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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Note

hey, could you do a fic on how would the bad batch react to Omega's first period? idk if you've done it already, but i love your writing and you describe the characters really well!

I haven't actually written for Omega yet so I'm excited to dive into this one! Definitely love the single dad energy (x5... because in this house we pretend Crosshair was never left behind and it's the big happy family we all deserve)

Omega & The Bad Batch | 1.3k words

Omega closed her eyes in an effort to stop the wave of anxiety that rose in her chest. But when she reopened them, she was met with that scary red stain again.

She was so confused. She didn't remember getting hurt. She wasn't in any pain. Where was this blood coming from? And how was she going to get it to stop? She really didn't want to have to tell the team about this. They already worried about her over every little thing. If she could just figure out what was wrong first....

A sudden knock at the refresher door startled her. Her heart raced as she heard Hunter on the other side.

"Omega? You alright in there?"

She could hear the concern in his voice and it made her panic. She quickly flushed the toilet and fumbled with her clothes.

"Uh, yeah... yeah, I'm okay, Hunter... Everything's fine. Almost done!"

Hunter wasn't fooled. He rarely was, much to her annoyance.

"Omega," he said evenly, "if there's something wrong, you need to let me help you."

"Nothing's wrong!" she said quickly, starting to turn in circles, unsure what else to do. She should probably put something down there to stop the bleeding, right? Until she could figure out what else to do about it.

"You're hurt, I can tell..."

She was unrolling a wad of toilet paper and paused as she remembered the Sergeant's heightened senses. There would be no hiding this. But she would have to try anyway.

She unlatched the refresher door, letting it swoosh open to reveal Hunter's hardened gaze looking down at her. She quickly stepped out and started making her way around him toward her bunk, careful to keep the toilet paper out of his eyesight.

"I'm not hurt. See? Everything's fine. Just using the fresher like everyone does. No big deal."

Her scene with Hunter was starting to attract the attention of the others. Tech and Echo peered down the hall from their seats in the cockpit while Crosshair and Wrecker paused their daily weapons cleaning to watch.

"You're hiding... toilet paper," said Crosshair, perceptive as ever.

"And I know you're bleeding," said Hunter. "What did you do?"

Omega paused just below the ladder up to her little room. His comment made her snap. Why was he always assuming she was getting into trouble? It didn't matter that she'd been with them a few years now and had more than proven herself as an equal member of the squad. He was still suspicious and way too over-protective.

"I said I'm fine, Hunter!" she shouted. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

She climbed the ladder as forcefully as she could and threw the little curtain closed. She wasn't sure why she felt so angry, so emotional. It'd been like this for a few days now, where even the smallest things frustrated her, and she hated she couldn't control it. She didn't want any of them to think of her as a child anymore and these emotional outbursts certainly weren't helping. She clutched the toilet paper to her face and cried softly in it, forgetting about her little predicament for the moment.

On the other side of curtain, Hunter had moved to follow her up the ladder with an exasperated call of her name, but Tech stopped him.

"Hunter," he called from the cockpit.

"She's hurt, Tech," Hunter huffed over his shoulder, one hand on a ladder rung. He need only go up one step before reaching eye level with the curtain.

"Yeah," agreed Wrecker, ready to follow after her as well. "We need to help her."

Tech shook his head. "The best way to help her in this case is to understand her."

Hunter and Wrecker paused in their journey to look back at their brother, holding up a holopad in his usual signal of having more information than them. They shared a look before reluctantly changing course to see what Tech had to say. Even Echo and Crosshair were leaning forward in curiosity.

"I started researching after Omega mentioned having pains in her abdomen yesterday. Coupled with her more sensitive emotions lately and the odd blemishes that have appeared on her face, I wondered if it wasn't all connected somehow."

Tech looked between all of them, dragging the explanation out as he always did, delighting in being the one to teach them something. Usually Hunter could ignore his brother's theatrics, but he was already on edge knowing Omega was hurt. He couldn't be so patient now.

"And?" he prompted with an annoyed furrow to his brow.

"There are a few explanations, but your mention of bleeding has confirmed my primary suspicion. Omega has started what is known as her menses."

The others only blinked in response. Tech held back a self-important smirk and continued to explain.

"You are all familiar with the concept of puberty, yes?"

They nodded slowly. Even with their accelerated growth, the clones had still experienced a degree of it.

"Well, with girls, it is accompanied by the start of their menstrual cycle, which is a process by which the body naturally discards the inner lining of the uterus, roughly every twenty-eight rotations. It is ultimately a sign that pregnancy has not occurred."

The air in the small space of the ship immediately became anxious as the others fully processed Tech's words.

"Oh."

"Uh...."

"Hmm."

"Oh my..."

Tech pushed his glassed up matter-of-factly, the only one unbothered by such things. "It's a natural bodily process for most female humans. And it does lead to the other symptoms we've been noticing from Omega. The cramps, the pimples, etc. All a normal part of the process."

"Is that true?"

It was Omega's voice that reached them, and they all turned to see her timidly standing nearby. It was clear she had overheard enough of Tech's lecture so that it wouldn't have to be repeated.

"It really is normal?"

"You know if Tech says so, then it must be true," said Echo with a friendly smile, the first to recover from the awkwardness, mostly to throw in a little jab at Tech.

Hunter found himself feeling guilty. Looking at how shy and scared Omega stood before them, he knew she was going to need their full support in figuring out this strange new part of herself.

"And it's nothing to be worried about," he affirmed, instinctually bending lower to face her, even though she was getting tall enough now where he didn't really need to do that. "I'm sorry I upset you earlier. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I know," she said, wiping at her eyes. "And I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"So what do we do about it?" asked Wrecker. "She's just going to be bleeding forever?"

"Of course not," said Tech, his voice edged with annoyance. "Didn't you listen? It's a cycle. It'll run its course over the next several days, and then she'll be fine for about another month. It varies from person to person... In fact... You should probably have a calendar to track it, Omega."

While Tech got up to dig around in a chest of old holopads, Echo leaned over to look at the scans on the ship.

"There's an outpost only one short jump away, near a human-inhabited planet. Surely there will be some special supplies for this sort of thing there."

"And if you still need to blow off steam," said Crosshair, "we can test out that new blaster I got on those old clanker heads."

"Okay," said Omega, perking up with every offer of help from the boys. "I'm also kind of hungry..."

"I got you covered there, kid," winked Wrecker.

Hunter placed his hand on her shoulder. "We've all got you, Omega. We'll figure this out together."

She started tearing up again, only this time it was in relief. What had started as something scary and mysterious and embarrassing, had now turned into a rally of support and love from her team. Her family.

It also seemed like a great opportunity to be spoiled a little... She'd have to work on figuring that part out herself....

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #omega #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #cw: periods #my sweet baby girl #found family #i'm feeling creative in this chilis tonight

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ladykatakuri · 3 years

Text

Coming Home to You

Echo x F Reader

Word count: 2363

Warnings: None really, it has some mentioning of nightmares and sadness and some fluffyness

I used the lyrics of a song to enhance the story i wanted to tell here.

Song: Sleep well my angel by We are the Fallen

Summary: Echo never thought he would ever dance with someone again, until you. He loved you there and then and it only became more

Watching you sleep for so long,

Knowing I can't turn the rain into sun any more

I've given you all that I have,

Now I stand here, too scared to hold your hand.

Afraid you might wake to see

The monster that had to leave

Echo stood in front of you, staring at your soft face with a sad smile. This beautiful person, soft smile on her face while asleep and his greatest love. But despite the deep and intense love that only grew stronger with each passing day, he felt he had to leave, deep inside himself. He was not the same man he once was, the Techno Union made sure of that.

When he was taken by them and they changed his body, something inside of him died. There was no escape, only the off chance of death for him and it was what he longed for the most. He had given up on being rescued and made peace with himself. If he could stop them from abusing his body and mind by dying, then it was alright. He might have even safed his brothers with his death.

Then one day he was found. Found by his brothers, by a crew of misfits and his captain who he admired greatly. Broken and no longer the man he once was, he was safed and had the smallest amount of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to live again. It took a long time to really recover physically and at times he still would find himself wondering how he could have adjusted to the loss of limbs and a normal body. But here he was, alive and with a new family. He still had nightmares and many regrets. His closest friend and brother had died without him around to at least say goodbye. Fives was no longer there to lift his spirit when he felt down in the dumps, but the memory of his fallen brother was greatly treasured and could at times still put a smile on his face.

Then he met you. A waitress at 79s, always kind, smiling and always ready to make him and his brothers feel welcome. Make them all feel like actual human beings. You never treated them as nothing more than canon fodder or throw away human replicants, clones. To you they were all normal people with names and personalities. You even helped them find their own uniqueness and expres it at times, by painting their armor or figuring out what kind of tattoo would suit them. It blew him away when he first spoke to you and you just smiled at him with that bright and soft smile of yours. You grabbed his comp link as if it was his normal hand and dragged him to the dancefloor. Echo never thought he would ever dance with someone again, until you. He loved you there and then and it only became more, a deeper love and a deeper respect as well. From that moment on it was you and him. You helped him through his nightmares and his insecurities, helped him fight off the flashes of memories that sometimes came all of a sudden and would paralyze him in his tracks. You gave him his space when he needed to be on his own to work through his pain and personal hell, but always nearby when he needed to be caught after falling deep.

' Cause you see the shelter as the storm

Holding wind to keep you on,

You are everything to me, this is why I have to leave,

So sleep well my angel.

“Echo….. Don't leave me….” Four words, muttered in your sleep, but to Echo it was heartbreaking. You had felt something coming, realised that he was struggling more than ever before and even though he smiled and loved you as before, there was something different within. He kept a part of him hidden away from you and though you never said anything about it, you did know. Now, Echo was standing there, staring at the only person in the galaxy he loved more than life itself and he was drinking in your features for the last time. He had to go, you have sheltered him, acted as his shelter through all the storms raging in his mind, but now it was time to protect you from the last person he thought would be hurting you, himself.

Gently bending over you, Echo brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and softly brushes with his lips over yours. You sigh and a smile forms on your lips once more. As you automatically reach to the pillow next to you where he usually lays, Echo whispers. “Sleep well my angel.” One tear slowly falls down his cheek as he turns to leave the room and the only place he truly called home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Under the ash and the lies,

Something beautiful once here now dies,

And the tears burn my eyes,

As you sit there, all alone.

I just want to come home,

It had been several weeks since you last saw Echo. The only explanation you had for his sudden disappearance was a small note and a dried flower that he left on your desk.

Y/N,

I can never tell you how much you mean to me, how much you healed my heart. You stayed with me in the good times and when I went through my darkest moments. I love you more than I could ever say, that is why I had to leave. This is the only way to keep you from falling with me. My love for you is eternal, my wish for your happiness is the reason I ask you to think of me, not with hate but with the gentle smile you always have when thinking about the good times. Be happy my angel.

Always,

Echo

You kept the letter and the dried flower in a small wooden box in your desk. Sometimes you would look at it and cry, most times you tried your hardest to ignore the nagging feeling to take it out and hold it against your heart while in bed. At times you would just sit at your desk when memories flushed your mind and your tears fell without you even noticing it until much later. You would wonder why your cheeks were wet and then remember what it was you were thinking of. “Echo…” Just the mentioning of his name could be enough for you to be withdrawn all day and night, to stay in bed for hours or not get dressed and just sit on your couch as you blankly stare at a holo. Sometimes you would forget to eat and if it were not for your caf addiction, you would also forget to drink, but most times it was just the memory of pain and sadness, mixed with deep love and missing him that were ever present within you as you continued your daily life.

Now you were sitting at a table in a small diner somewhere on Coruscant. It was a nice and calm time to be there and you enjoyed those moments where you could calmly sip your caf, take a bite from your food and doodle away on a padd with the person sitting in front of you. “You know, it would help if you had a better picture of Numa. Now I can only guess the colour of her headdress.” Smiling, you look at the man in front of you when a shiver runs down your spine. You had those at times, at first you believed it was because Echo would be nearby and you would look around the place to find him. Then, when you realised he was never around, you just shrugged it off and moved on. Boil reached over the table and handed you a small piece of paper. “This is it Y/N, thanks for helping me out. I really want to have it on my armor.”

From a small distance. Echo was looking at you. Staring would be a better word to describe it. From the moment he left you behind with only his letter and small gift he felt terrible. His nightmares seemed to have gotten worse and not even his brothers were able to calm him anymore.

Hunter urged him to go back to you and finally talk to you, really talk to you, about everything he went through and still is. But, how could he explain to you that each time he would wake from his nightmares, he would be parazlyzed with fear? That he would see couples happily walk along the boardwalks, holding hands and smiling, dancing to music while in the back of his mind, he knew he was not all man and never enough of a man for you? How he saw you smile when you would see children play and he did not even know if he could ever make you a mother?

Tech would come with explanations as to why he felt this way, why his emotions were all over the place and even came with options for treatment, without having to report it to the doctors back at Kamino. If they were to find out how deep his emotions went, he would most likely be decommissioned or mind wiped. Neither were options to him, because they would mean losing you permanently. At Least now, he could still see you , even if it was from a distance and it pained him immensely.

Wrecker pulled him into a strong hug while he mentioned being his brother and always being there for him. That he could always find him if he needed to talk or wanted to vent by hitting him, or blowing something up. He might not seem like it, but Wrecker had many layers to him and the happy go lucky, destruction loving man was only the surface layer of him. He was always good at cheering up people and making them feel safe.

It was Crosshair that actually helped him decide what he truly wanted. “Just go to her and apologize. You wanna go home right? Stop being a coward and go home.” Flicking his toothpick at him while smirking, Crosshair walked off and left Echo at the diner where he saw you. Crosshair had brought him exactly where he needed to be and the moment he saw you, he knew, he did want to come home. And home is you.

Boil was happy with the work the two of you had done to his helmet. He finally had a small drawing of Numa on it that you helped him draw and color to honor the little sister he and Waxer had pretty much adopted back on Ryloth. Hugging you goodbye, he left with a grin and proudly pulled his helmet down over his head. Now you are back on your own again, ordering another caf. Suddenly a shadow falls over you.

