him in the back. Well, these things happen and it didn't exactly go according to the plan.

It was strange to meet you in the city almost every other day. Sometimes, you were there with Ellie, sometimes with other friends. And you never spared him a look, you never stopped for a few words just like he always did before. When meetings were happening, you made sure that you sit somewhere where he couldn't see you, so it wouldn't be possible to make any kind od eye-contact with you. You felt scared just because of the though Joel speaking to you. The whole of September went like that. And when November had started, the tension felt so strong that even others had noticed.

"I thought that you and Joel are on the good note now." - Ellie asked one night when you stopped by to play some video games and to have a sleepover after a busy week when you were shifted to help with the animals. Both of you were dressed in old, comfy sweats and drank some beer while playing Ellie was winning since she had the damn console at home, but you had a ton of fun nonetheless. Well, until this question.

"What?" - You asked with a chuckle, opening a package of sweets you got from Seth. It was something called donuts or so and it was fucking delicious.

"Nothing. He just looks so fucking butthurt when you're around, I just noticed yesterday. Tommy was trying to talk to him when you were sitting ar the next table - I wouldn't think it's you, but then he looked over to you and he got even more heated up. As if he was angry with you or some shit. What's that about?" - Okay, it wasn't the time to panic now, it was time for you to make something up. You were good at that, your small lies saved you and Ellie quite a few times. So now it was your time to lie to Ellie directly.

"Oh, oh yeah, that." - You nodded when you pretended that you suddenly realized. You had to pretend it wasn't even that important to you - and you were one of a good actor when it came to that. - "Yeah, we had some disagreements about my hunting lessons, so I told him some nasty things." - You rolled your eyes at the memory, secretly thinking about all of the nasty things you've done to him for real. For a moment, Ellie was laying there and looking at you, as if she was not really convinced that's the case - but suddenly, she started laughing. The sound of her laughter made you finally breathe out. She believed you.

"He can be an asshole when people ain't doing the things he wants them to do. I know... But still. I think I'm slowly getting behind the anger I felt for him. You know what I mean?" - She asked, suddenly being all vulnerable again. No-one in Jackson was able to see her the ways you did - she was blushing quite a lot around you. She never wore hair down in public - she always wore it down around you.

Maybe you've done the right thing with running away? He was right - it could damage and maybe even destroy a lot of relationships for you to only have occasional fun. Jesus, why was too hard to tell if you acted right even when you were just looking back on the situation? You were still into him, no matter how hard you tried to be into someone else. You spent a shit ton of time with Diego in the last month and as you expected, he was probably having something for you.

But every time he smiled at you, held your door, or told you a joke, you asked yourself - holy shit, why isn't Joel standing in front of me? Every time the man walked around you, your breath hitched when you remembered the pleasure time with him could bring. Every time Joel spoke at any kind of meeting, which happened rarely, you got lost in his voice and that Texas accent. What a slut you were. But what was done was done - and you couldn't just walk up to the man and kiss him after ignoring him for a month. In theory, you perfectly could, but what good would that bring?

"That's awesome. How you plan on doing that?" - You asked a bit uncomfortably, gulping one piece of the donut as you lounged back next to her. She leaned the back of her head on your thigh, opening her lips so you could feed her. At that, you smiled.

"I don't know yet." - She hummed thought the food, gulping it down. - "I think I'll just take some more time and... I will do the only thing I can. Go there, ask him to listen and talk." - Ellie closed her eyes for a moment. - "Man, do you know how fucking nervous I am about this? You're the only one who knows. If you'll going to tell it this information someone, you're waking up in the snow on one winter day."

"Really? I thought you're telling me and Dina the same amount of information?" - An answer came out of you as your eyes followed the girl who was turning off the console to play you both some movie to fall asleep during. When the first sigh came out of her, you knew something has gone bad. - "When did you two had the time to argue?"

"Well." - Ellie started, letting the opening of the movie roll. You didn't care about the fucking movie, you were staring at Ellie. - "The things are kinda on thin ice now. You remember when I told you I like someone?" - Ellie chuckled uncomfortably. You put five and five together immediately. She was looking down and suddenly, her face was red as a strawberry. No way in fucking hell. You remembered her relationship with Kat going to hell suddenly, but Dina? Holy fuck, that was a new level for you. It was still less scary than what you were doing with Joel, but it rose your eyebrows with surprise.

"You weren't talking about me?" - You tried to joke, but it wasn't appreciated at all at the moment.

"And I think she knows and something is happening between her and Jesse now, and we talked about some stuff, and now we're not talking." - Ellie told you in as few words as she could. Quietly, you sighed and laid down next to her, snuggling to her to watch the movie. You probably missed all of that because your head was all wrapped up around Joel all the time when you tried to figure out how to cross him out and forget that one night at his house. Great. You missed your best friends arguing because of the relationships. What a fucking friend you indeed were. You had to do something about that.

So the following morning, you did just that. As usual, you found Dina and Jesse together. They were just having breakfast - so you told Jesse to get up from the fucking table and leave because you and Dina were about to talk about girly stuff. Which wasn't weird at all, since you and Jesse never went easy at each other. That was why you loved the boy just as much as you did. - "What was that for? You're really off the rails today. Is it supposed to make me attracted to you?" - Dina asked playfully, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Come the fuck on, you're already into me so much you don't know what to do with it." - You answered and watched her moving her plate of veggies in front of you.

"True dat. You're angry and food always helps you when you're angry." - Dina leaned her cheek into her palm, smiling at you carefully. Yeah. Since you've spent most of the time in your workshop, gone on patrols, and with trying to take your mind off of Joel, you hadn't time to have breakfast with Dina and Ellie. And you missed it pretty bad.

"I'm not angry." - You pointed out, but stopped Dina from taking the damn plate back nonetheless, having the girl chuckle again. - "But I'm just concerned about you and Ellie. She told me a bit yesterday..." - You rose your eyebrows. Dina sighed at that, leaning her back into the chair below her. Watching you stuffing your cheeks with the food, she smiled again but didn't comment on it, since she was aware you'd tell her to fuck off as well.

"I don't know what's going on inside her now. She hasn't spoken to me in a week, she didn't even say a damned hi or acknowledged me. I told her that Jesse and I are having some... Problems now and she went all coo-coo, I haven't ever seen her like that before. She told you what was that about?" - Dina leaned her head closer to her shoulder, looking at you innocently.

Well, you had your theories, but Ellie hadn't told you officially what was happening, so all you could do was to shake your head. Dina scoffed at that, mumbling something very similar to an unbelievable 'of course she didn't'. Other than this small bit, once you allowed Jesse to join the breakfast again, it was a fun morning. As usual, you and the boy didn't hold a single comment back, making Dina laugh throughout the whole time.

It was your time to help Tommy with some things around Jackson and the patrols around it, but it was quite fun if you had to say. Tommy was a lovely guy - and ever since he stuck with you after Eve had passed away, you were looking up to him even more. And you're also screwing his brother, you slut, you told to yourself. This particular piece of information made your eyes widen. Jesus, where did that come from? Ever since this thing popping inside your head, you really couldn't think about anything else - not even Tommy's jokes made you laugh.

To have everything fucked by the evening, there was another meeting about the patrols - which was exactly what you needed, right? Another evening to strategize about sitting somewhere where Joel couldn't see. But what needed to be done, that needed to be done - especially when this meeting was supposed to assign groups for the coming up winter and spring.

It came off as expected - Tommy paired himself with Joel mostly, you had Ellie by your side, Dina and Jesse were together and Diego was assigned to Maria. There were occasions where you and Ellie would pick a kid from the patrol group. showing them what to do, but so far so good - this winter seemed to be cool. In the middle of the meeting, just when Tommy was talking about some shit that wasn't concerning you, again, you kinda turned your brain off and let your eyes just wander around the fucking room. Which you obviously shouldn't do.