When you look up, you stare into brown eyes, eyes that look at you with deep emotions of regret, fear and love.

“Echo….” Mouth open in amazement you see the man you missed for so long, you longed for and hated at the same time and who is now standing in front of you. “What…? What are you doing here?” You don't know what to make of this, he left you with a letter and a dried flower as a goodbye and while his brothers did stay in touch as much as they could, he never contacted you again. The guys could not tell you exactly what had happened but you knew they did not agree with his actions either, though they would never tell you.

I'm sorry

You see the shelter as the storm,

Holding wind to keep you on,

You are everything to me, this is why

“I`m sorry. I`m sorry, I`m so sorry…..” A tear falls from his eye as he stares at you and his body seems to tremble. You look up at the love of your life as he keeps on apologizing to you, body shaking, head almost exploding with all the emotions that run through you. You do the only thing you can do, you grab his hand and pull him down to your level and kiss him. Full on the lips with the diner as your witness you kiss this man that has been the love of your life all along, who you knew was going through more than you would ever be able to fully understand.

Surprised by your actions, Echo returns your sudden kiss and pulls back. A watery smile forms as he grabs for a chair and sits down next to you. “I…. I don't know how to explain….”

You raise your hand and stop him from talking. “Echo, how could you think I wouldn't understand? I knew my love. The nightmares, the anger and how sometimes you just had to be on your own or with your brothers? I knew and I know.” Suddenly, to his great surprise, you punch him on the arm. “How could you think I wouldn't understand?! I hated you when you just left in the middle of the night! I mean…. I know why you did it, even if you hadn't explained in that letter, but you should have known I understood! You kriffing idiot!” Tears freely fall as you lash out lovingly and Echo quickly grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his arms. Sitting you on his lap, not paying any attention to the other guests of the diner he kisses you. Arms wrapped around you, your head tugged against his neck, you feel his lips brush your ear as he whispers, “I love you my angel. We`ll work through it, I`ll work through it. Always.”

The diner guests clap when they realise what had happened and outside, just out of sight, four men grin and high five as they walk off towards a well known bar to celebrate the happy ending for their brother.

@loth-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @reluctant-mandalore @nahoney22

#echo x reader #echo the clone wars #echo the bad batch #Song lyrics fic #Coming home to You

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mandoalorian · 4 years

Text

Found Family [Din Djarin x Reader]

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mention of anxiety, slight angst and feelings of guilt, general Star Wars lore.

Author's note: short and sweet because I'm super excited for the Mandalorian season two! Only five days away! Enjoy!

Translations:

Mesh'la - beautiful

Cyar'ika - darling/sweetheart

Aliit - family

MASTERLIST

You sunk into the co-pilot seat of the Crest, feeling a wash of anxiety flood over you. You awaited the Mandalorian to return to the cockpit— he was just checking on the child. The child was unconscious after mustering up all of that mysterious energy he whelmed to save your life. The child saved your life at the risk of losing his own. You couldn't understand it.

You crossed your arms over your chest and as you heard his footsteps near you, your heart rate increased speed. With every heavy footstep he took, the armoury hung on the walls clattered. Without a hitch or a noise, he slid into the pilot seat, setting destination back to Nevarro before flicking a few buttons and pulling a lever down. You felt the Crest bolt forward as it lifted from the ground and into the air.

For the first few minutes, you both sat in silence. Glancing down at Din’s vibroknife, pushed into his holster, you figured you could use it to cut the tension that hung in the air. You fumbled around with your fingers, trying to just focus on the journey ahead— but your mind was wandering. "Din…" your voice was merely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

He didn't reply. You saw the dirt stained leather of his gloves tighten around his fingers as he flexed them over the nav system. You waited a moment, in desperate hope he’d say something. Anything. But not a single word came from his mouth. The guilt you were feeling was surreal. "Please…" you said softly, closing your eyes and sending a silent prayer to the Maker. In this moment, you had wished for an Imperial Star Destroyer to come out of lightspeed and blast you into a billion pieces. You wanted a black hole to swallow you up.

You had never seen Din so angry. Of course, you hadn't even seen him without his helmet before but— it was in his movements. The negative energy resonated with the way he walked, the lack of communication, his stiffness...

"I… I didn't mean it." You promised Din, finally earning a modulated grunt from him as he briefly shook his head in disbelief. He didn't move. He didn't turn to you. His eyes were still locked on the route ahead. "You were gone for so long."

It was hardly an excuse and you knew it, but you were just trying to swindle some kind of response from him. You couldn’t stand the silent treatment. Din had gone on a very important bounty three days ago. Sure, he told you to wait by the ship, but as time went on and the nights got colder… you felt an ache in your heart. Pent up worry. What if something had happened to him? You and Din had never discussed such contingency plans before. Did he just expect you to wait at the Crest for the rest of your life? On a planet as dangerous as Felucia? It wasn’t like you could pilot a ship as unique as the Razor Crest. You relied on Din and you had to know if he was okay.

It just so happened, as you left the Crest that afternoon, Din and the child were on their way back. And thank the Maker for that. Carrying the child in his satchel, Din raced through the vibrant floral forest - blaster in hand - shooting at the running bounty. You heard his blaster first, stopping abruptly in your footsteps, your boots crunching in the autumnal orange leaves that laid beneath you. You heard running, followed by further blaster bolts. Hurtling towards you was a fair skinned man dressed in what could only be described as ex-Imperial uniform, a crimson red cape loosely tied around his neck. You froze up as his cold eyes bore into you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t move. You were stuck. The man dived on top of you, pushing you backwards into the mud and slamming his hand over your mouth. You shuffled helplessly underneath him, trying to rid yourself from his grip - but it was no use. You wanted to cry.

Din hurried towards you, his heart sinking when he saw his bounty straddling you. Seeing the bounty reach in his pocket and grab a knife, he held it to your throat. Din dropped his blaster and scrambled to get his pulse rifle out of his pocket. The little green ears of the child poked out of Din’s satchel and engulfed the image of you being held hostage by the bounty. The child raised his hand and closed his eyes. It was that mysterious energy again. The bounty froze up, knife in hand, just inches away from your neck. It gave Din enough time to wield his pulse rifle and set it for stun. Instantaneously, Din shot him. As the man fell limp on your body, so did the child, falling back into the satchel - unconscious. Din ran towards you, hap-hazardly pushing the man off you and kneeling by your side. “Kriff, are you alright?” He asked, cupping your cheek with his hand. “What happened?”

Dazed, you tried to refocus your eyes on the Mandalorian who was kneeling before you. “H-had been gone for days,” you said, forcing yourself to sit up and dust the dried up mud off your clothes the best you can. “Was worried.”

“So you left the Crest and came looking for me? Are you out of your mind?” Din raised his voice and you began to feel the guilt pool up in your stomach. “Did you not, for one second, consider your own safety? Look at you,” Din scoped your body. “Didn’t even bring a weapon.”

With a heated sigh, Din stood up and began walking away from you. Confused and with a little wobble, you scrambled to your feet before chasing after the Mandalorian. “I- I didn’t plan on going far,” you told the bounty hunter. “I just had to see if you were nearby.”

The Mandalorian didn’t speak a word to you until you had both returned back to the Razor Crest later that night. The memory of what had happened earlier that day felt like a dagger in Din’s heart. He couldn’t stay mad at you for too long. You were foolish, yes, but he knew you didn’t have any bad intentions. Din contemplated for a moment before finally deciding to part his lips.

"And I gave you specific instructions to wait here for me." His voice was cold, but you breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he was talking to you.

"You had never been gone this long before," you informed him. You felt ashamed, embarrassed. Not only had you done a really silly thing, but you had done it against the will of one of the most esteemed bounty hunters in the parsec. "And the child…"

"You would've died," he deadpanned. "If it wasn't for me, you would've died." You couldn't count on it, but you were sure that you heard his voice break slightly as he spat out those words. And it was true. If Din hadn’t been on the tail of the bounty then who knows what would’ve happened to you.

"I know, Din." you couldn't find excuses. You knew it would just get you into more trouble.

More silence filled up the cockpit. "And what would I do if you had died?" He paused, realising he might be sounding only a touch selfish. "What about the kid? He needs you." You placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing small circles in a comforting manner. "I need you." he revealed, looking down at your fingers and letting his gaze follow up to your arm and to your face. You were still looking down at the ground when he removed his hand from the steering device and tilted your chin upwards. "Look at me, mesh'la." His voice was low and rasp.

You looked up at him, blinking a few times to try and rid yourself of the guilty tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I'm sorry Din." you repeated, hoping he could find the genuine sorrow in your voice.

"He- he was an ex-Imperial warlord. A big name in the Empire," Din informed you, gesturing to the back of the ship at his bounty who had only recently been frozen in carbonite. "People like him… they're dangerous. Do you know what they would do if they got their hands on someone like you? Someone as beautiful as yourself?" Din cursed in Mando’a under his breath and you shuffled in your chair uncomfortably. "Yeah…" Din's voice said, sensing your discomfort. "Fuck, it would be bad."

"I know Din." you wiped a tear from your eye. You didn't know the Mandalorian cared for you this much. You supposed it was because neither of you had ever been faced with a situation quite like this before. It really put things into perspective.

"Stormtroopers are one thing," Din conceded. "I've been to places. Seen things. Warlords like him hide on outer-rim planets, hiding in palaces being worshipped by the low ranked ex-Imps. Oh, they'd love someone like you in the outer-rim. Such a pretty thing. They'd keep you as a slave, for sure."

You winced at the revelation. You had heard of such stories, and you could only imagine how worse it would’ve been under New Republic rule. Imperial hide outs had always been scattered around the outer-rim but now, after the Empire had fallen, the New Republic seemingly ignored everything that wasn’t in the core or deep core. That’s what made bounties so dangerous, especially this one to Felucia. Crime syndicates patrolled the planet and you should’ve known better. The Mandalorian had put his trust in you, but you had failed him. "Din…” your voice was small and meek, almost shying away from him. “None of that has happened to me. I'm safe. I'm here. With you."

Din sunk back into his pilot chair and breathed a sigh of relief at your words. You were right. You were safe, and that's all that mattered. And Din was more than happy to take rest on Nevarro for a day or so before getting back on the move. He knew the return of this warlord would earn him enough credits that he could justify a day off.

From such a young and tender age, Din had lost everything. He never spoke of his parents; only once, and the discussion was very brief. You didn’t think it was appropriate to ask questions although your curiosity always peaked when it came to Din and his past. Nevertheless, he knew he valued family and his Creed more than anything else in the world. And his love for the child was immeasurable. To serve as a reminder, and hopefully provide him comfort, you were struck with an idea.

You got out of your chair and sauntered back to the ship, picking up the sleeping child from his cot and cradling him in your arms. You brought him back to the cockpit and watched the foundling as he stirred slightly, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Still asleep, he cooed quietly, and an air of satisfaction relished over you knowing that he wasn’t injured.

"What are you doing?" Din asked.

"What is that thing you always say?" you asked, cupping your hand gently around the child's face. "Aliit…"

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din," Din whispered, extending his arm and pulling you onto his lap. He draped his strong arms around your waist and peeked over your shoulder at the sleeping child. "Family is more than blood." he translated.

You rest your head in the crook of Din's neck, feeling a slight warmth radiate from under his beskar. You let your fingers trace the signet on his shoulder. "Clan of three." You smiled.

"Cyar'ika," Din hummed, taking in your scent and enjoying the close proximity of you sat on his lap holding his son. "Please, promise me you'll never do anything as stupid as that ever again."

"I promise Din." you shuffled around, just a little, but enough to be able to face Din.

The Mandalorian leaned his forehead against you, the coldness of his helmet making you shiver. He pressed a keldable kiss into your skin. "Clan of three." he confirmed, voice low and modulated. His grip on your back tightened and in that moment he swore that he would protect you and the child with his life.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian season 2

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oneofyatosfollowers · 3 years

Text

Yatori Week 2021: Day 1

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

God and Mortal

Whether they know it or not, a god falls in love with the first humans they see.

For most gods, they appear in their original place of worship, where their belief is the strongest. It's the mortals that stand before them that fills those gods with hope and with purpose, with happiness. But when it came to The Yaboku God, a minor deity in every sense of the word, the human that stood before him when he appeared, was the only one. Still, baby blue eyes blinked even wider at the sight of his believer. His purpose. His future. The man scooped him up and sang his praise to the god all the same, filling the tiny child with such happiness.

It was unfortunate that the happiness this tiny god was filled with, was poisoned. Coming from a toxic man who did not worship the god in the honest way a human was supposed to. In fact, this human wasn’t anything like he was supposed to be. This human had the same build as the rest, if not a bit larger. He had the same intelligence, if not even more so. Yet this human was special. The man commanded the demons that yielded to no man or god. He named dead spirits and created gods. This man had a talent for shattering the glass ceilings set before him by the very universe.

As a product of his wish, Yaboku was similar to the man in many ways. This man who raised him. He was just as on the cusp of a taboo existence, a black hole compared to the shining stars around him, beautiful in a terrifying way yet just as powerful. A God of Calamity. Obeying the man who wanted to defy the world’s laws all on his own, a dark mass filled with poison yet fighting to remain holy. Soon Yaboku would realize that he was just as empty as his creator. That he would work forever to fill empty buckets with happiness while it dripped out the holes of their hearts, neither of them getting what they truly wanted.

Before the god would come to that realization, before the child could even begin to give it thought, he would meet another human. She wasn’t a mortal, not like their father, yet he was told she was once human. The girl, a young child like him who was named and bound to the same man, was even less human than their father. A spirit of the dead mixed with that of a demon. She held no memories, no emotion, no hope. But she was human, understanding of that mortality. Yaboku could tell she was human because he wanted so badly to make her smile, her happiness is what fulfilled his purpose. They got along, at least Yaboku thought they did, laughing as those with tight bonds often did. She was strong like their father, in a way that he wasn’t. Her heart never broke, she never wept over the loss of objects or other humans, she saw the larger goal and held herself to a higher standard. His family was something Yaboku would be proud of.