Joel was just listening to his baby brother talking about stuff, leaning his ass to one of the tables as he drank his coffee. He wasn't listening from the moment Tommy grouped himself with Joel again. It didn't seem that you're hiding so far in the back that evening. You were sitting there, obviously, you weren't paying attention to Tommy for a long time. Your eyes were wandering around the room until the point they fell on him. For a moment, you were just staring at him and you probably didn't even realize you were. But it was bloody funny once you realized who you were looking at - immediately, you shifted your attention to Tommy. Nervously biting your lip this time. Wait a minute...

Joel did expect a lot from you - a look of disgust, aversion maybe, some confusion or anger... But you were just visibly nervous. Joel was purposely searching for some negative emotion in your face, for any red flag showing him you don't wanna even see him again, yet he didn't find any. That was the breaking point - he caught up with you as soon as the meeting ended, taking you aside to ask you some stuff which you two hadn't quite solved. And to solve it properly this time - already knowing how will he mess all of it up from the moment you agreed to talk to him.

You were one hella nervous-looking girl. Maybe it was that you were sobber, but your eyes were all over the place and you were playing with the hem of your shirt. - "Why we ain't talkin', girl? Did I mess somethin' up?" - The man whispered as you both stood on the other side of the street, talking rather quietly. It would be embarrassing if someone would hear even the slightest bit of your conversation.

This whole thing was confusing the shit out of you. With him being distant, possibly even cold to you, the whole month you didn't come to ask him if he liked it, it was hard to believe that he liked it. And that Joel maybe wanted to repeat it. And not once. This solution didn't come across as an answer for you, which was why you were looking at him as if you couldn't even speak proper English.

"No? How... Why... Why do you even think you've done something wrong?" - You whispered back, stepping more into the shadows. Jesus, you didn't remember missing his smell until the very moment you sniffed it again. You didn't remember how easy was to get aroused around him. You didn't know you missed these darkened eyes watching you, or the confident smirk on his face.

"Well, I woke up and you were nowhere to be seen. Quite easy to make somethin' outta that." - Joel sighed, looking around. There was one group standing a bit away from you, probably thinking about sneaking out of the city that night again.

"It... It wasn't like that." - A mumble left your lips as you watched the tips of your boots. - "I panicked, okay? I sobered up and I just thought that you might not like it as much as I did, and all the things you've told me before it happened... It was a lot." - You apologized, at least sorta apologized, Joel for your behavior. The man nodded and licked his lips - you almost missed the smug that appeared on his face. - "I couldn't even imagine how would it work, how..."

"And if I tell you to come today so I can show you how much of a torture it was for me?" - Joel asked you out of the blue, looking somewhere away from you. That made your breath hitch and eyes widen. You'd love that. You would. Yet it made you so nervous that you almost ignored a newcomer completely. It was Diego, who was visibly confused by seeing you and Joel talk in the shadows.

"Am I interrupting something?" - The black-haired boy looked at Joel, pointing at you with a wide smile. It could be seen that you're distant - it was because you had the imagination of you and Joel on your mind, both naked, inside his bedroom. Which was exciting. - "Not at all, son. What do you need?" - Joel grinned at him, trying how much fucked up he can get you before getting you into his bed.

"Um, it's kinda weird to talk about it in front of you, sir." - Diego chuckled, clearly respecting everything about that man. That poor boy was just about to ask you out, after the damned month he was building up the courage to do that. And just a moment after the man haunting your head asked you to come later that day.

"I won't tell a livin' soul, I swear." - Joel grinned at the boy. You were just standing there, already aroused from the damned question Joel asked you teasingly and now, he was pretty much enjoying seeing you in such a state. What a motherfucker.

"We're... I mean, me and a few other kids, are about to go for the last swim of the summer... And I was wondering if you'd like to go with me... I mean, us, of course." - The boy got out so silently that you could barely catch what he was asking about. When you realized, your eyes popped up.

The pressure was building inside you fast enough for you breath hitching for a second, while you had your cheeks on fire. You shot a look to Joel, who already knew your answer, and that motherfucker was just grinning. Then you turned your head back to Diego, making a sad face.

"I'm really tired to do that. I have to help in the kitchen tomorrow, so I'll be busy... I want to catch some sleep." - Your palm smoothed Diego's shoulder gently so he'd know you mean it. You were helping in the kitchen the following morning, so that wasn't a complete lie. But you were more than awake at that moment.

The boy seemed to be surprised you turned him down. He thought that you and he were building something since fall had started. You were together a lot, almost all the time, he was making you relaxed and laughing, he thought about kissing you many times as well. Maybe, he should've gone for it instead of just thinking about it. He was sure you'll come with them. But you told him no.

"Oh, sure. No problem. See you around then, I gotta go." - The boy gave you an honest smile and nodded to Joel as he was leaving slowly. His face was still saddened tho. - "Have fun, tho!" - You called out at the boy, feeling a palm creeping up your thigh even though Diego still had a clear view of you, and then a palm holding your ass pretty firmly. It was done in such a manner that Diego couldn't see a thing, yet you could feel Joel perfectly.

"What is this supposed to," - "Meet me at my place in twenty, 'kay?" - The man breathed out, already feeling himself hardening due to that small contact. After that, the palm slowly slapped you as he left you just standing there.

Confusion took hold on you once again. At least, it was a euphoric confusion this time. He liked it. He liked the night he spent with you. Joel Miller wanted to see you again, more like demanded it. His back were slowly disappearing out of your sight as you stood there with your panic mode turned on.

20 minutes was all he gave you. It was merely enough to take some seductive underwear on unless you'd make a run for it. So you ran for that shit to your home. And you almost hit Ellie with your shoulder when you just started sprinting.

She caught your shoulders to prevent you from falling, looking you in the eyes. She hasn't seen you in such a rush - never. You seemed like you can't keep your mind straight. - "What is wrong with you, baby?" - Ellie started to laugh, having Dina chuckle at you as well.

A good sign was that they both been talking before you almost killed Ellie singlehandedly. Their friendship seemed to be saved, which was great. But it wasn't concerning you in the slightest bit at the moment.

"I left my iron on. I need to turn it on right now!" - You yelled chaotically, already running off. Jesse was confusedly watching both Dina and Ellie starting to laugh. - "Why is that so funny?" - The boy asked when he circled his hand around Dina's shoulder and kissing her forehead right after.

Ellie wiped the tears away, shaking her head at the sight of you disappearing in the night. - "This girl had never ironed clothes in her life." - "Never before." - Dina finished, laughing with Ellie.

"She's probably going with Diego and other kids, they're sneaking out of the town." - Jesse assumed. That made sense. You've been always ready to do random bullshit, so going out of a midnight swim? That was you.

Well... Only if the things weren't completely different...

In record fifteen minutes, you found yourself creeping through Joel's neighborhood to see if anyone's out before knocking on the door.

He had enough time to prepare you at least a beer like a gift or something, but he chuckled at the things your behavior was saying about the things you had on your mind was enough.

"Come in, suit yourself." - Joel stepped aside, smiling at the sight of you. You were so damn cute with that small grin. You were also wearing a different t-shirt - this one wasn't yours since it was too tight and showed a good portion of your cleavage. He had never seen you wearing this one.

"Are you trying to support my alcoholism? A gentleman at his best, huh?" - You grinned upon seeing the beer served on the countertop.

"That wouldn't be too responsible, would it?" - Joel answered you, but took the second beer and toasted you before taking a good long swing. You did so too, gently meeting his bottle halfway. - "Is anything of this responsible, Joel?"