That was, until Yaboku realized the true meaning of the word mortal and how different they were from them. The next human he met was just like the first two, it that she was nothing like them. This human laughed often, like Yaboku, was happy to do things with him and often asked what his thoughts were. His needs. That was odd, his family didn’t do that, but Yaboku figured that was just how she was. He didn’t think too much of it because she was happy which made him happy, so his existence was full. But she taught them there was a difference, a line. It wasn’t that living humans were prey and he was the hunter, it was that they were mortal while he was an existence. His second spirit, bound to the name he gave, took his hand and broadened his horizons. Life was snuffed out easily, mortality is what moved the world yet it was linear to each person that had it. A god was never ending, reincarnating, a constant feeling and existence until it wasn’t. A mortal, a person, lived on in the hearts of those that knew them long after their soul was severed by Yaboku’s blade.

Like most gods, Yato grew until his appearance suited the purpose he was born for. With the loss of his second shinki filling the holes of his heart with scars, Yato was left with the painful poison of his believers. It had been difficult for Yato to live with the knowledge of that line, understanding that he, himself, was not happiness. He knew that mortals were precious, that their lives were unique and easily wiped away, yet he also understood that they were strong. That they endured heartbreak, loss, famine, disease. If whatever they faced didn’t kill them, they would continue down that linear path with even more strength. He still couldn’t understand why his creator and shinki wanted to wipe out every single existence just to get back at those above like him, but that fact alone made up his never ending existence. And that was more painful than anything a mortal could understand.

Mortals weren’t perfect, if his family was anything to go by. His father was hardly the only one hell-bent on eliminating those of his own kind. Yato found that humans struggled with the mortal law of right and wrong. Even if they had the approval of an existence beyond that, a god, they still struggled to have any sort of validation for their actions. An excuse to relive some of the overwhelming guilt of their sins. Mortals were fickle, their memories, their bodies, their morals. As a black hole, it was Yaboku’s job to take on their sins and guilt as his own and hold it within his hollow husk of a heart. They would mix and mingle with the darkness he was made of and fit right at home, just as he was meant to do. This was happiness.

Yet he always noticed the other side. What he was missing. The other gods with all their glowing light and wholesome believers with their honest wishes. Sometimes Yaboku would come in contact with these people. Even have the pleasure of solving their mediocre problems. It could get aggravating to see them fret over such minor things when his entire existence drowned him in a sloppy toxic blackness. Yet it felt nice to be able to solve a problem and for it to go away for good. He felt the gashes in his heart close up a little bit more when the meaningful mortals showered him with gratitude. It was when he waved those happy mortals goodbye, never to be heard from again, that Yato realized that they too had darkness. But despite that they went about their lives without holes in their hearts. That he, with all the emptiness of his father, was an existence with a dripping, bleeding heart.

Yato had made friends with humans throughout his existence. Both living and dead. They were far and few in between- being an assassin tended to isolate him from others- and that was enough. A couple shinki who needed him to shoulder their sins and wipe away their problems. There was also that old fisherman that told the same stories while Yato worked with him by the southern sea. That princess that Yato was to guard until her marriage, who loved the outfits he made. The man who claimed to be a samurai who could always drink him under the table. Those brothers in arms that fought alongside him in matching uniforms when they were far, far too young. And that forgien girl that spun him around the dance floor, gave him a kiss, and let him marry her for nothing but fun before she found her soulmate in a different foreigner. All of them gave him a handful of happy memories that clinked painfully around his chest like five yen coins in a tattered pocket. He enjoyed them, was proud to carry them, but didn’t put too much stock into them. At least until he met her.

She was a believer. An honest to god believer that prayed to him, understood who he was, and had all the good intentions of a proper wish. Her heart was not only solid but strong and her intelligence held a wisdom that only a proper mortal could. Like all humans, she was different than every other yet she was special. It wasn’t just her life that was precious. She was precious, in both the grand scheme of things as a mortal to god and everyday. Hiyori Iki was a human who filled Yato with happiness, filled his heart until it felt so full he could only describe it as contentment. She was everything he asked for and nothing he could possibly have imagined. Yato found he didn’t want anything more than her smile just like a proper god should.

And as a god- her god as she said- he loved her. It was a love that grew with time and effort rather than that wistful first sight god’s felt for their believers. Yato loved her in every sense of the word. The love of a god to their believers, an eternal existence to a mortal one, a close family member, a friend sharing wonderful things with, a person to call their own and hold. Since meeting Hiyori, Yato could feel a bit of what it was like to be an existence that served humanity properly; as a kind-hearted beacon of light and comfort, filled with nothing but honest love. Of course that was silly. Yato was Yaboku and Yaboku was a god and Hiyori was precious and humans were mortal. The universe didn’t like it when someone stepped over that line when they weren’t supposed to.

Which is why The Yaboku God will have to continue his existence, re-learning how to be content with yearning. Knowing that he will always carry nothing but darkness, a container that will never be full, forever unable to have what those around him were simply blessed with. But you know what? That was alright. Yato was proud to smile with a broken heart if it meant he got to serve all her wishes and be her God of Fortune. If all Yato had to do for Hiyori Iki to be able to live out the full length of her precious life was to bear the weight of all the darkness of the world, then he was more than happy to do so.

#yatori #yatori week #yatori week 2021 #noragami #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction #yato #yatogami #hiyori #iki hiyori #hiyori iki #yukine #noragami manga #noragami manga spoilers

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

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written for suptober day 27: banquet

wc: 1.1k, tags: angst (sorta), mcd (but it’s happy?), how tf do i describe this, enby!jack though :)

It had become a tradition of sorts. A way to keep the memory alive. They tried to do it every year, but that didn’t always work out. Still, when it did happen, it was always beautiful. Loud, boisterous, tragic, drunken, but beautiful.

It had been Donna’s idea. What better way to remember the Winchesters than this? Jody had gone along with it, and soon their banquet was the largest gathering of hunters America had ever seen.

Jody liked to picture their reaction to it.

Jack, of course, would love it. Their eyes would light up as they looked around, drinking in everything. They’d love the abundant food and drink, love the laughter. They’d love the late night bonfire where things got a little quieter, more somber. They would let it wash over them, experiencing it fully, just like they did with everything in life.

Cas would probably be confused. Wonder why anyone wanted to remember him. He would insist that all the festivities, all the memories, be centered on Sam and Dean, maybe Jack. He’d never liked being the center of attention. But Jody thought he would appreciate it too. Would smile. Because he’d made a difference in this world, and there was no way in hell she was letting him forget that.

Sam would probably laugh, but tear up a little. He’d roll his eyes at the excess of beer and whiskey, frown at the kids who were there, wishing they could escape the life. But overall, he’d probably look into the mass of flannel and just laugh. Because here was their legacy, so many years later. What they’d done, what they’d sacrificed getting rid of Chuck, it had been worth it. And their friends knew it.

Dean was a bit of a wildcard. Jody knew him well, really well, but she’d never been quite able to get a read on him. He kept everything so close to his chest, so close to his heart, that figuring him out took guts. He’d trusted her with a lot, though. Some things that he didn’t even tell Sam. And she liked to think he would appreciate this. Would appreciate the world going on without them. But more would appreciate that people still remembered them, still saw what they’d done.

And that’s what she tried to picture every year as she and Donna dealt with the overwhelming logistics of getting 50+ hunters in the same place. She saw their faces, pictured the world without them, and dealt with all the damn bureaucracy.

This year the banquet was on the 10th anniversary of the Winchesters death. It was poetic in the cruelest way that they all died together. Cas, taken by the Empty just hours before the final showdown because… well she didn’t like to think about that. He and Dean could have been so happy together. And Sam and Dean had refused to let Jack die alone. They knew that them dying was the only way, and as much as they wanted to save their kid, they couldn’t. So they went with them.

Ten years later, and the world was so much better for it. For the sacrifice they’d made.

They were gathered at an old ranch in Minnesota--Donna’s grandfather had owned it--and it was well below freezing outside. None of them moved as they huddled around the fire though, smoke billowing above them.

They’d told hours worth of stories.

Claire had talked about the stuffed animal Cas had gotten her. She’d even passed it around the circle. It was a little faded now and the ears were starting to fall off, but it still made her smile. When it’d come back around to her, Kaia had taken it and softly smoothed it’s fur before tucking it back into the bag and slipping her cold hand into Claire’s. She knew her wife would never admit it, but sharing that with everyone else had taken courage. She never really talked about Cas outside these gatherings.

Garth had talked about hunting the shōjō with the Winchesters. He had stood up and acted out their drunken stumbling, causing laughter to ring out in the silent night. When he’d sat down, he’d gone quiet. But no one else spoke, just waited breathlessly for him to continue. He had looked at Beth, taken a deep breath and a swig of beer, and shook his head before softly muttering that he missed them.

The mood had gotten heavier after that, stories being spoken in whispers to avoid disturbing the stars. Everyone had something, even if they’d never met the boys or Cas and Jack. They’d all heard the legendary tales, some exaggerated and some not even close to the insanity of the reality in which they’d lived.

And then after a while, everyone went quiet. No one knew who was the last to speak, but the silence settled over them like a blanket.

They just sat, staring into the dying embers, shivering as a slight wind picked up, and remembered the family that had defied all odds and saved the world over and over and over.

They remembered Lucifer’s child that had grown to be so much more than that. Had grown into immense power and handled it all with the humility of a saint.

They remembered the angel who’d fallen in every way imaginable. Who’d fallen from grace, fallen to Earth, fallen in love. Who’d chosen free will over the will of God.

They remembered the hunter who just wanted out. Who wanted to become a lawyer. They remembered his undying thirst for knowledge, his righteous anger, his unending compassion for those around him.

They remembered the hunter who’d done everything for family. Who was smarter than he thought he was. Who had devoted his whole life to caring for his younger brother.

And as the fire faded completely, a strange sort of peace settled over the group. They trickled off one by one, murmuring hushed goodnights, and headed back to the warmth of the house in the distance.

When they’d all gone, Jody stayed behind to make sure the fire went out. Donna offered to keep her company of course, but she just shrugged and smiled softly.

The glow of the embers was soft, but in the darkness of the open air, they stood out starkly. She watched them for a while, watched their ebb and flow, and before she knew it, tears were tracking down her frosty cheeks. She wiped them away and looked away from the smoke stinging her eyes to the stars.

She didn’t know where the Winchesters were. Well, Cas was in the Empty… but none of their relationships with death had ever been able to be described as normal. She hoped they’d found some semblance of peace.

The world had been darker without them. Harder to live in. But she’d kept going, she had to. They’d made this worthless rock floating in space mean something when they died for it. So no matter how much she missed them, how much it hurt, she struggled through. If only to keep their memories alive.

Because the Winchesters? They were heroes, all four of them.

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#suptober20 #enby!jack #mcd #tfw 2.0 #jody #spn angst #spn fluff #destiel #donna #claire #dadstiel #banquet #my writing

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blueaura · 3 years

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Lost and Found Ch. 7

A/N: I was supposed to finish this chapter the day before yesterday but then the finale happened and I needed time to recover. I loved it - it wasn’t perfect but I still absolutely loved it. It made me cry, which I detest but I still loved it. If anyone wants to talk about the finale, send me an ask or a message! Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Y/N didn’t know how to feel when Dean said they were 10 minutes out. She was nervous and anxious at the prospect of entering an unknown environment, but she was also reluctantly looking forward to not sleeping in a motel room anymore. She tried to desperately keep herself calm as they approached the bunker. The car ride had been surprisingly enjoyable. Dean’s music was similar to her tastes and they had a lot of fun annoying Sam, who ended up plugging in his earphones. The tension present in the beginning of the ride had melted away by the third Metallica track, and Y/N had finally relaxed after all the excitement of the previous day. But now she felt all her emotions crowding her, bombarding her senses as the distance between them and her new home continued to shrink. Temporary new home, she reminded herself.

Dean noticed her little freak out session in the backseat but decided against pulling over. He knew that if he gave her the slightest chance, she’d run, even if deep down she wanted this. So, he just continued driving and hoped that she would have an easier time once they arrived and she had a chance to unwind.

The bunker came into view just a few minutes later and Dean winced as he belatedly realised how this abandoned building would look to a stranger like Y/N. He didn’t exactly see any option other than to get her inside the bunker and re-affirm that she’s safe, so he pulled up in front of the huge building as Y/N took in her surroundings.

“This is your home?” she sounded skeptical, but not afraid which Dean took as a good sign.

“It was an old men of letters bunker and since they were all wiped out in the 50s, as legacies, we took over. Our grandfather was a member.” Sam had already jumped into nerd mode and started explaining who the men of letters were, so Dean figured his brother could handle Y/N and busied himself with unlocking the front door.

Y/N walked down the steps still not exactly sure this was as awesome as Dean had described in the car, but then the entirety of the bunker came into view and she looked around in awe. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of barely contained glee as they saw the young hunter excitedly explore the place. This was probably the most animated they had seen her in their short time together. She actually looked and acted like a kid and Dean’s heart ached at the unfamiliar sight.

“This is amazing! You guys have your own freaking bat cave!”

Sam started to explain everything to Y/N and Dean took this opportunity to go in search of their resident angel. With a quick word to his brother, letting him know where he was going, Dean made his way to Cas’s room leaving Y/N and Sam to nerd it out.

He knocked on Cas’s door but heard no response. Worried, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. He opened the door completely and stopped in his tracks, smiling wryly at the sight that greeted him. Cas had apparently taken Sam’s suggestion to heart. He was lounging in what looked like Dean’s sweatpants and hoodie, with Netflix playing on the TV he had apparently dragged from Sam’s room to his own. Cas himself was sound asleep, the dim light from the TV letting Dean see the drool on his face. He snickered quietly and took out his phone to click a picture.