You were there again, doing exactly what you wished for and what you've told you're not ever doing again. It was strangely exciting. Honestly, you were wet beyond your wildest dreams and you could already feel the blood inside you boiling. It was quite exciting to stand there for a moment, watching each other. You almost felt as if Joel was too far away from you. With that, you put the bottle down, coming that one step closer to him. Gently, you tiptoed and put your palm on the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. This man's palms were exploring the entirety of your back thighs and ass.

How comes you haven't noticed how long his fingers were before? And how firmly he could squeeze things with them? You thought that you're maybe about to fuck on the countertop, but a hiss came directly to your ear. - "Come on, girl, take off these shoes for me."

Directly after that, he gave your ass one good slap, making you chuckle. But soon, as you saw that smile, you did what he had told you. The whole way to stairs up, you both leaned away for a while to take off another article clothes before leaning in for another heated kiss. By the time you were walking into the bedroom, you were only in your panties, while Joel stopped you before taking off his t-shirt, so you took the briefs instead. And lemme say, he was prepared to take you right there and then, but he didn't do that.

You were very confused once he laid down on his back. You smiled when you figured out that most probably, he wants you to ride him one more time, so you climbed to sit on his lap, biting your lip.

"I figured out you like it on the top, girl. You up?" - He chuckled when you palmed the shaft down there while Joel closed his eyes, smoothing both your thighs gently. It was quite fun to watch him react to the things you were doing - you hadn't seen a boy doing any soft pants under your touch. Joel even went to far to let out gentle groans sometimes. - "Jesus, get these off for me and climb 'ere." - The man looked at you, patting his stomach. You grinned as you pushed the panties away, wondering about why wants you on his belly. But you did as you were told.

"Good try, try it a bit higher." - The man chuckled at seeing you clueless. With even weirder expression, you climbed higher, now hugging his shoulders with your inner thighs. What the fuck was that for? You could feel his forearms circling your thighs, suddenly pushing you forward so aggressively that you had to put your elbows under you so you wouldn't fall on the mattress. Sure, you've been eaten out before, but it wasn't such a miracle everyone was talking about. On top of that, you were always laying on your side while the guys were usually kneeling in front of the bed.

You looked down on Joel to see him staring at you being completely wet - so much you could start dripping at any second. And suddenly, you heard him chuckling under you. Which honestly got you confused. - "What's so funny, cowboy?" - You whispered before you felt the beard kissing your right inner thigh.

"Nothin'. I'm just impressed by the view." - The man answered just seconds before his tongue and lips disappeared between your legs. At that feeling, you closed your eyes and moaned. You weren't even caring about your volume at that moment, you were just moaning louder and louder so the man would know how much you're enjoying what he's doing. It took you by a surprise when he slapped you to get you lean into his face, but you rocked against him just as he expected as he thought you'd.

"Girl, be so kind and pick yourself on your knees for me, will you?" - You didn't even realize he had stopped until the moment he spoke to you. You were just too lost in the feeling. Was it the attraction that made it all so much more enjoyable? Or maybe the fact he knew what he was doing? You didn't know, but you kneeled on top of him, watching half of the handsome face being covered by your own body. - "Now, put your hand in my hair, come on." - The man encouraged you while smoothing small circles on your thighs. Jesus, you must've looked so dumb and unskilled. With a gentle sigh, you did as you were told.

"Show me how you want it." - The man whispered, kissing your inner thighs gently. To try it out, you pulled on his hair gently, making these eyes shot directly to your face at that moment. He was listening to what you were about to show or tell, it didn't matter. Carefully, you entwined your fingers inside that maybe-a-bit-too-long hair, picking his head up to put it back where it belonged. Suddenly, when you closed your eyes because of all the nice things he was doing, you realized that he wasn't talking to you in such a matter. He didn't like to make fun of you because he knew these things and you didn't.

You had the upper hand at the moment. You were the one in charge. You deliberately chose to do this with him, again, and this was his way of paying him back without talking. And he also wanted you to learn you these things one by one, one step at a time. When that clicked inside your brain, you carefully put your other hand into his hair, massaging his scalp in the process to show him how much you were into it.

"Just don't stop, Texas." - You whispered town to him and when he hummed back as an answer, you thought you're coming for a moment there. It sent vibrations through your whole body, making you moan once again. When you, again, though things can't get any better, you felt two fingers slipping inside of you. You thought it might hurt at first, but your eyes rolled as soon as he moved them inside of you. Not like the last time when he was just making sure you're ready. Joel was taking his fucking time that night.

Watching you was the most erotic thing he had ever seen - and Joel had seen some stuff before you, alrite? Through the time, you learned that you can ride his face, which made you mutter out his name here and there, then you bent your head and let out another erotic sound. His jaws were on fucking fire... But how could he stop? That was until you tugged his hair again, making him lay down again. Only his fingers pumping in and out remained inside of you.

"Just take me already, will you be so kind?" - You asked silently, climbing off of him. He couldn't quite even climb on his elbows properly and there you were, already tugging on his t-shirt to bring closer. But you weren't going to kiss his mouth, no. Which made the man surprised. Instead of that, you hissed a small trail on his neck while your palm slipped under his t-shirt, gently scratching his back. - "Look at her, she's a natural." - Joel chuckled light-heartedly, pinning you down finally.

It was safe to say that neither of you lasted long, but there was nothing to wonder about. Letting the things gather inside for a month? Geez, nobody would go for hours after that. When Joel was trying to catch his breath, you pulled him close, letting him rest his head on your chest while unknowingly smoothing his hair. Which was probably his most favorite thing ever - the moments of vulnerability just moments after the act itself.

You were warm and fragile, something he had to protect. At least that what his head was thinking. In reality, he knew how good you were with a fucking bow since he learned you on his own, he had seen you survive some things... You weren't a small, fragile doll. - "I'm going for a shower, okay?" - You ended the small moment by kissing his forehead, leaving the bed. - "Will it be weird to borrow something? I kinda don't wanna go for the clothes, I'm too done for that." - You mumbled, trying to at least stand up. This man was capable of having your legs behaving like jello with the orgasms he could bring. He grunted, already throwing a t-shirt on you. - "Take your time, I’ll fetch somethin' to drink and the clothes, yea?" - He told you, already leaving the room, searching for his briefs in the process.

When you were done with the shower, the bedroom was prepared for you, your clothes folded on a small pile on the table, both beers standing on the nightstand. But Joel was sitting on the edge with Ellie's guitar, playing something. He was lost in the moment until you laid behind him, snuggling under the blanket. He almost put the guitar away, but your palm stopped him. - "Play something for me, Texas. Please?"

And he did. He remained playing until he noticed you're already asleep. And for the first time in a long time, Joel wasn't feeling alone.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller the last of us #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #dina the last of us #jesse the last of us #tommy miller #tommy the last of us #maria miller #maria the last of us

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dogboy-willgraham · 4 years ago

Text

Roadtrip

It’s finally finished! At 2,093 words, it might be one of my longest single pieces, and is definitely my longest original piece. This features my characters, Jasper a monster hunter, and his eldritch horror partner Eight. Reblogs make my day, and nice tags/comments/etc. allow you to hold my heart in your hands, and with that, please enjoy Roadtrip.

@lunarmultishine Here it is!

Eight watched Jasper pack his things, nervously tapping it’s fingers against the table. Jasper carefully set weapons under clothing, hiding them as best he could in the suitcase from anyone who might want to look inside.

Jasper was leaving for another hunt. Eight was used to it, somewhat, it had become a regular part of life at least. It still made Eight nervous when he left, but it was minimal most of the time. Today wasn’t most of the time though, it seemed.

“Do you really have to take a job so far away?”

Jasper sighed. “It’s not that far, I’ve been farther. You don’t need to worry about me being across the country for a couple of weeks,”

“It’s...not that...exactly,” Eight said. “I’m worried Jasper, truly. This is more dangerous than usual, I worry about what might happen to you,”

“You don’t need to. I can handle myself,” Jasper said, a bit defensively.

“I don’t doubt that a moment darling,” Eight smiled. “Not a moment, but again this isn’t your run of the mill monster-”

“It’s a monster that will happily drag me into whatever hell-hole it crawled out of and eat me like a prime steak,” Jasper finished for it. “I get that, and I’m still going, and I’ll be fine, I can handle it,”

“You know I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t,” Eight snipped. “I’m scared,” It added, softer.

Jasper flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just don’t like you worrying over me. Makes me feel like a weight. Don’t like making you worry anyway,” Jasper muttered the last words into the couch cushion.

Eight smiled gently, and sat next to Jasper. “It’s alright,” It said. “I know it won’t make you feel much better, but you’ll have to live with me worrying over you, especially during hunts, it’s my job now,”

Jasper snorted and flipped over. “Oh good. And what are you getting paid for this?”

“The pleasure of your company,” Eight said. “Your troublesome habits, your kisses, just you in general truly,”

Jasper blushed and hid his face in his arms. “You...you something,”

Eight laughed and pulled it’s boyfriend into its arms. “Is that all you have? Something?”

“I’m not in the state to come up with anything better,” Jasper said, hiding his still flushed face in Eight’s shirt. “Leave me alone,”

Eight laughed, pulling Jasper even closer. “Heavens, I love you,”

“I love you too, Eight,” Jasper sighed.

“I trust you Jasper, I trust that you’ll come home,” Eight said. “But I’ll still worry, very much,”

Jasper sighed deeply. “I’d still like to ease them, if there’s any way I can,”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Eight grinned.

“Oh, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Jasper groaned.

“Dearly,” Eight teased. “I would like to come with you this time, to make sure you stay safe,”

Jasper held back a comment about how he didn’t need someone to make sure he was safe. “Who’s going to watch Majesty then?”

“Your father?” Eight suggested. “Of course there’s always my dear friend Kady-”

“No, not Kady, never Kady, not ever Kady,”

“What do you have against her?” Eight asked.

“I’m afraid Majesty loves her more than me, I feel threatened,” Jasper said, dead serious. “I am not taking any chances,”

“You’re ridiculous my love,” Eight sighed. “Your father is still an option,”

Jasper seemed to think for a moment. “We’re actually doing this, aren’t we? You’re coming with me?”

“If you’ll let me,”

Jasper let out a small sigh. “I’ll call my dad,”

Eight grinned. “Thank you darling,”

“Mph, of course,” Jasper mumbled. “C’mon, we’ve got to get you packed,”

“I can manipulate reality, somewhat,” Eight said. “We don’t need to pack anything,”

Jasper stood up. “It’s part of the experience,”

“I don’t think it’s necessary I have the full exp-” Eight was caught off guard by Jasper yanking him up suddenly.

“Nope, it is entirely necessary,” Jasper said. “You must have the full experience, even if you aren’t human,”

Eight smiled softly, what was it to not indulge it’s human and their requests? “Alright love, lead the way,”

“Great,” Jasper grinned a bit, breaking the illusion of burden he had earlier. “Let’s go,”

Roughly an hour later, they had finished packing. The sky was slowly lightening, and it was time to get going, if they were to be within Jasper’s schedule.

“My dad will be here later to watch Majesty,” Jasper said, climbing into the passenger's seat. “Surprised he even answered this early in the morning,”

“Great,” Eight smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jasper said, then immediately added, “Are you sure you want to drive? You don’t have to,”

“Darling, out of the two of us I’m the one who doesn’t actually need sleep,” Eight said. “I can drive,”

“I know, I also know you get weird if you sit too long sometimes, I can drive,”

“I’m sitting either way,” Eight pointed out.

“You can at least stretch out in the passenger's seat,” Jasper sighed, while being slightly displeased at the idea of how Eight stretched out. He was getting used to it though.

“I can drive,” Eight repeated firmly. “Try to go to sleep, love,”

“Alright,” Jasper relented. “I’ll try,”

“I can put on some of your music if you’d like?”

“No, just start driving,”

“Alright love,”

Jasper had managed to fall asleep at some point, and awoke with the sun fully up and in his eyes. Soft music was playing, and Jasper couldn’t quite identify what it was.

“Good morning darling,” Eight said.

“Mm, morning,” Jasper yawned. “Where are we now?”

“Well, we’ve been driving for about four hours now,” Eight began. “I say we’re almost to the next state,”

“Good,” Jasper said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Quite well my dear,” Eight smiled. “A bit stiff, but quite well. Not unlike the nights where I watch you while you sleep,”

“Still sounds as creepy as ever,” Jasper laughed. “But good, I’m glad,” He settled back into his seat. “By the way? What do you have playing?”

“Oh, it’s an old friend of mine’s music,” Eight explained. “They never got popular, but they were amazing while they were around, it turns out a more than average amount of fingers really helps when playing piano,”

“What happened to them?” Jasper asked.

“They were burned for supposedly being a spawn of Satan,” Eight said nonchalantly. “Truthfully, they were, but it was still quite unfair,”

“When was this?” Jasper asked, more confused.

“Oh, about a decade ago, odd things do happen in the sparsely populated areas of North Dakota,”

“So, let me get this straight,” Jasper said. “In a sparsely populated area of North Dakota, a many fingered Satanic spawn began playing and composing piano music, then was burned for being a Satanic spawn? By who?”

“A few church leaders and a couple of devout followers,” Eight said. “They were quite lucky that it didn’t light any brush or trees on fire, would’ve been a right mess then,”

Jasper groaned. “This is too much information for me to process, I just got up,”

“You are the one who asked,”

“I did not expect this result,” Jasper said. “So I could not have asked for it,”

“Well, would you like me to change it then?” Eight asked.

“It’s fine,” Jasper said. “But if you want to, I have a playlist specifically for this,”

“Of course,” Eight let a tentacle slip out to change the music, and pulled it back into its form. “What have you even put on this one?”

“You’ll see,”

As soon as Jasper had stopped speaking, Animal by Neon Trees started playing.

“I’m usually alone on long drives,” Jasper stated, a bit awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” Eight smiled. “You should’ve met one of my previous partners, sang such things, quite obscene, for the time at least,”

“Really?”

“Quite so,” Eight said. “Still remember them, quite sad they were eaten by an acquaintance of mine. Lovely human, and alright horror. Such a shame they both had to go,”

Jasper blinked. “Please warn me when you are about to tell me a story that ends like that,”

“You should be used to it by now darling,” Eight teased.

“It’s still jarring when you just tell me your ex was eaten and then you killed the thing that killed them,” Jasper sighed.

“Fair enough,” Eight said. “But you also do pull your horrifying tale out of nowhere from time to time,”

“Still,”

“I’ll try,”

“Thanks,” Jasper smiled, and Everybody Talks by Neon Trees began playing as they continued on.

“Pull over there, Eight,” Jasper said, gesturing to the gas station off to the right. “We need fuel, and to stretch,”

“I’m doing fine, we don’t have to-”

“You’ve been sitting for the past six hours, you’ve already pulled out your tentacles twice, as well as another mouth,” Jasper said. “And I need to stand as well,”

“Alright,” Eight did as asked.

“I’ll go in and pay, you just stay here and do your thing,” Jaser said as they pulled in. “I don’t think I’d be able to explain if you did it outside,”

“Fair, go ahead love,” Eight was already deformed the moment the car stopped.