Although Cas looked better than before, Dean was still worried about his friend. Just the fact that he needed to sleep was enough to tell him that Cas wasn’t at full strength, despite his claim that he was better. He contemplated waking the angel up and introducing him to Y/N but decided against it. He looked relaxed for the first time in days and Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to disturb him just yet.

After taking a couple of more pictures, for blackmail material of course, Dean finally left Cas to rest, closing the door lightly behind him. Instead of joining Sam, he decided to make up a room for Y/N and hunt down some food. He chose the room right in front of his, so that if she had any problem, she could come straight to him. He also realised at that particular moment that he cared more about this girl than he did for his privacy and it was a little jarring for Dean Winchester. He knew Sammy would probably make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made his way back to the war room after making sure Y/N’s room had everything she could need, and realised that Sam had moved on to the library where Y/N was currently exclaiming over all the different books, seemingly over her hesitation of staying with them.

“Well, Cas is asleep and I think your room is missing a TV. And possibly some clothes. He was lounging in sweats which is a first. But at least he looked better,” Dean said to Sam.

“I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Y/N turned to Dean, still at ease, which made him less anxious about having her there. Maybe it would just work after all.

“Usually they don’t. Cas… he already wasn’t at full strength but then this witch Rowena put a rabid dog curse on him – it’s a whole thing, I’ll explain later. But he was pretty wiped out and I guess he’s still recovering. He doesn’t look near death anymore though, which is good.”

“I’m more surprised that he’s actually wearing something other than his usual look,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever seen him wearing normal clothes besides that one time when he was human – it’s a long story,” he said before Y/N could ask.

“You’ll tell me later I presume,” she said wryly, echoing his previous statement, “You guys have a lot of long stories.”

“What can I say? Our lives are interesting,” Dean grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

He walked her through the bunker, showing her the common washrooms, the kitchen and pointing out his and Sam’s rooms.

“And this,” he pushed open the door, “is yours. You can personalise it if you want. I’m right next door and Sam’s is right down the hall so, holler if you need anything.”

Y/N looked inside and suddenly the overwhelming feeling came back. Her own room. For the first time in her life she had a place she could call her own, albeit temporarily, she had to keep reminding herself.

“Thanks,” she said, and if she sounded a little choked up, Dean mercifully didn’t mention it.

“Settle in and get some rest kiddo,” he nodded at her, “Cas will probably be up in an hour or so… you can meet him then.”

He hesitated at the door. “Have you… did you change your mind?” he cleared his throat roughly, “about Cas and the… thing I mean.”

“I… I don’t know Dean. Maybe later. It’s already too much right now.”

She felt awful when he visibly deflated, cursing herself for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

“Yeah, alright. No problem, kid. Just – let me know if you change your mind.”

He quickly left the room after that.

Y/N was pacing her new room. She couldn’t get over the defeated look on Dean’s face. She knew he wouldn’t show it, but he too really wanted to get it over with. If she was being honest with herself, so did she. She was just scared.

The more Sam reiterated the idea, the stronger it grew in her head. At first, she had laughed at the mere implication that Dean Winchester could be her biological father, but then she started building it up in her head, and now she honestly needed to know. Because now she wasn’t sure it was a joking matter, after all.

But for a person like her to even begin to grasp the idea of family was too much. She wasn’t scared of whatever the results could be. She could do worse in that area. What scared her was whatever came after – after finding out the truth. She once again felt anger rising for her mother. If only she had been honest, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, Sandra L/N was hardly ever honest.

Could she be happy here? It was safe, she had access to food. It was a home base – everything she had dreamed of having in the last few years since she had been alone. And rationally, she knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t hurt her – at least not intentionally. She usually took much longer to trust someone but there was just something about them that made her feel… safe. Something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with – Sam had reassured her of that much already. And maybe she would finally have someone to look out for her and in return she could look out for them.

She started pacing more furiously as she went over multiple scenarios in her head, overthinking every little detail. Family equalled hurt and pain in her head. And for Y/N, it had always been difficult to win against her head. She remembered when she used to believe in her mother, before she had realised that she was just a burden to her – someone she got saddled with and had no choice but to drag around. She hadn’t stopped hunting when Y/N was born, in fact she had thrown herself more into it. Her recklessness was what had finally done her in. Y/N had mostly been left with the neighbours or cheap babysitters when she was younger, before her mother decided that she was old enough to survive without supervision. She had been 6 at the time.

She had figured out how to survive by herself and she was good at it. She didn’t mind being alone, but she also craved affection, which created a weird juxtaposition of want and need inside her, that she mostly tried to bury deep down. The past week had thrown her life into a complete frenzy and all her defence mechanisms seemed useless at that moment.

Before she could spiral further, Sam knocked at her door, to fetch her for dinner. She visibly reigned herself in, but Sam didn’t comment once – just gave her an understanding smile. All these little instances were piling inside her head – how kind the Winchesters were to her and how much they seemed to care about her, making her crave that connection with them that she was too scared to allow herself to form.

“Cas is up. He’s in the kitchen with Dean, so you can meet him now,” Sam said as he started leading the way to the kitchen. Y/N’s steps faltered behind him. He paused and looked back at her,

“Hey, it’s alright. Cas is not gonna hurt you and we’ll be there the entire time,” Sam tried to console her.

“I know… I think I’m just realising that I’m about to meet an actual angel,” she squeaked, forgetting everything else for a minute.

Sam smiled at that. He remembered how overwhelmed he had been when he’d first met Cas, although the meeting hadn’t been a great one. He and Dean sometimes forgot that having an angelic best friend was not common for everyone else.

“You’ll be fine. Cas isn’t like other angels – for one, he isn’t a complete dick,” Sam laughed as he continued with Y/N in tow.

“Easy for you to say. I have never even met an angel before!” This easy camaraderie with the brothers was what was pushing her to get over her fears and Y/N could feel that pull again – the need to find out more.

“Well, you’re about to in a minute. Come on,” Sam gently pushed her in front of him, guiding her to the kitchen.

She saw Dean first, who was handing a cup of coffee to, she presumed, Castiel. Cas wasn’t what she imagined he would be. He didn’t seem intimidating. He had a ridiculous case of bedhead going on and it looked like Dean was in mother-hen mode again, as Cas was wearing a blanket around his shoulders that he didn’t seem too happy about.

Dean turned to her and smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat as he put the final touches to the pasta he’d whipped up.

“Well, looks like it’s introduction time! Y/N, this is our best friend and resident angel – Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N,” Dean grinned as Cas tried to awkwardly shake Y/N’s hand.

“It’s really good to meet you Y/N. I understand that you’re looking for some answers I may be able to provide. I hope I can be of assistance,” Cas’s voice was very deep, which surprised Y/N. She weakly smiled back at him, not entirely comfortable with the subject.

“Ah, yes. We’re gonna take a rain-check on that bud. You’re not at full strength yet and I don’t want you to derail your recovery,” Dean didn’t want to put Y/N on the spot and say she didn’t want to find out yet. The kid had been through enough.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said, annoyance clear in his voice, “It barely requires me to do anything. I just need to look at her soul.”

“My soul?” Y/N squeaked, but no one heard her because Dean was suddenly almost yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait! Look at her soul? Like what you did to that boy, and to Sam when he was soulless? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sam was what?” her voice was even more high-pitched now but again, she was ignored.

“No Dean. I don’t need to touch her soul to recognise it. I merely need to look at it carefully, with her permission of course. I’m very familiar with your soul, I would recognise a piece of it anywhere,” Cas assured in a soothing voice. Dean was now looking away, embarrassed and Y/N wondered what was going on there. She turned to Sam – confusion clear on her face. He just shook his head, exasperated. Clearly, he had been stuck watching this dance for a long time.

“Yeah, alright. As long as there’s no soul touching involved. That isn’t pleasant from what I’ve seen. And look, there’s no rush alright? You need to rest a little more and Y/N needs some time to adjust,” Dean said much more calmly now that he knew he wouldn’t be subjecting Y/N to excruciating pain.

Cas was clearly rearing up to argue with Dean about his ability to perform the task, regardless of his recovery, when Y/N spoke from behind them.

In that split second, she decided that it was no use putting it off until later. She would either drive herself crazy or talk herself out of it entirely and run away from the only safe place she knew.

“Alright. Do it.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately, which unnerved Y/N to no end, but she steeled herself against the scrutiny. This was it. This was her choice.

“Let’s do this,” she repeated, nodding for good measure.

Dean looked at her for a good minute, then nodded to Cas, clenching his fists even as Sam moved to stand beside him and Cas came to stand in front of where Y/N was sitting.

She exhaled sharply as she felt his palm touch her forehead. It was show time.

Chapter 8

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#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dad!dean x daughter!reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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the-rawr-ster · 3 years

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Title: To Die In Your Arms

Chapter 3: Jean’s Mom

W/C: 2301

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, sickness, death , and poverty.

A/N: Send an ask to be added to tag list. Sorry it took me so long to update, but I’ll try to update more often.

You looked at the boy, confused. Nobody had ever shown you kindness before, granted he was not nice about it, but the fact remains that it was a kind and selfless act.

Stuffing his mouth with an omelet, he says “You snore and drool in your sleep.”

You had been drooling at the sight of it. It was a struggle to get food at this time. You hadn’t even finished the bread the boy had given to you. You had been trying to spare it so it would last you a week.

“You shouldn’t eat that in public,” you whisper. “People kill over that stuff.”

The boy rolled his eyes and reached to unbutton his bag. Letting out a grunt, the boy struggled to unlatch the bag. He pulled something out, wrapped in a hunter-green cloth.

“Really,” he huffed, ” ‘Cause I brought extras.”

Your eyes widened. Why would anyone do that for you? Why would a boy who didn’t know you do that?

“What is it,” you asked.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Y-you brought this for me?”

“Obviously.”

You snatched the green cloth from him before retreating to your corner. “T-thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t mention it.”

As you scarfed down your meal, the boy made his way to the edge of the roof. The wind brushed through his light brown hair. He leaned over as he rested his hands on the ledge for support, scanning the street below. Nothing but a dead dog and trash had been at the bottom of the building.

“Why,” He turns to you. “Why were you going to jump?”

The answer was simple, there was nothing left here for you. Your parents were dead, and you had no friends. Nobody would have cared if you died. Nobody would shed a tear. Nobody would even recognize you because everyone you knew was dead. Even the kids you met on the boat were probably dead, Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. In fact, ost of Shigansia had probably died. You were probably the last survivor, but could you really call it surviving?

“I guess I should have asked why you chose not to jump.”

“I-” you stammered.

He leans back over the ledge. “You don’t have to tell me now. But eventually, you’ll have to know.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jean” he replied. “Jean Kirschtein.”

“I’m Y/N.”

As the days passed, the sky cleared up. Jean had often brought you things you needed to survive. You guys talked about things you liked and wanted to do. You ran around like children do, chasing each other with sticks. He was starting to become a friend, but not just any friend, your best friend. Your only friend. But you had wondered if it would last forever.

“Hey, Jean,” you say, brushing your fingers through his hair, as he lies in your lap.

“Yes?”

“What’s your mom like?”

Jean paused before speaking. He spent most of his days with you, away from his family. He didn’t always get along with them. They would argue and fight all the time. Although, he was the one who did do most of the arguing.

He sighs. “ Let’s just say, she’s an old hag.”

“I’m serious.”

You looked up at the pitch-black sky. What was it like to have a mother? You had forgotten about yours. You couldn’t remember how she looked or what her laugh sounded like. You hadn’t even remembered what she did for a living. What kind of mother was she? Did she nag a lot? Was she home often? Did you guys fight a lot? You couldn’t remember, and every time you tried, you would get a sharp pain in your temple.

“Jean, I don’t remember her” you admitted.

“Who,” he snored.

You had been so in your head that you hadn’t even realized your friend had fallen asleep. You stared at him, your eyes analyzing all the little details in his face. The moonlight highlighted his cheekbones. His hair fell messily over his eyebrows. He looked so peaceful. He was always so tense, and angry. There was really no way to describe it.

“My mom. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember her face. I don’t remember her laugh. Her smile. The color of her eyes. The sound of her voice. I forgot everything.”

The tears began spilling out of your eyes again. It pained you, trying to remember them when you couldn’t. All you could remember was the sight of blood and the smell of rotten flesh. That was hard to forget. Death was hard to forget. The blue sky was slowly devoured by gray clouds, followed by rain engulfing your tears.

You shook Jean. “Wake up. It’s raining.”

Jean brushed you off, cursing under his breath. You sighed, lifting the boy’s head off of your lap. You lifted jean, wrapping his arm around your neck. You wobbled, trying to gain a better footing. You make your way down the stairs, holding onto the wall and rusted railing for support. The weight of your feet on the steps made a creak with each step.

When you reached the bottom step, you ran head first into an older man about a foot taller than you. You had fallen into your ass, your friend still sound asleep next to you. Next to the tall, droopy-eyed man stood a pretty girl that looked much younger than him. She had been surrounded by a kind aura, bright enough to outshine the sun.

“Watch where you’re going,” the old man scoffed.

The girl hit his shoulder. She smiled and turned to you. She held out her hand, waiting for you to take it. You looked up at her in awe. She was warm. You took her hand and stood up. She looked at you with kind eyes and looked at Jean.

“Hey, wait, I recognize the little shit” the old man said.

“Y-you do,” you asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, if that’s true, why don’t you carry him for this young cutie, Oluo?”

Oluo rolled his eyes and proceeded to lift the boy. Oluo had better things to do, but one tiny detour wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. At least, the young woman said.

“Wait, where are you taking him?”

“Home,” Oluo spat.

“Oluo, you don’t have to sound so rude you know?”

“Yeah yeah.”

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves,” the young girl said, “My name’s Petra, and this is my squad mate Oluo. We’re scouts.”

“Scout? So does that mean you’ve seen Titans too?”

Everything got quiet. You looked down at your shadow. Your feet following the shadows of the others.

“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. Yes, we’ve seen them. We’ve killed them as a matter of fact.”