“Have fun,” Jasper smiled, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

“Hi,” The clerk greeted Jasper as he walked in. “Welcome to...um, welcome,”

“Hey,” Jasper said. “I’d like to put fifty on eight,” He set three twenties on the counter, and then a pack of cinnamon gum.

“Alright, uh, sure,” The clerk, who’s name tag, which was actually a sticky note on top of the actual name tag, read Ethan, took the money and gum. “So...you from around here?”

“No, travelling for work,”

Ethan nodded. “Travelling alone?” He asked, not realizing until after that it sounded a bit strange.

“I’m actually here with my partner,”

Ethan seemed to perk up at the word. “Oh, that sounds nice. You two going far?”

“Pretty far, a few states away,” Jasper said.

“Well, I hope you and your partner have fun,” Ethan smiled. “Here’s your change, and gum,”

“Thanks,” Jasper smiled, taking the items. “Have a good day,”

“You too,” Ethan said. “Stop by if you ever come around again, I’d love to say hi to your partner,”

“Will do, I’m sure it’d love to say hi to you as well,” Jasper waved before leaving.

“Alright Eight, move over,” Jasper said after he had finished filling up. “I’m driving,”

“You sure?” Eight asked, reforming.

“Yeah,” Jasper tossed the pack of cinnamon gum to Eight. “Even got you some gum to help with the long bouts of sitting, managed to find your favorite flavor too,”

“Oh, thank you love,” Eight smiled.

“Of course,” Jasper climbed into the car. “You might have heinous tastes, but I love you,”

“Excuse me, it’s good, you just haven’t tried it,”

“Wanna bet?” Jasper challenged. “I promise you that if I tried it, it would still be disgusting,”

“Alright then,” Eight offered a piece of gum to Jasper. “Try it, and if you don’t hate it, you have to kiss me,”

“If you want a kiss you just have to ask,” Jasper laughed. “But I accept your challenge, if I hate it, you have to accept it’s terrible to everyone with taste,”

“Accepted,”

Jasper took the piece of gum and popped it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, not saying anything.

“So?” Eight asked.

Jasper sighed. “I don’t like it, I really don’t...but it’s not the worst thing I’ve tasted,”

Eight grinned. “That means I have won darling,”

“You have, you have,” Jasper groaned, then spitting the gum out into a garbage can. “It’s still bad,”

“Still, it’s not as bad as you’ve been saying,” Eight grinned.

“You’ve earned your kiss,” Jasper leaned over and kissed Eight softly. “You’ve won,”

“Mm,” Eight hummed. “Very satisfying victory,”

“Alright, you’ve had enough of that win,” Jasper laughed. “Let’s get going,”

“Unfair,” Eight playfully pushed Jasper’s shoulder, but yes, let’s,”

Poker Face by Lady Gaga began playing as they pulled out of the gas station, and continued on their trip.

They had arrived at the place fourteen hours later, in the dead of night. Eight pulled to a stop in the hotel parking lot, and looked over to it’s sleeping partner.

“Love, we’re here,”

Jasper stirred a bit, but didn’t wake.

Eight smiled. It came around and gently lifted Jasper from the seat, careful not to wake him.

They could get their bags in the morning.

#original writing #ocs #jasper/eight #jasper #eight #pls rebagel #hopefully this is good #i worked hard on it #it is not beta'd or anything so please take it as it is and be gentle

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lostinthewiind · 5 years ago

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A prompt for Speirs or Lipton! Reader has found a quiet, peaceful spot in the countryside near Aldbourne where they escape from the boisterous 506 PIR. However they dont know that someone else has also discovered that spot, and they get interrupted whilst they are sunbathing in their underwear! Xx

I choose . . . drumroll please . . . LIPTON! I changed the plot slightly to take place in Austria after the war. I just think there might be better weather there for sunbathing, no offence to England *cough* *cough*

TAG LIST: @gottapenny @warmommy @scissorsfordoc @david-weepster@wexhappyxfew @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker @thefricklefracklesin @junojelli @bandofgays @itisjustmethistime @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @dumpofdumblings @inglourious-imagines @misspiggyfeels

Our Own Little Slice of Heaven

It was a beautiful day; one you could actually take the time to appreciate. Sure, there had been many a day during the war where you had woken up and the sun had been shining and the sky had been a glorious shade of light blue, but the sound of artillery and screams for a medic that soon followed usually soured any and everything that was once worth cherishing.

Now that the war was over, however, there was much more time in the day to stop and savour the little things, such as a blue sky or a shimmering lake, and that was exactly what you planned on doing.

Most of the men had taken it upon themselves to spend as much time in the lake as possible, and although you weren’t necessarily shy around the men you considered family by now, you still weren’t keen on the idea of stripping down in front of all of them. Luckily for you, while on a walk through the woods one day, you came across a small, secluded lake nestled among the trees that no one else knew about.

Now, every morning, you visited the lake, took a swim, and laid in the sun for a while with a good book. Some days you spent hours on end there, enjoying the beauty of the little slice of heaven you had discovered and the time you got to spend alone; just you and your thoughts.

With a towel in one hand and a book in the other, you made your way down the narrow path toward the lake, ready to start your day the same way you had the day before and the day before that.

Setting your belongings down beside a large tree trunk, you unzipped your jacket and stepped out of your boots and pants before making your way toward the sirene lake. Despite the fact that the still, blue water looked so very inviting when it sparkled in the sunlight, you knew it was deceivingly cold, so without hesitation, you wasted no time in taking the plunge and leapt off of a rock into the water.

Your body tensed as soon as you touched the water, but seconds later, you felt more awake than any cup of coffee could ever make you feel and let out a refreshed sigh.

You didn’t stay in the water long—just long enough to wake up give your body and hair a quick rinse. About five minutes later, you climbed out of the lake and scurried back over to your belongings, wrapping yourself up in your towel to dry off.

Then you laid the towel down on the grass and sat down, and with your back against the tree trunk, you picked up your book and flipped to the last page you had left off at. In your bra and underwear, you lounged in the sun and air-dried, letting your thoughts fade away as you got lost in your book.

Not long after you started reading, however, you heard a branch snap somewhere close by and looked up, expecting to see an animal or something but instead seeing a man.

Staring out over the lake, Carwood Lipton was taking in the breathtaking scenery, completely oblivious to the fact that you were sitting five meters away. You waited for him to notice you, but when he didn’t, you decided to speak up. “It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” you asked, catching him off guard and causing him to jump a little.

“Oh, Y/N.” Lipton turned toward you, his eyes widening when he realized you were more exposed than he had ever seen you before. “I’m sorry.” he apologized as he turned his back to you, his cheeks flushing with heat. “I didn’t think anybody else knew about this place.”

“That’s exactly what I thought, too,” you said. “Hence the reason I’m not exactly decent.”

Lipton let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Don’t be.” you placed your bookmark back into your book and set it aside. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before . . . you know, a woman’s body, I mean . . . not my body in particular.”

“I should probably just go.”

“No, don’t go.” you felt bad about being the reason Lipton didn’t get to enjoy a place that he obviously adored just as much, if not more than you did. “Come, sit. I’ll put some clothes back on.”

Slowly, Lipton turned back around as you slipped your jacket on to cover your bra. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you crossed your legs, not bothering to put your pants back on since you were pretty sure Lipton was grown-up enough to handle a little bit of thigh. “It’s too nice out today to not sit by the lake for a while. Come and sit with me.”

Hesitantly, Lipton walked over and sat down beside you. “I usually come here first thing in the morning when the sun is just peeking over the horizon,” he said. “I’ve never really taken the time to stop and appreciate a sunrise before. I’m glad I have now.”

“That sounds amazing.” you smiled.

“You should come watch the sunrise with me tomorrow morning,” Lipton suggested. “If you think this place is beautiful now, just wait until you see it when the world’s first waking up. The birds are singing, the crickets are chirping. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing.”