You lifted your head back up in curiosity. Could humans really rise above and kill the monsters that lurked just beyond the wall? Could we really somehow eradicate all of them?

“Y/n, stop tickling me,” Jean mumbled.

Your soft giggle brought a smile upon Petra and Oluo’s face. Oluo scowled as soon as Petra pointed it out. Their laugh, their smile, the way they interacted with each other reminded you of your parents. Of course these two had been younger.

“Kid,” Oluo sighed, “Do you wanna be a scout?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because, you’ve got the look of someone that’s been through some deep shit. And we need more people.”

You’d never even thought of being in the military. All you ever had thought of was being a doctor. You wanted to be someone that could save and heal people. You wanted to be like Dr. Jaeger. You had admired him for a while.

-flashback-

“Doctor Jaeger!!!”

Grisha Jaeger looked up to see a man holding a young child in his arms. His eyes were red and his voice sounded shaky. The doctor stood up and rushed to the door, opening it to see a sickly child. They were shivering, sweat soaked the poor things clothing. Their silent wails startled the man.

“Come in, put her on the table,” he commanded.

Your father placed you on the mattress. It had a metal frame that had started rusting. The clinic smelled like death. There were men with new bandages on their heads. They had just come back from a mission outside the walls. Needless to say, many of them weren’t going to make it. However, Dr. Jaeger still took care of them. They were alone. Their families had long since passed on, and all of their friends were dead.

“Mr. y/f/l/n, I’ll need you to step out, I don’t need you to get sick too. You were lucky, this was my last bed,” the doctor walked to your bed, a tray of needles and other materials in his hand, “I’m gonna do my best to make sure you get all better, okay?”

You nodded, then looked at your father. He kissed your forehead, and said goodbye. His tears dropped off of his chin onto your forehead. You wished he could stay with you, hold your hand, and wipe your tears. Alas, you knew that could not happen.

“Okay, kiddo, show me where it hurts.”

You pointed to your head and ears. You had been hurting for several days, but in fear of causing your parents to close down the bakery, you held it inside. You held in the pain until you collapsed.

“Have you felt cold?”

You nodded.

“Okay. I need you to keep this on your forehead, while I look inside your ears.”

-four hours later-

“Hey, kid,” a man whispered, “How old are you?”

“I’m 8.”

The man looked down at a picture he was holding. The picture was falling apart. It had singed corners and it looked as though it was ripped in half.

“I have a son your age.”

“What’s his name?”

“His name is Marco. He’s got the biggest hazel colored eyes. He’s got kisses from the sun all over his face. That boy is the sweetest...brightest...and most warm smile I’ve ever seen.”

The man had been brought back from behind the walls. His legs had been crushed from being grabbed by a Titan. The damage was permanent, and the internal bleeding from the incident would eventually kill him.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?”

You had never really thought about it yet. You’d assumed you’d stay in your parents bakery forever. It was the only thing you’d ever known.

“No.” You looked down at your hands.

“Well, promise me, you won’t join the military,” he turned to you,” The only thing you’ll ever experience is death. Finish school, get married, and raise a family. Live.”

You didn’t respond. You could not understand what the man had been trying to say. I mean how could you? You’re only 8 years old. A future like that wasn’t really on your mind. Death wasn’t on your mind, it was the last thing on your mind.

“Okay y/n l/n, it’s time for another dose.”

-one day later-

The sound of raindrops violently beating on the window greeted you from your rest. It was the first time in a while that you had gotten a full night's sleep. You rubbed your eyes until the crust had fallen off. You turned to the bed of the man you had talked to. Dr. Jaeger was standing over it. His hands were intertwined with each other. The dead flowers in the vase on the sill had been replaced with new ones.

That’s when you knew. That’s when you knew you wanted to be a doctor.

-flash back is now over because I suck at transitioning-

“Look, you don’t have to be one now. But you should think about it when you’re of age,” he said.

Oluo stopped in front of a two story house. It looked well kept and had a sign on it that read Kierstein.

“Looks like we’re here.”

Oluo put Jean on the floor. He had been sleeping like a baby, you almost didn’t want to wake him up. He looked peaceful, until a snot bubble appeared. The sound of it popping jolted Jean awake.

“NO MOM DON’T LOOK AT MY SKETCHBOOK,” he yelled.

You had let out an obnoxious snort. Jean furrowed his eyebrows and turned his head. He wrapped his arms across his chest, huffing and puffing like a baby.

Oluo and Petra eventually had to leave. You watched them walk away, leaving you and Jean alone on the doorsteps. The laughter subsided.

“You know, making fun of people is rude,” Jean scolded, “Where are we anyways?”

“Jeanie, my sweetheart.”

A voluptuous woman with kind, green eyes, burts out the door, wrapping the boy in her arms.

“Where have you been, my boy?!!!”

That must be- wait, I recognize her. But where? Where do I know this woman from?

“Mom, please stop. You’re embarrassing me.”

Jean’s mom put him down with a pouty face. She’d only missed her son everyday. She didn’t know where he was going, or what he was doing.

“I’m sorry, I was just worried-,” she turned, spotting your figure in the corner of her eye, “Jean, you didn’t tell me you had yourself a little cutie.”

Jean turned to hide his tomato red face. “They’re just my friend.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends, but I’m glad you found one.”

“M-mom,” you stumbled back.

That’s when it hit you. The day of the attack, a woman had visited your mom's bakery before it happened. It hadn’t crossed your mind, you thought she’d have died. It didn’t make sense to you, but when does fate ever make sense?

“Oh, you poor thing, you’re that child of y/m/f/n, from Shiganshina. Why don’t you come inside with us?”

Synopsis: You didn’t realize how in love you were with Jean Kirschtein until he decided to join the Survey Corp.

Taglist: n/a

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Chapter 4

playlist

#aot angst #aot x reader #aot jean #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #snk anime #snk jean #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #jean fanfic #snk fanfiction

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kjrosswrites · 3 years

Text

Trust, Dean Winchester & Wendigos- Part 1

Word count: 3409

Summary: Rylie gets a call from investigators wanting to know about her missing friend. They turn out to be Sam and Dean hunting a Wendigo. Rylie and Dean have a crush on each other. A little fluff. This is my first time posting any fanfics!! I’d appreciate any feedback. The character Rylie in this short story is similar to my MC in a manuscript I’m working on. ☺️ (also I’m really bad at titles 🤪)

My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s an unknown number. I answer on the off chance it could be about my missing friend, Amber.

“Hello?” I answer, out of breath from my run.

“Is this Rylie Evans?” a man’s husky voice asks.

“It is.” I try to hide the fact that I’m out of breath.

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your missing friend?”

“Who is asking?” I know one week in to be more guarded. Some people will prey on those of us going through a hard time.

“Agent Tyler, Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.”

“I would be happy to speak with you, agent. Could we perhaps meet in person so that I can verify you’re who you say you are?”

“Of course, name the place.”

I give him the address of a coffee shop off I-40.

Two hours later, my hands are wrapped around a warm, steaming cup of coffee that I haven’t touched. My stomach is in knots. It’s been a long few days of moments like this, going over every detail of the last time I saw Amber and what I knew about her camping trip.

The door dings, I lookup to see two tall men in suits coming through it. I make eye contact with them to make sure they notice me.

I can’t help but notice that they’re both incredibly handsome, and don’t look like your typical agents. The shorter guy, though he has to be at least 6’1’’, has a little scruff on his face. The taller guy has medium length chestnut hair.

The man with darker brown hair and hazel eyes smiles at me softly. I shift in my seat.

“Do you happen to be Rylie Evans?” I hear his slight southern drawl that is definitely not Tennessean, again, and recognize it immediately.

I stand, extending my hand, “Agent Tyler?”

“You can call me Dean. This is my partner, Sam Kramer.”

Dean gestures for me to have a seat back in the booth. I reluctantly sit down. Regretting my choice of jeans and a flannel shirt, I tug at my curly auburn hair absentmindedly. Rubbing the ends of a strand between my chipped nail polished fingers.

Sam clears his throat, “So, Rylie, do you know where your friend was last seen?”

“Yes- as I’ve gone over with the Sheriff’s Department and the Park Rangers. She was camping at South Cumberland State Park. She was last seen by a park ranger there when she parked her car. I last saw her the day before that and I helped her pack.”

“Does she usually take solo backcountry camping trips?” Dean asks.

“No. She just went through a break-up. She wanted to clear her head and be alone. I tried to go with her.”

“I’m sorry that you have to feel that guilt, then.” Dean says.

The waitress comes and the men order their coffee.

I sip my coffee that’s finally cool enough to drink.

“Why would I feel guilty? Has there been a lead?” I meet Dean’s hazel eyes.

“Well, possibly. We have an idea. The reason the TBI is now involved is because it seems there’s a bit of a pattern of missing persons in this area.”

“You guys think it’s a serial killer?” I fight back tears.

“We don’t know- there’s odd circumstances. Have you heard anything out of the norm lately? Reports of hearing someone cry for help that didn’t seem quite right?” Sam asks.

“A man is trying to lure people by pretending to be hurt? No. I don’t understand.”

I’m frustrated now, and flustered. Dean’s hands are far too close to mine on this table. I pull mine back.

“I know it’s confusing, but we can’t give out too much information. Please, stay out of the woods at night and give us a call if you hear any grumblings.” Dean says as he puts a card on the table.

“Wait!” I nearly shout. The patrons near us turn to look. I blush.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t heard anything about other people going missing. Where are those reports coming from?” I ask, lowering my voice.

Sam and Dean exchange a look. “They’re coming from all along this region. Every few months, someone goes missing in a heavily wooded area. Along the Craighead Caverns cave system.” Dean says.

I blink, not understanding. “The caves have something to do with it?”

“Maybe. It’s complex.” Sam says, giving Dean a pointed look.

“So you called me here to ask me if I had heard of anyone being lured by someone pretending to be hurt?” I furrow my brow. “Is this come kind of joke? Preying on me because my best friend is missing? Y’all don’t even really look like cops.”

I get up to leave, genuinely upset now. I throw their card towards Dean and stomp off.

When I get to my car tears are properly flowing down my face. I’m fishing through my purse for my keys and I can’t find them.

Frustrated, I dump my bag onto the asphalt, bending down to search for them.

“Looking for these?” I hear Dean’s voice from behind me.

I whirl around, heat all over my face.

“You left them in the booth.” Dean stoops down to pick up the contents of my purse.

“I can do it- thank you.” I scoop it all back into my bag quickly.

“Here you go.” Dean holds out my keys, lipstick and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket.

I look at him incredulously. “I’m fine, thank you.” I wipe the tears from under my eyes with my hand.

He raises his eyebrows and takes a step back.

“Alright, look, you’re right to be upset. We are not really TBI. We’re hunters. We’re tracking a Wendigo.”

“Hunters?? What’s a wendigo?” I back away him.

“It’s a cryptid type thing. They hunt folks. Impersonate humans. You know all those things that have a lot of folklore and discourse? It’s all real. Vampires. Werewolves. Demons. We hunt them.”

“You think my friend was killed by a Wendigo?”

“Maybe, or something like it. Whatever it is- we don’t think it’s your standard Ted Bundy.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“But- no remains have been found?” I question.

“If it’s what we think it is, there wouldn’t be. Her bags and tent were recovered right?” Dean looks towards my feet, staring at my worn down boots.

“Yes.” I say. My voice breaking again. Dean still has the hankie in his large hand. I look at it instead of his face.

“The other theory is she got lost? Would she do that without any supplies?” Dean looks up from the ground, I’m still staring at his hand.

“No. She wouldn’t. She’s smart.” A tear hits my face. I look up to meet Dean’s eyes with my green tear filled ones.

He extends the hankie again, a sympathetic look on his face. I take it this time and wipe away the tears. It smells like him, woodsy with a hint of whiskey.

“Thank you.” He nods at me like he’s done this a million times before.

“The lore about Wendigos is that they make their prey last. There could be a possibility of your friend being alive. I don’t want to give you false hope, but it’s possible.”

“How on earth could you find her?”

I search his face. I have an odd sense of comfort being near him. Like we’ve met before.

He clears his throat. “We’ve done it before. You have to go to the last place you think the thing was, to gank it.”

“Y’all are gonna go camping the same place she went missing? Are you insane?”

He grins. “Many people would say that I am, yes. That’s why we wanted to talk to you. Find out exactly where she was. We’ll go tomorrow night.”

“I couldn’t describe to you where her campsite was. I’d need to go back.”

Dean waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah we kinda figured that. Look, I know it’s a lot to ask. I’ll buy you beer and dinner tonight.”

“You want me to come hunting a mythical creature that I just found out existed-with you and your partner who are strangers to me for beer and dinner?” I laugh despite myself.

“He’s my brother, actually. No, you wouldn’t hunt. You’d just show us where the campsite is and go back home. We can’t have you in danger, too.”

“No way in hell am I going out there just to show you when my friend could be alive. I’ll stay. I can handle myself.”

Sam walks out of the coffee shop and throws his hands up at Dean. “What the hell, Dean? I thought you were coming back in.”

Sam stops short when he sees us. I’ve got my hands on my hips and Dean is standing a little too close to me.

Sam looks between us with a confused expression.

“No, Sammy. Rylie is going camping with us tomorrow night.”

“She is not.” Sam immediately rejects the idea.

“Y'all need me to show you where exactly she camped. The only way I’m doing that is if I stay, too. Otherwise you can forget it.”

Sam sighs heavily. “You told her what we’re hunting?”

Dean gives a small grin to his brother, shrugging. “She wasn’t going to help us unless we told the truth, Sammy.”

“So who’s buying my beer?” I smile, despite myself. Something about these boys is comforting now that I know the truth.

“Oh, that’s all you, Dean.” Sam claps his brother on the shoulder.

“Anywhere with a good pool table?” Dean looks at me.

“Yeah, I can text you the address and meet you there later. I need to do a few things. Can I text the number on the card?” Dean hands me the card back.

“Yep. We’ll see ya then.” Dean smiles at me, his dimples showing.

Butterflies stir in my stomach as I return the smile.

“See you then.”

I open the door to my Toyota Tacoma and climb in. I watch Sam and Dean cross the parking lot to a black 1967 Impala. I smile. My mom’s first car was an Impala. Sam and Dean’s is in perfect shape, though.

Three hours later I’m back in the truck heading to Joe’s bar and grill. I pull in and notice the Impala is already there. Dean had texted me back nearly immediately and said “See ya there, sweetheart.”

I walk through the doors wearing the jeans I was earlier, and a black long sleeved blouse. I see Sam at the pool table. Dean at a high top table off to the side.

There’s not many other people in here and I scan the room for familiar faces, as I’d rather my family not know I’m hanging out with two random guys.

Thankfully, I don’t see anyone I know. Dean makes eye contact with me and stands up. He grins, walking towards me. I observe his bow legged gait and can’t help but grin back.

I’ve always been a sucker for bow legged boys in flannel shirts. His shirt is red flannel and I notice a brown leather jacket hanging off the back of his chair.

“Hey there, whatcha drinkin?” He greets me.

I smile. “Hi, should probably stick to beer.”

“I got you. You look nice, by the way.”

I blush, “Thank you.”

“Go have a seat and watch Sammy hustle. I’ll get us beer.” He gestures to the table he was sitting at. I nod and cross the room to sit. Sam waves at me.

They both seem so comfortable here, as if they’re here all the time. That strikes me as odd, because I know people will be talking about this tomorrow. We have a population of maybe three thousand.

Dean walks over with three beers and sits next to me. “Thank you.”

I open my beer and take a sip.

Dean does the same, when he’s done he leans closer than necessary to say, “Are you sure you want to come with us tomorrow? The weather is supposed to be pretty cold.”

“I’m positive. She’d go if it were me.”

I flip my hair off my shoulder to my back as I take another sip of beer. Dean watches as I do this and I can see his jaw clench. I feel heat in my cheeks.

“How long have y’all been friends?”

“Since highschool.” I pick at the label on my beer bottle and suddenly feel so guilty for flirting with this guy when I should be focused on finding Amber.

“I hope we can find her. We see enough loss. It’d be nice to help a reunion happen.” Dean looks over to his brother.

I’m trying to not get choked up again so I follow his gaze just in time to see Sam win. The man he was playing looks upset as he hands over the money.

Sam walks over to us, “Money for dinner.” He grins.

“Hunting monsters doesn’t pay well?” I ask, eager for a subject change.

“Not jack.” Dean mutters.

“We do it because no one else does.” Sam explains.

“We lost our parents to monsters.”

“And too many damn friends.” Dean says. “That’s why I want to find yours, Rylie.” Dean stands and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I hope we can.” I look up at him.

“Another round?” My beer is hardly touched but I agree and ask for a burger and fries too.

I quickly finish my beer while Dean is at the jukebox.

“Oh, here we go.” Sam smiles.

“Does he have bad taste in music?”

“Not bad, just, mostly dad rock.” Sam chuckles, his big dimples showing.

I smile back. Sam seems like a sweet guy. Then I hear Blue Oyster Cult start playing and I understand what Sam means.

Dean comes back, “Don't worry I picked several we can dance to, later.” He winks at me.

I smile back, blushing again.

“Since when do you dance?”

“Shut up, Sam. I love to dance.”

The next hour or so flies by and I find myself more and more comfortable with them. I have a huge crush on Dean, especially after he’s had a few drinks and being goofy.

I put a Taylor swift song on the jukebox and Sam is laughing.

“You still wanna dance to T-Swift?” I ask, holding out my hand.

Dean groans. “Fine. Because you asked.” He smiles.

He takes my hand and pulls me closer to him, hands on my waist.

I gasp at the quick change of movements and try to even my breathing. I look up at him. I’m 5’4 so my head barely reaches his chest. I try not to let my mind wander to how good it would feel to rest my head there.

It has been years since I’ve had this much genuine fun with a guy. I put my arms around his neck and sway to the music with him, smiling.

“See? I can get down to some T-Swift.” He smiles, gazing into my eyes.

I swallow. I want to lean up and kiss him. At that exact moment, someone changed the song to George Strait.

“Damn. We were just getting our stride.” Dean says.

“We were.” I reply.

His hands are still on my hips. He gives them the tiniest squeeze before he lets go, but I noticed it.

“Dean. I don’t want to be a buzzkill but we do have a long day ahead tomorrow. We really should get some sleep.” Sam says when we return to the table.

“You’re right.” I say.

Dean looks bummed. “Fine.”

“I’ll go pay.” Sam says.

I walk towards the door and realize I’m probably too buzzed to drive.

Dean opens the door to the parking lot and the cold hits us like a wall.

“Holy shit.” I say wrapping my arms around myself.

“Where’s your coat?” He asks.

“Didn’t bring one.” I grin.

“I’ll go start your car and you can sit in ours while it warms up?”

“That’s sweet. But about that, I don’t think I should drive home.”

He grins. “Too many beers?”

“A few.”

“We can take you home. Or you can bunk with us. I’ll make Sammy share his bed.”

I’m so tempted to take him on that offer. “You can take me home, thank you.” I smile.

I think about my mom seeing a classic car with two beautiful men in it dropping me off. We don’t live together, but I’m right across the street from her. I cringe at the thought.

“On second thought maybe I’ll bunk with y’all.” I say once we’re in the warmth of the Impala.

“What made you change your mind?” Dean turns around to look at me.

“My mom lives across the street. I’d rather y’all bring me back to my truck in the morning and then meet you where y’all are staying to go to the campsite.”

“Don’t want to explain who we are to your mom?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that conversation would go over too well.” I snort.

Sam opens the passenger door.

“My god it’s cold.” He mutters.

“Oh, hey Rylie, I didn’t know you were riding with us.”

“Too buzzed to drive, Sam.”

“And bunking in my bed.” Dean grins at his brother.

“What?”

“Sam she’s been through a lot the last week. This will be easier for her.”

“I’m sorry to intrude.” I almost whisper.

“Oh no, you’re okay. I just don’t want to have Dean the blanket hog in the bed.”

“I’m not opposed to sharing your bed.” I look at Dean.

Sam clears his throat and Dean has a shocked expression on his face.

“Oh-okay.” Dean stutters, blushing.

I smile, happy I finally surprised him.

“I can get my own room.”

“Don’t be silly, Sam. I’ll be fully clothed.”

At the motel, I turn on the TV and try to find something.

“I’m gonna head to the gas station to get supplies.” Sam says abruptly, walking out the door.

I blush. “He didn’t need to do that.”

“He didn’t?” Dean asks, sitting down next to me, our thighs touching.

I look over at him. “I’m not trying to get in your pants, Dean. Not that I’m saying no forever. I really like you, if you can’t tell. It’s just not the right time.” I put my hand on his knee.

“I get it.” He sighs.

I put my head on his chest and sigh. It feels like I thought it would, firm but soft. He smells so damn good.

He runs a hand through my hair. I pull back and look up at him. He moves his hand from my head to my chin, tilting it toward him. I close the distance between us and kiss him softly. He kisses me back, deepening the kiss. I move my hand up his leg slightly.

He breaks the kiss. I blink up at him, blushing. “Did I do something wrong?”

He chuckles. “Hell, no. It was too good. I need to break if we’re supposed to sleep next to each other tonight.”

“I don’t mean to lead you on-“

Dean puts his finger to my lips.

“You aren’t leading me on. You told me you didn’t want to have sex tonight. I wanted to kiss you. Even if you hadn’t prefaced it, we just met. I had no expectations.”

I hug him tightly without thinking.

“Thank you.” I whisper.

“You don’t need to thank me for respecting you. I’m sorry someone else made you feel like that.” He strokes my hair.

I lean up and kiss his cheek.

“I am actually super sleepy.” I say.

He chuckles. “Me too. Do you want to sleep in one of my shirts? I’m sure it’d be long enough.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He rummages around his bag, tossing me a worn T-shirt. I go to the bathroom to change. It comes well below my butt and I don’t feel too exposed.

I climb in bed where Dean already is. I pull back the covers and see he didn’t change.

“You’re sleeping in jeans?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, when we’re on the road I don’t change. I like to be ready.”

I nod, knowing there must be a reason behind that. He holds out his arm in a gesture for me to lay with him. I smile and scoot over. I fall asleep faster than I have since Amber went missing.

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #self publishing #new adult #romance #supernatural #supernatural family #spn

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.45

Lance had been nearly deafened. He hadn’t been able to change back at all the previous day. Keith carrying him around as he was forced to be cooed over. He carried him to the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, basically wherever Keith went, Lance had gone with him. He’d changed back in the middle of the night, curled up against Keith. His poor boyfriend hadn’t had the best day, and he’d ended up hearing everything between him and Shiro. Shooting Hunk a message in the middle of the night, both his friends came by barely after the breakfast dishes had been put away. Pidge was either talking a million words a minutes, demanding answers from Matt, or screaming over seeing her brother again. The touching reunion was too much. Pidge’s voice was too much. He’d never had such a reunion with his siblings, so he ended up feeling half deaf and crying his eyes out in the kitchen. He was happy for her, but the weight of Matt’s secret was dragging him down, as was the pathetic jealousy of feeling on the outside again. Feeling strong arms wrap around his waist, Lance turned his head, nearly kissing Hunk thinking it was Keith. Hunk was also a crying mess

“I’m so happy he’s back. This is the best surprise Pidge could have gotten”

It was easy for him to think of Pidge as the same age as Hunk, and not two years younger. She was so brainy she seemed much older than her 22 years

“Yeah. It’s nice to see her so happy”

“I don’t think happy even comes close to describing what she’s feeling right now, man”

“That’s true”

Lance wanted to skip out and come back once Pidge had settled, but that was asking the impossible from his little gremlin. She had every right to be this happy. He’s be happy to if his siblings would accept him back. He missed them. He missed Marco most of all. Marco had loved having a vampire for a brother when everything had been new. Before he realised he had to keep things a secret and deal with a brother that had screaming nightmares and sometimes was too traumatised to talk

“Man, you okay? You’re shaking”

Lance smiled as he wiped at his eyes, knocking his glasses as he did

“I’m really happy for her. But it’s making me miss Miriam”

“Have you seen her lately?”

“Not as much as I’d like to. I didn’t go last weekend, and this weekend’s probably going to be out seeing Matt’s here with Rieva”

“Have you called her?”

Not as much as he’d like to have... Simultaneously wanting to be with her and keep her away from what was happening to him

“It’s not the same as seeing her”

“You could always to tomorrow?”

“Nah. Keith and Shiro are off to Platt tomorrow. I can’t just ditch Matt and Rieva here for the day with Curtis”

“I was wondering who he is... He hasn’t said much”

No one had said much other than Pidge and Matt. Shit... Curtis needed a cover story... His mouth moving without much thinking

“Cousin. Definitely a cousin... of mine... My house has turned into a damn bed and breakfast”

“Man, you have cousins? You never talked about any one other than Miriam”

“Oh, he’s like distantly related. Miriam thinks I need company”

“We never enough?”

Lance turned in Hunk’s hold, hugging him back

“You and Pidge are always, always, more than enough”

“That’s good enough for me. Man, all these people have my creative juices flowing. I think we need a feast”

Pidge stopped talking, spinning towards the pair of them

“Did I hear food?”

Hunk laughed, Lance still hugging him

“Yep. Lance and I are going to make you guys the biggest meal you’ve ever seen! Matt’s home, it’s time for a real party!”

“Whoop whoop! Okay, that’s our cue to vacate the kitchen. I want to hear all about how you snagged Rieva. She’s totes out of your league, you know that right?”

“I do. Let’s head to the living room. I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to here”

The kitchen vacated at near vampire speed as Pidge pulled Matt along with her. Lance watched them go from over Hunk’s shoulder. The only one who stayed was Keith, which Lance found reassuring. His boyfriend wasn’t jealous over him hugging Hunk. He took it as Keith making a real effort to be involved more with Hunk and his stupid emotions nearly made him cry again. Keith was like the missing piece none of them knew they needed. Breaking the hug, Lance wrinkled his nose over his fogged up glasses

“These things need to come with a warning. Right. Well. We’ll need to head to town. We need milk, and I have no idea what’s in the fridge”

“I’m on it”

Hunk gave him one more hard squeeze before walking over the fridge, Lance feeling Keith’s fingers brushing against his hand. Turning to his boyfriend, he gave him a wobbly smile

“Hey, you. Here to help?”

Keith nodded, he looked a little lost over what’d just happened

“Pidge is a bit too much right now... are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. All these family feels... bit much”

Lance fanned his face with his glasses, Keith nodding again. As his boyfriend started to let his hand drop, Lance reached out to squeeze it gently

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never... felt like that”

“Let me know if you need a break”

“I should be saying that to you”

God knew how much Lance wanted to kiss Keith right then. But Hunk was in the room and he didn’t want to make things more awkward for Keith

“I’ll be okay. It makes me wanna see Miriam”

“You should... You... we could go... or tomorrow. You could come with us tomorrow”

“Someone’s gotta be here to keep an eye on things. I’ll call her tonight”

Keith frowned of him

“You’ve wanted to see her for days... it’s not fair...”

“Sometimes things mean you can’t do what you want to do. I once went three months without seeing her and it was the absolute worst”

“I can’t imagine that”

“I know... anyway, you ready for another cooking lesson?”

“Yeah... Yeah, it’s like you said. It’s a good skill to have”

“Careful there, Keith. That nearly sounded like you were saying I’m right”

Keith snorted at him, Hunk calling out from where his head was still in the fridge

“What was that?”

“Keith admitted I’m right”

“As shocking as it seems, it happens. You’ve got a lot in here, so you can go to town while I get started”

“Sounds good. Wanna come for the ride?”