You laughed softly, a smile spreading across your face. “I never knew you were such a softie, Lip.”

“Really?”

“No, I lied,” you admitted. “What with being the company’s den mother and all, I sort of suspected it. But singing birds and chirping crickets is a new level, even for you.”

“What? A man isn’t allowed to enjoy the beauty the world has to offer without being some kind of sad sap?”

You chuckled. “I never said ‘sad sap’, I said ‘softie’. There’s a difference,” you told him. “It’s a good thing. Women like a man who isn’t afraid to drop that harsh, brooding demeanour every once in a while.”

Lipton nodded, the corners of his lips curling up ever-so-slightly. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” you questioned, confused.

“Do you like a man who isn’t afraid to drop that harsh, brooding demeanour every once in a while?”

You thought for a moment or two before answering, the warm morning breeze brushing your damp hair over your shoulders. “I suppose so. I haven’t really put much thought into it, to be honest.”

“That’s okay. I sort of caught you off guard with that question, anyway.”

“No, it’s not that,” you assured him. “It’s just been a long while since I’ve really paid any mind to the qualities I look for in a man. It’s been a long while since I’ve paid any mind to anything besides staying alive.”

“I know how you feel.” Lipton nodded in agreement. “It’s gonna be weird returning to normal life. I’m not sure how I’ll function . . . I wish I could just stay here forever.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you exhaled. “I like that idea.”

“We can stay here together.” Lipton lifted his face to the sun and closed his eyes. “We can just sit here in the sun and look out over that lake for the rest of our lives.”

You giggled. “I think we might get hungry after a while.”

Lipton opened one eye and looked back at you. “ . . . or at least until the sun starts to set and it gets cold.”

“That sound’s more realistic.” you took Lipton’s hand in yours and interlocked your fingers with his. “We can come back in the morning and watch the sun rise again.”

“Most definitely.”

“Hey, Lip?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve had a chance to think about it. I do like a man who isn’t afraid to drop that harsh, brooding demeanour every once in a while.”

Lipton opened both eyes this time. “’A man’?” he repeated.

“Yeah.” you smiled. “I’ve got someone specific in mind.”

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #band of brothers fanfiction #lostinthewiind #carwood lipton #carwood lipton x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #hbowar

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inumaqi · 5 years ago

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top ten tagged by @linkspooky 🍊 explanations under the cut! sorry for rambling xo → rules: name your top ten favourite characters from ten different fandoms, and then tag ten people - @osomanga @kara-suno @anonimarevolts @zeninmaki @wildbishonen @shysheeperz @tkmewthyou @kaldurlenn @joxterism @marshmallowdonutsprinkles

snufkin okay so he’s the only one not from an anime or manga but i had to put him on bc he’s the most important fictional character to me, ever. i grew up watching the moomin cartoons in the 90s and thinking about it instantly calms me down - they used to air the episodes early in the morning when it would still be dark outside: the landscapes were moody and cosy, the characters were so softly spoken and articulate... it’s just peak nostalgia. anyway, snufkin is moomin’s best friend; he returns to moominvalley every year to be with his friends during the spring and says his goodbyes to go adventure again come winter. it upsets moomin when he leaves but snufkin is adamant that quiet and solitude are important and healthy, and it’s not fair to expect him to compromise on his independence - that made a really big impact on me as a kid, especially as someone who never really had their ‘own’ space (twinsies). relationships aren’t weakened by physical distance or time, they’re about communication and understanding. that was important too. i don’t think i realised just how influential it had been until i was an adult but snufkin is an anarchist. he first shows up in the comics when moomin and sniff are talking about opening a bank - he tells them they should plant fruit trees instead. he destroys private property and rescues orphans, he refuses to participate in things that don’t bring him joy. when he’s asked where home is, he replies, “nowhere. or everywhere! it depends how you look at it” - the whole world belongs to him, and the whole world belongs to everyone else too.

yomo renji in general, i like characters that trudge along in the background and do the nitty-gritty work that supports the main story. i like people like that irl too. more than anything else, yomo is desperate to form human connections, even though he’s shackled by self-doubt and self-loathing. he just wants to positively contribute to a community, thinking he’s most useful keeping a quiet eye on people who might need protection/guidance (while still giving them space to grow and act themselves) or foraging for human corpses so that others aren’t in danger or moral anguish doing it for themselves.

bird boy is a total weapon - “the perfect ghoul” - and you’re reminded over and over again but a lot of his growth is about rejecting violence and repurposing his power as something productive that he can use to help the people around him instead of hurting people (the yang to uta’s yin). in the first few chapters, he says he kills humans (he’s a ghoul, humans are food, it’s natural) and yet he’s consistently framed as a scavenger who seeks out ‘roadkill’ [suicide victims] for sustenance, even before coming to anteiku, and implements a system so other people can do the same.

suguru getou i was originally gonna say meg bc i love him but, having just finished The Flashback Arc, i can’t stop thinking about getou and i’m beyond impressed with how akutami has managed to ground him so well, so sympathetically. getou is the sick, warped darkness to the hopeful light that gojou commands but... in an uncomfortable twist, the reverse is true, kind of.

actually, gojou is arrogant and confrontational and hyper individualistic. he’s a dissident. getou is obedient, compassionate, self-aware... he has a sense of social responsibility and passionately believes that his skills should be used to protect those who can’t protect themselves - non-jujutsu sorcerers - and all of the suffering he endures as a result is worth that. idk if others are reading his downfall differently but, from where i’m standing, that overwhelming responsibility never goes away, he doesn’t give up on it - he just starts to view the social landscape differently and begins to see how jujutsu sorcerers are vilified and mistreated in spite of all the good that they do. the ‘weak’ aren’t really weak when they’re able to organise and assert collective power over a minority, and so his sympathies shift.

the nail in the coffin for getou is learning that the hurt and pain could be eradicted from the world by cutting the head of the proverbial snake: non-jujutsu users generate cursed energy, so get rid of non-jujutsu users and cursed energy won’t be generated. it’s all horribly, weirdly rooted in good intentions that weigh him down and misdirect him. shinazugawa genya i feel like the bond that slowly starts to develop betwen tanjirou, and zenitsu and inosuke (in particular) is nicely foiled by genya’s lonely journey towards becoming a pillar. after losing almost all of his family and having sanemi walk away, genya is angry, antisocial, rude, violent, evasive...

he’s characterised as competitive, as if he hates his peers and wants to leave them in the dust as an act of self-satisfaction, a power fantasy or whenever, but this is a deliberate misdirection to cover for the fact that he’s scrambling to be a pillar so that he can reconnect with his brother and prove to him that he can protect himself; that sanemi doesn’t need to shoulder everything alone like he used to. his entire goal is an act of apology.

and in a story where so many characters are able to hone these exceptional skills, genya is uniquely disadvantaged as the only one who can’t master breathing techniques. rather than having a hero moment and powering up, his need to reconnect with sanemi is so strong that he essentially decides to compromise his humanity and become a kind of monster by ingesting the demons he’s pledged to annihilate. amajiki tamaki i wish i had a a longer explanation for this one but it’s actually super simple: tamaki is a really, really, really good portrayal of a person burdened with severe anxiety. the way he physically carries himself, the way he hides his face, his manner of speaking, his dependency on his mirio, how he interprets compliments as trickery, how he needs to be pushed and pushed and pushed before he’s finally able to release his potential... every single scene with tamaki felt deeply personal when i was reading bnha and i knew exactly what he was supposed to be feeling. shinmon benimaru sometimes good, nice people don’t fit a little friendly mould and i like that benimaru is hostile and rough and antisocial, even with people he cares about. he doesn’t expect anything of people, he doesn’t want them interfering with him, and he wants to help and support them all the same because he believes in community. he’s completely oppositional to the special fire force because he thinks it’s a tool to pursue an ideology rather than to protect people, which is why it’s so important when the eighth are finally able to win his approval - they become the only company the seventh consider allies, and it’s proof that their objectives are righteous. despite his reputation as... kind of a nuisance, his skill is acknowledged by everyone and he’s universally regarded as the strongest fire soldier there is. in spite of his antisocial attitude, he agrees that it’s important to share that with younger fire soldiers - he’s incredibly patient and understanding with them, helps them to individually adapt. the way he (and others in company seven) operate in contrast to the other companies when fighting infernals is really cool to me for two reasons: (1) it provides a commentary on how cultures and traditions often struggle to survive when they’re systematically (forcefully) replaced through power and wealth - although the subtext is a little troubling because it’s unclear whether ōkubo is conflating multiculturalism with globalisation which, uh, big nope; and (2) philosophically speaking, the approach to death is interesting. where the other companies essentially perform last rites and offer absolution to the deceased, benimaru personally takes responsibility - at the request of the people in his district - for sending them off in huge public display, kind of like a festival intending to celebrate their life. i think it speaks to how profoundly he values life. akihiko kaji i liked akihiko from the beginning because he’s stoic and introspective and also excitable and dumb. he’s a people watcher and waits for opportunities to softly guide uenoyama and mafuyu when they’re quietly crying out for help but doesn’t interfere any more than he thinks is necessary because he knows they can make their own way to where they need to go. i liked akihiko even more when he got really fucking messy. his relationship with ugetsu is sweet and it’s incredibly ugly and unhealthy because they both fail utterly to communicate with one another - they’re both to blame for avoiding and hurting each other, and i think that’s a really normal issue that people find difficult to overcome. i’m super interested (and really nervous) to see how his relationship with haruki develops. he’s done some horrible things to haruki and i want him to be accountable for those things and have them affect their relationship in a realistic way.

tanigaki genjirou one thing i really, really love about golden kamuy is the way noda satoru incorporates the importance of minority cultures into the story, and tanigaki’s apparent abandonment of his matagi heritage is really beautifully written. matagi hunting traditions shaped his life as a young man, it’s how he was able to really assimilate to the people around him and form relationships and - without getting too spoilery - he divorces himself from it all when he’s overcome by grief and hatches a plan for revenge against the person responsible. so, by allowing himself to surrender to negative feelings and thoughts instead of seeking support and learning to heal from what happened, he becomes a total shadow of himself.

makimura takeshi i know i’ve gushed about it before but i can’t properly explain just how incredible it felt seeing an asexual character in manga dialogue about being asexual, and devils’ line does it twice. the reason i’m so attached to makimura in particular is because he doesn’t seem to have fully figured it out - and he’s kinda... comfortable with that. he wants to be with someone and he wants to be monogamous but he can’t understand why he doesn’t feel sexual desire towards her; he knows his feelings aren’t platonic but doesn’t know whether they can really be called romantic either.

not to go dark mode but i very vividly remember just how lonely and horrifying it was battling with those uncertainties when i was a teenager, thinking i was broken because i didn’t have Normal Human Feelings and needed to be fixed. i was so worried about it that i thought about all the boys i knew, picked the one i thought was the nicest and actively tried to develop a crush on him. it was dumb as fuck but, ten years later, i realise it was really desperate and sad too. i forced myself to have ~my first kiss~ (it was horrible) because i felt like i was getting left behind and i think i would’ve put myself in worse situations as i got older if i hadn’t suffered with such bad social anxiety.

i hadn’t really thought too much about a lot of this stuff for yeaaars but it all came flooding back when i was reading devils’ line. it was bittersweet bc i was remembering all of those shitty feelings but also watching this character grapple with those same questions and go: i don’t know yet and that’s not weird, let’s just grow with it. i still don’t totally know whether i’m ace or aro or bi, or whatever, but i’m trying to be okay with just... not knowing.

misora shuuji anyway, devils’ line isn’t actually a manga with a specific focus on sexuality and gender but shimanami tasogare is and all of the characters are written beautifully. if you haven’t read it yet... then why haven’t you read it yet? misora is only about twelve years old and watching them battle with their growing pains is really compelling - they’re closeted but, through the lounge, they have somewhere to explore their gender and all the questions they have about it. they’re amab and present as traditionally feminine wrt clothes, wigs, makeup, etc. but can’t quite tell if they see themselves as a girl, a boy or non-binary.

with the onset of puberty and anxieties about physical changes to their body, misora’s story puts a lot of emphasis on the pressure they face to just ‘make up their mind’ about something that’s actually incredibly complex and doesn’t have any easy answers. they snap and shout and get upset, especially when tasuku (the protag) tries to push them into a corner because he wants a concrete label or identity he can attach to misora, even though space is exactly what misora needs.

#jujutsu kaisen #given #kimetsu no yaiba #boku no hero academia #enen no shouboutai #tokyo ghoul #shimanami tasogare #devils' line #golden kamuy #moomins #mine*edit

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 6 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Tag”

As always, feel free to contact me with questions and ideas, I always love hearing from you guys.

The Humans were in meeting with the Galactic assembly again. It was the seventh peace talk that they had had in the last few months. This time an entire human envoy had come from Earth to participate. The chairman of the UN had been joined by at least seven other representatives, and the resulting military forces. To say that the planet was on edge would have been a massive understatement. The night was falling and the blue and red moons shared the sky above with their green moon having sunk below the horizon. Human troops and alien troops stood across from each other in front of the conference chambers staring each other down with nervous fidgeting.

Some of the humans seemed rather relaxed under the alien sky, but the newer humans glanced around in worry and awe. The alien troops, standing across from them, looked on in worry at the strange predatory creatures, lines in lines of them in perfect geometric rows, moving only occasionally to take a deep breath and a drink of water. The alien soldiers watched in horror as the poisonous dihydrogen monoxide dripped down their chins and onto their skin. New medical information having been posted to the soldiers told them that the humans were an upwards of 60+% water, required it to live, and even shed it when they were hot for a cooling affect.

It would be dangerous for certain species to touch them, it would be even more dangerous for certain species to be around them when they breathed. Moisture came out in their breath, collected on their skin, and moistened their mouths noses and eyes. It was everywhere, and everyone knew it. Their officers were trying to keep them appraised of the situation. The humans couldn’t help their poison breath or their poison skin….. But that didn’t mean they weren’t scary. Scary humans with their front facing eyes and their sharp pointed teeth and their sharp nails, and heir predatory instincts.

The way their eyes darted around tracking movement, it was just…. Unnatural

The hours pressed on like that, with the humans on one side and the other soldiers on the other sitting and staring at each other in tense silence, than boredom... great amounts of boredom.

Humans grew restless easily.

And then one of the humans piped up.

“Hey, anyone want to play a game.” The aliens were aware of this human by now. He was lightly pigmented in color with a light yellow hair and green eyes. This human was particularly friendly to aliens, though no one was really sure what to make of it. Some of the species thought it was oddly charming, and others were very paranoid, maybe it was another tactic to get close to them, make them feel at ease before he struck.

At the mention of a game, even the most gruff of the humans raised their grey heads in response. The younger, light human almost skipped into the space between the two groups. The older humans watched in amusement eyes rolling occasionally at the younger humans odd antics. Like they were watching a young animal bounce around.

“What kind of game?” One of the older humans asked.

The young human shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, tag, sharks and guppies, red rover, anything to stretch my legs, I’m dying.”

One of the humans sorted, “Come on LT, what are you, Five.”

“I would rather be five and occupied than twenty and bored out of my mind. So you can sit there like a fat lump of dirt, or you can come and we can play a game.”