Keith nodded quickly, Lance smiling at the thought of Keith wanting to escape all these damn people, as he’d say

“Perfect. Hunk, gimme a list. We’ll be back once the shoppings done. Better pick up some wine while I’m at it. Pidge does love an excuse to party”

“That she does... I’m already dreading tomorrow morning”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll see”

Keith hated shopping. He hated shopping even more when it meant going up and down each isle, but today that was the plan and he was grateful for it. Both he and Lance needed a moment away from all the family stuff. Keith was “allowed” to push the cart, as Lance walked beside him, hands brushing occasionally in a way that made Keith want to hold his hand in public. Nudging him with his hip, Lance was definitely feeling better. It wasn’t fair he wasn’t able to see his Mami because of everything going on

“What?”

“Nothing. Felt like it”

Keith huffed, hiding his budding smile in the sound

“You’re so annoying”

“Yep. Still. This is nice... kind of like a da-... like none of that drama is waiting for us back at home”

Keith had heard that “da”. He didn’t know what the “da” was leading to. Nudging his boyfriend back, he took a guess

“We’re you going to say date?”

Lance couldn’t have meant date. What was date like about shopping together? They’d shopped together before...

“Pffft. Who said date? I didn’t say date. Just two dudes, two bros, doing bro things like shopping together...”

That wasn’t fooling Keith. He’d heard the way Lance called Curtis his cousin when Hunk tried to ask more about him

“How is this a date?”

“I didn’t say it was a date”

“You clearly said “da”. “Kind of like a da-...“”

“Nope. I have no memory of that. Oooh, look, we need that”

Keith intercepted Lance reaching for cake mix. The hunter had a feeling Hunk would be insulted if they brought the premade stuff home

“We don’t need that. If this was a date, wouldn’t I know about it? Does shopping for food even count as a date?”

“Noooo. Ugh. Fine. I mean... like, because we’re alone. Not alone, like “alone” alone, but it’s the pair of us hiding together”

“You’re making even less sense”

“I mean we haven’t been alone for like a week now... and it’s like... nice”

“It hasn’t been a week...”

“You know what I mean. With that many people around it feel soooooo much longer”

So their alone time at home did count? This dating thing was confusing

“That’s true”

“See. And we have to be only a little bit careful and not fully careful in front of people”

“It’s still not a date. You’d know if I took you on a date”

“You’d be cranky because you’re all flustered and awkward?”

Keith nodded, that was the most likely scenario

“Pretty much”

And pretty much how he normally was around Lance when Lance started paying too much attention to him

“Maybe when you’re settled we can go on a date. I mean, only if you want to. Totally, zero pressure. We can totes just go as friends... two bros hanging out...”

Keith really liked this awkward side to Lance. It reminded him Lance was nearly as human as he was

“I’d like that... as friends... or whatever”

“I like the sound of that “whatever””

Keith felt himself growing red, especially when he realised he was the whole conversation happened with his hand around Lance’s wrist. Quickly letting go, he turned away from his boyfriend. Being alone with Lance was dangerous. He wanted to kiss him, or at least slip his arm around Lance’s waist, but Garrison had already proven backwards enough. There was just something about when they were alone together that made Keith feel stupidly comfortable. Tomorrow they’d be off to Platt, and Shiro’d force him through a full medical, but that wasn’t even bothering him like it usually would. Normally he’d fixate and work himself up before those kinds of things, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Lance had a point about needing someone at the house in case something happened. Matt could easily mess up all their cover stories when being pestered incessantly by Pidge over things. Lance was needed there to keep things running smoothly, but it wasn’t fair he couldn’t see his mother when he really needed her right now. Maybe they’d get the chance on Monday? Shiro could stay home with Matt, Rieva and Curtis, while they went to Platt?

“I’ll “whatever”. What about Monday?”

With his thoughts in his head, Lance had every right to look confused as Keith’s sudden suggestion of Monday

“For a date?”

“What? No. You could go see your mother on Monday”

“Oh... do you think Shiro will be okay with that?”

“I could say I’m going with you, then find some way to kill time?”

“Or you could come with me?”

Keith was touched that Lance would invite him, but he didn’t want to crash their alone time

“I think there’s a lot you want to talk to her about that you should do on your own”

“What about a compromise? You come pick me up and stay for a bit?”

“I could do that... I don’t what to say though”

And what if he said the wrong thing? What if he upset Miriam?

“You’re overthinking things again. Mami knows you’ve been with me and that we’ve gotten close. I want her to spend time with you too, but only if you’re comfortable with it”

“I’ll think about it”

“Okay, I don’t want you feel pressured... but... I do want to tell Mami that I’ve found someone I like”

“You want to tell her about us?”

A vampire and a hunter seemed a bad joke

“I want her to know that even with everything going on, I’ve got someone by my side and on my side. I’ve been as honest with her as I could about everything from day one”

“Yeah. I know that... but won’t it bring up questions?”

The way Lance sighed hurt to hear, Keith feeling bad for prying

“Probably. I’m not going to tell her about Luis. I hate to admit how old she is now, but I don’t want to drive them apart. Mami is so full of love for her family. She doesn’t need to know what he did to me... besides, if you think about it, he hates me so much that he brought you into my life”

“I feel like he’d have a heart attack on the spot if he knew”

Keith maybe kind of wanted to see Luis lose his shit again

“As much as he’s a dick, let’s not joke about that. Some people never get over that fear. Luis couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t control his fear and... well, my sister Rachel wasn’t much better. My other sister Veronica used to reach out, when I was in university the first time around, but Luis didn’t like it. He just wanted to keep everyone safe. Especially with the thought that monsters really do exist. He had to grow up realising anyone could be a vampire and he wouldn’t know until it was too late. You know that kind of pressure. Plus he had a super traumatised brother, so most of Mami’s attention was constantly on me”

“But you’re like the least vampire vampire in existence”

“And you saw what happens when my ego gets too big. Imagine your kid brother not able to control that and constantly being scared of everything. No matter how hard it was to adjust, it took time that humans just don’t have. Life goes on. That’s why I’m so nervous with you. I don’t want to bind you to me. I don’t want you to suffer because you chose to date me. It still feels like a dream”

Yeah. It was probably going to be rough, but Keith had never wanted anyone like he wanted Lance. Things had been so shaky getting to where they were, he wasn’t going to give up now

“I don’t regret it. We’re still working things out”

“I know. But if you ever feel like that, I want you to be honest with me”

“I’ll try. What else is on Hunk’s list?”

“Milk, which we both knew we needed... ugh, that reminds me, there’s a mug of hot chocolate in my room still and it stinks”

“Is that why you threw up yesterday?”

“Nah. Food’s gotta come out someway. It’s honestly fine”

“That’d suck, if you asked me”

“Okay, so it does, but I’d rather eat like a normal person”

“Says the guy who’s started bringing blood to the breakfast table”

Lance shrugged, bumping Keith again with his hip. Keith was about ready to grab him by the hips and kiss him like they weren’t in public. Having all of Lance’s attentions was going to his head

“My house, my rules. I’m turning into a slob”

“I think you’ve earned the right to rest”

“It’s more like I can’t find effort to gather up my scattered fucks and get things together with everything so up in the air”

That was true. For both of them other than Shiro and Adam he’d never really had anyone he’d felt like he was leaving behind, and even that felt different to leaving Lance

“Fair call. I’ll see if I can get phone while we’re in Platt tomorrow. You can show me how to set it up”

“I’d like that... plus, Pidge won’t be there to order you a crazy expensive one. Like, all I need it for is talking to everyone and taking photos of Blue. I don’t need so many damn features”

Keith snorted, he could appreciate that

“Yep. Pretty much. I’m kind of nervous about being in a chat with everyone”

“It’s mostly memes. Everyone appreciates a good meme. Sometimes Shay and Pidge get pretty savage. Just don’t make the mistake of getting caught up in Pidge going on a new conspiracy craze. She’s been so focused on Garrison lately that we’re about due for her to pick some new interest on the other side of the country and decide we all have to go road-tripping to investigate”

“So don’t feed the gremlin?”

“Exactly. See. This is why you fit right in. You’ve already developed that healthy fear of Pidge. And Hunk, man, he’s the ray of sunshine you need in your life. Shit day? He’ll be there right when you need him”

“I’m not good at making friends”

“Neither am I. But those two are like us, you just can’t seem to stay away”

Keith felt all stupid again. His heart was being stupid again. Sure, Shiro said it was a crush and sure it mostly went stupid around Lance, but this was ridiculous. Coran better give him answers tomorrow or he might just go insane with how Lance was making him feel and react. Would it always be this way with him? Or would moving cool things off between them and turn them back to strangers like the last month meant nothing? He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be strangers with Lance... or Pidge, or Hunk... Matt was a little “eh” but he came with Pidge, kind of like a package deal. Keith couldn’t help but think about Lance describing this as a dream. He didn’t want to wake up if it was... because... he kind of, maybe, really didn’t want to be alone anymore.

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sillypandalover91 · 4 years

Text

Twitterpated

Ao3

Self restraint was surprisingly one of Angel’s stronger suits despite what he lets people to believe. Growing up gay in an Roman Catholic mob family in a time where boys were sent for “medical treatment” for looking at other boys with a little too much interest would do that to a guy.

So when he felt Alastor’s fingers worm their way under his hand during family movie night, he didn’t react immediately.

It all started when Charlie discovered Disney via a patron who had recently died and was sent straight to the hotel by her mother of all people, with a note that said There was a mix up in processing, she doesn’t belong here. Take care of her until your Uncle Gabriel can come get her New Years.

Charlie had nearly detonated fireworks inside the hotel in her excitement because an honest to grandfather heaven bound had been blessedly dropped onto her lap. It would be an absolute shame if she didn’t take advantage and pick her brain to see how she earned her halo so that she could apply it to her other patrons, specifically Angel Dust who seemed to drift further and further away from Heaven’s light.

Vaggie had told her, not for the first time either, that Angel was a lost cause but never let it be said that the Princess of Hell was not tenacious. Nor was she one to give up on her friends. He didn’t make it easy though...What with the turf wars and drugs and booze and constant sex and...yeah.

But here in her hands, she had a way to redemption and step one was obviously-

“I remember this studio,” said Angel when the opening jingle revealed the Disney Castle. He munched on some popcorn and nodded, “I remember watching Snow White, Pinocchio, and Bambi. Heh, Pinocchio scared the shit outa me. Growin up, pops told me that boys who were bad became jackasses .”

“Explains you,” muttered Vaggie into her mug of coco, nearly spilling it when Angel retaliated by throwing popcorn at her, “Hey!”

They had worked their way backwards, starting with the classics much to Alastor’s delight. Having grown up poor, all he had was a single fairytale book that was literally falling apart. Then he had discovered radio and then developed his fascination with murdering and...Well, he was glad to have this opportunity to experience fairytales again. Angel in particular liked Al’s eagerness for family movie night. It was cute.

That is until tonight when they were watching Bambi and they were at the part where hunters had killed the fawn’s mom. Charlie gasped from across them, turning to Vaggie for some explanation as to why this was in a children’s film. Husk sighed heavily and took a long drink from his beer bottle, Niffty quickly getting up to bring more drinks but Angel didn’t miss how she was wiping at her eye.

He glanced over at Alastor, whose eyes had become dials, and twisted his hand so that their fingers laced together, gently squeezing them and slowly raising his upper arm out to coax his friend to curl up next to him. It was a long shot that Al would allow this despite their friendship but to his surprise, Alastor fell into place and reached out his other hand to hold Angel’s lower left one.

Bambi had hit too close to home for Alastor and they needed a brief intermission shortly after Bambi’s dad took him in.

Water splashed on face and tears were wiped away. Snacks and drinks were replenished and they all made themselves comfortable again.

To Angel’s delight and horror, Alastor dragged a blanket over and made himself comfortable again tucked under Angel’s arm with a pleased smile, tail softly thumping against the couch when Angel rested his head on his.

Spring time in the movie lifted everyone’s moods from Charlie squealing at the cute little skunks, to Alastor’s ears perking up when Bambi fought for his doe. He felt Angel’s breath come out in a snort but didn’t question it until the movie was over and it was just them two picking up the living room.

Angel shrugged, “I don’t know, guess the love dovey stuff was a bit much.”

“I thought you like lovey dovey stuff.” Alastor tossed the folded blankets back into their basket.

“I do. It’s just that I don’t believe that it happens the way it happens in movies. It’s unrealistic if you ask me.”

“Yes, exactly! I feel the same way. Though I suppose with moving pictures, time is of the essence what with their limited time frame to tell their story.” Alastor helped Angel take the dirty cups and bowls back to the kitchen, putting the dishes into the sink and rolling up his sleeves while Angel put away the left over snacks.

“I take it that you aren’t a fan of the whole love at first sight trope either then, huh?”

Alastor grin widened, “Not at all, my dear. Though to be fair, I can’t say that I’m a fan of love either. Besides my mother, I never put much thought into loving someone else, never mind romantically.”

Angel’s heart ached at the deer’s words but he nodded anyway, “Yeah. Love is too messy anyway.” It had a nasty habit of making you see things that weren’t there. Of course Al didn’t feel the same way. Him cuddling and holding Angel’s hand didn’t mean anything. He was just cold and Bambi’s mom dying would’ve made anyone seek comfort in a friend.

“And requires far too much work,” agreed Alastor, his heart breaking at Angel’s dismissive words. But the work wasn’t as off putting to him as he thought. Charlie and Vaggie had their moments but months of being a shadow on the wall during their quarrels served to teach him that one disagreement didn’t have to mean the end of a relationship. If anything, working through it could make it stronger.

He felt Angel move next to him to dry the clean dishes. Alastor glanced at him from the corner of his eye, “Have you ever experienced...that is to say, have you ever been in love?”

Angel didn’t slow his methodological movements as he nodded.

“Oh.”