The human glanced over at the aliens and grinned, “You can play if you want…. I don’t know if you guys get bored, but…. Still.”

The aliens glanced at each other, not really sure what to do. The meaning of the word…. Play was a bit alien to them, just like the humans. The idea of boredom was also rather abstract. Some of the aliens understood the meaning better than others, but all of them declined for the moment ok with watching the humans at first.

The younger human took a little longer trying to convince the other humans to play. Many of them were much older, some of them with silver in their hair. Odd that, how humans turns silver when they grow old.

But one by one, all of them, older and younger caved in to the young human some with shakes of their head, but most with growing enthusiasm. They lined up their bags in neat rows just outside the square and then huddled together arguing about which game they should play.

Arguably a simple game of tag seemed good enough for the group of them, the older group argued that since the younger one came up with the insane idea in the first place that he should be the one to start out. All the aliens looked on in confusion as the younger human stood at the center of the field. He looked up at the sky and began to count backwards from ten.

The other humans moved from their original positions and began circling around the open space. The alien ranks turned to watch some of the humans who conveniently moved to stand behind them as if hiding.

Finally, the young human raised his head, and the entire group of aliens stepped back in unison. The pupils had widened considerably, his body hunched low hands out knees slightly bent. Those same wide and primed eyes searched around the clearing locking onto the nearest other human, and then…. Suddenly, charged.

The aliens scattered back towards the perimeter of the yard as the human charged towards one of his companions, on the instant and without warning. The human being chased reacted almost immediately, supernaturally fast ducking out of the way as the young human spilled onto the ground. But he was up as soon as he was down pursuing like with his predatory gate.

They faced against each other shoulders hunched chins down knees bent dodging back and forth, pouncing and racing until, the young human leaped into the air, and slammed into another’s back throwing both of them to the ground in a chorus of Oooos by the other humans. The young human rolled onto his back panting. The other human gave him an eye and lunged.

“NO TAG BACKS.” The younger human yelled leaving the older human with a grudging frown crouching over him.

Then he turned to the crowd, and then the aliens screamed as the human charged towards them. They tried to run, and only the Rundi were able to make it, but even then the human ignored them skidding through their ranks weaving and ducking with lightning reflexes that should have had him skidding into a wall.

Another human ducked out of the way, but a quick strike form the human caught her a glancing brush just across the back. They continued like that for some time growing more aggressive as they went, their hunting instincts too much to fight down, and they hunted each other with vigor, a single predator among an agile prey. The unspoken rules seemed to indicate that harassing someone not of their species was against the rules, but that didn’t stop the humans using the Rudi soldiers like shields putting them between the hunter and the hunted running in circles around the confused and scared creature to avoid being tagged by the other human.

Rundi soldiers and their other nonhuman counterparts pressed themselves up against the walls and perimeter of the square as the humans continued with their antics, charging, tackling, and chasing each other.

An older human raced after his younger green-eyed counterpart. The young one was faster, but the older human was wily chasing him straight towards the Assembly Chamber doors in order to trap him. They had almost reached the stairway when the doors were thrown open. In surprise, the young human lost his footing and went careening right into the steps. There was an audible crack, and the entire square went dead silent.

The Galactic Assembly chairman stood at the head of a column of delegates frozen in the doorway next to the UN representative and Admiral for the UNSC deep space division. The other humans quickly charged backwards forming up into their ranks, standing as still as possible.

The older human had crouched down to help the younger human, who was rubbing his head in pain.

The chairwoman of the Galactic Assembly took an uncertain step back staring out at her confused and terrified soldiers pressed up against the perimeter of the square.

The UN chairwoman didn’t seem to know what to make of the scene either, so the Admiral took over stepping down the steps with his eyes on the older human, “Sargent!” He barked raising his voice to levels only humans were capable of. His powerful voice sent tremors through the air. The GA soldiers stepped back heads down. At the bottom of the stairs, the older human looked up from where he was examining the younger human, “Yes, Sir?”

“What in the HELL are you doing!”

The Sargent, still having a hand on the younger man’s shoulder responded, “Playing tag, Sir.”

The Admiral seemed taken aback by the answer, “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting the assembly chambers.”

“With all due respect, Sir.” He motioned towards the perimeter of the square, “Our presence here seems to be doing a good job against nonhuman invaders if, indeed there are any.”

A set of steel-grey eyes swept over the square taking note of cowering nonhuman soldiers, “And which one of you yahoos started this mess?”

There was a long silence before the young man at the front raised his hand, “It was me…. Sir.”

The admiral looked down his nose at the young man who had a hand against his head. He wobbled to his feet with the help of the older man.

“I know you…… Lieutenant Vir, isn’t it. The first contact kid.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want to explain to me why my men are playing tag instead of fulfilling their duty like they should be?”

Lieutenant Vir lifted his head though his eyes remained lowered guiltily to the floor, “It was my fault sir, I was bored, and I coerced the others into it.”

Over their heads, the red moon was beginning to sink towards the horizon, as the Admiral was shaking his head, “Lieutenant how old are you?”

“Twenty, Sir.”

The admiral sighed, “I suppose this is what we get for hiring children. Back to your ranks men.”

“Wait.” The voice broke quietly over the square, and to the surprise of the humans, the assembly woman stepped forward on her long, skinny legs, and dark robes. Her rather insectoid face looked unblinking at the group of them as she did so. Despite that, she had an air of command about her. Both the Sargent and the Lieutenant saluted her quickly. She turned to look at the admiral, “I think we deserve to understand the antics of your troops. From what I see, my soldiers appear threatened.” She turned her insectoid head back to the Lieutenant, “I would like to be assured that is not the case.”

The two humans were shaking their heads vigorously, and she jabbed a hand at the younger of the two, “You, the instigator, explain yourself.”

The lieutenant stammered for a moment before, “Of course madam charwoman …. I…. well what do you want me to explain, we were just playing a game.”

“My race is not familiar with this terminology.”

“Oh….” He rubbed the back of his head, “that’s kind of sad…. Um. So I Guess, you play a game, and a game is an activity with a specific set of rules that everyone who plays has to follow. We were playing Tag, and the rules of tag are there is one person who is “it” and their job is to touch someone, anyone to make that other person “it”. If you get touched by the “it” person than you are “it” and you have to pass it on to someone else, but you can’t tag the person who just tagged you…..”

The chairwoman eyed the young human skeptically as the last light of their red moon dipped before the horizon. The nonhuman troops were only now beginning to filter back to their position, “And what is the point of this?”

The young human floundered around for a moment mouth opening and closing with uncertainty, but the chairwoman waited until finally, “Well, ma’am humans need a couple of things that game playing fulfils. The first is stimulation, humans don’t like to be doing nothing, we weren’t built for that. We always have to have something for our brain to do, or all of our energy is translated into restlessness which makes us want to do something. Furthermore play results in social bonding with other members of our species. Children generally tend to use it to make friends and foster group cohesion. Adults tend to play differently than children, but the idea is the same….. Social cohesion. It helps us to get along.”

“And why are my troops cowering in fear?”

The young man shrugged, “Can’t say I know ma’am…. I suppose some evolutionary scientists theorize that games like that are a way for young humans to practice predatory hunting behaviors, but….. well we don’t hunt like that anymore and haven’t for millions of years…… so….. it doesn’t really apply.”

The galactic assembly would remain unconvinced of this last assumption. Weather humans were willing to recognize it or not, they are predators, and they will never be able to shake their predatory nature. Humans love chasing things, tracking things with their eyes, and attempting to dominate each other. Take a look at human behavior the next time you see one, everything they do is shaped by their predatory nature, and the entire galaxy fears what it could mean.

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is space australia

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