It had been almost silent but Angel heard it. He put the dishes away and waited for Al to finish washing the last few mugs, leaning an elbow on the counter and resting his cheek on his fist, “Have you?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“Indeed.” Alastor wondered why he even bothered indulging in his confusing thoughts. The owl had described what Angel made him feel down to walking on damn air. Only thing it had gotten wrong was it hadn’t been as quickly as it had been with Bambi or Thumper, or Flower. It had been after Angel had decreased his advances and increased his willingness to simply chat with him well into the evening. How he didn’t blink twice when he’d made his famous gumbo with meat from his hunt or judged him he had walked on him snacking on fingers like they had been buffalo wings one night. As a matter of a fact, Angel had taken his cannibalism without fuss at all though Alastor chalked that up with Angel being a predator demon himself.

Then it had been the way Angel carried himself, even when he was ‘on the clock’. What Alastor had once seen as vulgar promiscuity, he now saw as hunting tactics. And if Angel had fun during his means to an end well more power to him. It was when he was off the clock, though, that Alastor found him the most endearing. When he was playing with Fat Nuggets. When he was having girl time with Niffy and Charlie, playing poker with Husk, and watching documentaries with Vaggie.

It was the way Angel smiled when he did all of this, content and relaxed, that made Alastor’s head spin and heart flutter. The way he cried if the documentary was about nature and a cute animal died. It was the way Angel was weak by demon standards but strong by human. By his standards.

“Al?”

Alastor jumped when Angel gently shook him by the shoulder with a worried frown. He felt himself smile, “Yes, darling?”

“I said that the mugs are clean enough. Give’em here so we can go to bed.” Angel took the squeaky clean mugs from Alastor and quickly dried them, putting them in their cupboard and tossing the dish towel into a basket next to the sink.

The two demons stared at each other, waiting for something neither knew the other wanted.

Sighing, Angel shook his head and offered a small smile, “Alright, I’m gonna go hit the hay. See ya tomorrow, Smiles.”

“Sweet dreams, dear.” As Al watched Angel retreat, a moment of foolish bravery overcame him and he called out to him, “Angel!”

Angel paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder, “Yeah?” He watched as Alastor summoned his microphone to fiddle with more than anything, something he’d noticed the deer did when he was nervous. Strangely enough, Alastor only did that when they were alone. It was cute.

Having found the words he wanted, or gathered his courage, Alastor asked in an unfiltered voice, “Do ya think...Do y’think you could fall’n love again?”

Self restraint was surprisingly on of Angel’s stronger suits, despite what he led people to believe. And now, he was happy it was because without it, he would’ve overstepped Alastor’s personal space and ruin whatever it was that was happening right now. Instead he lowered his lids and smiled warmly, “Yeah, I could. What about you? Think you could give being twitterpated a shot?”

“I won’t act a fool like those little animals from the picture, will I?”

“Would you care?” Angel asked as he reached out a hand.

Alastor thought about it for a second but answered Angel’s smile with a warmer one of his own and laced his fingers with Angel’s, allowing the spider to lead him upstairs to bed, “Not at all.”

#radiodust #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #panda writes #I've written nothing but medical reports...#I need to practice fiction again #and what better than these two vintage husbands

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constancecunningham · 4 years

Text

Safe as Houses || Constance & Remmy

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Gallow’s End Estates

PARTIES: @whatsin-yourhead & @constancecunningham

SUMMARY: Shaken by her actions at the docks, Constance goes for a walk, but she isn’t alone. Remmy makes a proposition.

CONTAINS: Brief references to past abuse.

Remmy had a decision to make.

Life was still moving and they’d been standing still so long. It was time to decide if they were going to keep moving, or if they were going to stay still. Sure, they had forever, but that didn’t mean the people around them did. And forever wasn’t even guaranteed, was it? As long as slayers and hunters existed, nothing was guaranteed. Not that Remmy blamed them, but they had to accept the fact that even if they did nothing wrong, even if they presented no threat, did nothing bad, there would always be people like Alain who would cut them down anyway. Though he had agreed not to go after them until they hurt someone for real again, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind again. Or that someone else would come along who wasn’t willing to compromise. There were too many variables in forever, that was the one thing Remmy knew was true.

And so, it was with that in mind, that Remmy found themselves strolling through town, coming upon old places that they’d found comfort in in the past. Mooseventure, Al’s, the Commons...and lastly, the Bend. And the awful, dirty, shitty apartments they’d first lived in when moving here. And while the place had been just horrible, they’d met two of their very best friends while living here-- Blanche and Nora. And while Nora was off doing...who knew what, Blanche was still here. Still fighting. And Nora was around, she made sure maintenance came to the house to keep it in working order for the residents that did still live there, even if they were undead. They deserved a nice place, too.

It wasn’t until Remmy got closer to the building that they realized the person they’d seen standing out front wasn’t standing at all-- they were hovering, just above the ground, and Remmy could see straight through them. A ghost. Thoughts of Nadia flooded their head and Remmy hesitated a moment before they realized, again, that they recognized this ghost. She had been the ghost sitting next to Remmy on the bench in the park that day-- the day Morgan had died. This ghost was Constance. Remmy would never forget her face.

They walked up towards her nervously, but kept their demeanour calm. “You’re um...you’re Constance, right?”

Constance had fewer and fewer places left to her where she felt safe. Everywhere she explored, there Morgan was and there her rage blazed, weakening her grasp on her own soul, narrowing her vision to the size of a pinprick. And yet the sun rose and the sun set and she could not sleep. Perhaps, all this considered, returning to the outskirts where she had been born and the woods where she had played alone. Constance glimpsed the gray sunlight cut and scattered like flour through the many branches. She imagined that the sun remembered her, the trees remembered her, and the creatures she cared for and buried and the treasures she was so afraid to lose she buried them too and touched them not at all until they were useless--those must remember her too.

Drifting forwards, she explored further, searching for the way back home. Or what she had called and cursed as home. It had to be right around--

Oh.

Constance was no fool. This world had no love for brittle things like the excuse of a house she had been born in. No markers or ruins signified the life of her or anyone else she had crossed paths with. And yet, there were still ruins before her. Chipped and peeling print, exposed bricks of gray rock, falling shingles, a faint drip of a leak, somewhere. It almost brought a smile to Constance’s face, to know that this world, and this spot, was one still riddled with leeks. Inside people were cold, they cried, they hated, they starved. And most likely, no one would remember them any more than her. How to think of such a miserable life, now rendered into multiples like some catastrophic math riddle. Was it cursed ground? Was it her, or just the twisted bend of this world and the wickedness of the people who moved it?

She heard a voice call her name and turned. She knew the face, but its place didn’t come to her at once. “...Good day,” she said curiously. “You’re solid, real solid. I don’t have many of those that know my name. How are we--” And then it came to her. That day at the beach. Constance stiffened. “If this is another one of Morgan’s blessed stomping grounds, I can take my leave without being threatened,” she said. And she should leave, if this was true. She was so weak, and so angry. She wanted Moran’s death to be something precise, even elegant. She couldn’t manage that if even looking at the woman riled her to snapping light bulbs.

“What? No,” Remmy said, shaking their head. “It’s not-- it’s not. This is uh-- I used to live here.” They motioned to the apartment building down the way, as ragged and decrypt as the houses surrounding it. This had nothing to do with Morgan, and Remmy found it all the more quiet when they realized that, too. They turned to look back at Constance. “Why are you back? You know she-- she wants to hurt you, because of what you did, what you’re...doing.” They weren’t sure what to feel yet, only that they knew they could sense a deep sorrow coming from the specter, and the idea of one of her closest, best friends wanting to harm someone simply to harm them. That wasn’t the person they thought Morgan was, but it terrified them, deep down. And they weren’t sure if it was the thought of her hurting someone or the thought that Remmy hadn’t known her capable that scared them more. “It’s not safe here for you.”

Constance grew more confused. For people who were determined to align themselves with the Bachman family, Morgan’s friends demonstrated a strange amount of concern for her. “I never left,” she said carefully, waiting for the subterfuge to reveal itself. “I saw her bleeding on the street, and there was so much noise I thought even you wouldn’t hear how I screamed with relief. I was sure I had never done anything more perfectly. Did you know that there were only two other casualties? I regret them as sins and doubtless I will be punished eventually, but all those machines, all that glass and noise and screaming, and she was gone by her own doing with only two more people caught in the crossfire.” Constance’s voice softened, wistful. “And I thought, I want to stay to see the moon and the stars and a new sun, in a world with no more survivors of the Bachman line. And I saw it. And then I thought, alright, that must be enough now. Only I didn’t fade. And I think I’ve tried rather hard at it, but no one I ask can tell me the secret, because if they had it, they wouldn’t be here still. But here we are. I can only think that some part of me suspected the truth all along. I did nothing perfect. I only made her into more of a monster.” She went quiet, regarding the strange figure again. “I don’t care about being hurt. And I don’t care about what she wants to do. I want what I asked for.” What was so very hard to understand about that? “Why is this not safe? If you’re not going to beat me with iron or tell her where to find me, why wouldn’t I be safe? Why is it any concern to you in the first place?”

Remmy wasn’t good at this part. There was a struggle going on in their heart and it made them feel sick. Morgan was their best friend, they should be on her side for this-- but Constance was clearly suffering, too, and even if she’d been the one who’d put Morgan’s death into action, did she not deserve a chance at forgiveness as well? If Morgan got that chance, why not her? Simply because she was a ghost? And so young. Younger than Remmy. Younger than Nadia. Remmy wiped at their one exposed eye. “What’d they do to you?” they asked quietly, ignoring everything else for now. “The-- the Bachmans. What made you so...sad?” And they chose the word carefully, pausing for a long moment before saying it, because it was a very particular feeling they heard in her voice. It seemed like such an innocuous word, but Remmy could find no other to describe it. The sound was so familiar, so close to their heart. “It’s not safe because...when people want to hurt you, it doesn’t matter who you are or how you feel, they’ll do it. And it’s just-- it’s just another cycle of violence. Why does everyone wanna hurt each other so much? Why does anger have to be the emotion we respond to? Does anyone really think making someone else hurt fixes anything? Makes anything feel better?” They sniffled again. “It’s my concern because I don’t want to see you hurt. You or Morgan or anyone. I’ve had enough.”

Constance rolled her eyes and turned back to look at the building that had replaced her family’s house. She felt nothing as she drifted through the world, but she could feel the despair coming from this place. “Why do you care?” She huffed. “It was tragical, and foolish, and I lost everything. Even before I cast the spell, I had nothing left but myself. And handkerchiefs worth of objects I had on my person, but those were worthless, too.” A picture. A phony charm. Some cornbread. A flattened penny. The paper she’d used to make her plan with Agnes. A baby’s rattle would have been worth more in comparison. “My father said I was born melancholic. And cruel. He said a great many things, but perhaps he was right about the way I was born. It is difficult to come to an end such as this and feel as though you were not fated to pain from the start. And if you cannot understand a feeling such as mine, if you have never needed to see your pain paid back threefold, if you have never needed to feel a name and a line burnt out by time once and for all, I should think you wouldn’t want to taste it.” But the figure persisted, and Constance wondered if they knew Blanche Harlow as well. “Morgan is my only missing piece,” she said. “And my worst, for of course it should be this way,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It used to be that you couldn’t walk half a mile without running to a Bachman relative, or Bachman owned land, or a Bachman friend. And now I have one fiend of a woman so small, she’s practically the size of a child. I think I’ve accomplished a great deal. I’ve changed the world. If that was your only wish, and you’d paid for it with your self, wouldn’t you risk paying again to see it done? To be finished, and have your wish come true?”

“I don’t know,” Remmy answered honestly, “I just do. I can’t help it.” And they couldn’t. And the more they thought about it, the more they realized they’d always felt this way. They’d always had a bleeding heart, hadn’t they? Even when they were a child, so angry and lost and scared, all they’d wanted was to help other people. Taking the fall for things that weren’t their fault; letting others use them if only to make themselves feel better; helping others even when they were struggling themself. Remmy had always felt the pain of the world around them and wanted to help-- it had just taken death for them to realize that. Swallowing, they looked square at Constance. “No, I wouldn’t,” they finally said, once Constance was done speaking, and was looking at them for some sort of validation. “But that’s just me.” They knew everyone, everything was different. “Doing that will just turn you cold, you know. I-- I understand how you feel. Maybe not entirely, but I do, on some level. I grew up with nothing. No mom, a deadbeat dad, poor as shit...and queer, to boot. People all told me I was never going to be good for anything. That all I did was bring others pain. I was trouble. I wasn’t worth it.” They swallowed, clearing their throat of the tears that threatened. “But they were wrong. Because...they don’t get to decide who I am and what I’m worth. I get to decide that. And-- it took me a long time to figure that out, but I did. And it’s true for you, too. What do you even gain by killing Morgan? By destroying a family line? Whatever pain they caused you-- it was so long ago. Morgan is so far away from whoever really hurt you, the pain you cause now just starts a new cycle of pain and violence and-- why would you want that? Don’t you want peace? Don’t you want...to be happy?”

The story the figure told was so familiar, Constance couldn’t bring herself to trust it. Perhaps someone had written about her, perhaps her death had meant more than one more miserable, nameless body in the woods. Which was more plausible? That some misguided record and put down the details of her cruel existence, or that this stranger, this person who had screamed and cried over what Constance had done would possibly understand her? “You don’t understand anything about me,” she said stubbornly. She drifted away from the building, away from this...person. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m trying to conserve my energy and be stable! A solid like you wouldn’t understand that either.” She wanted them to go and leave her be. A world that ignored Constance was painful but it was at least familiar. And perhaps if she stomped on her feelings enough she could find the words to explain how hopeless she truly was, and how little she had left beyond her wish. She bound herself to it that night, however many moons ago. Constance wasn’t sure if she would know how to let go until it was finished, even if she was mad enough to ever want to.

“Yeah, I do,” Remmy insisted, following after her. “Life treated you like shit-- you never got anything good and happy. And then when you finally did, it took it from you, right? It tore everything away, including yourself?” They went around her-- remembering how Nadia had said she didn’t like being ignored and walked through-- and stopped in front of her. She could easily phase through them, they supposed, but it was the act that mattered, right? “If you really think you’re the only one that’s ever suffered, you’ve got a big reality check coming, Constance. I died, too, you know,” they said, crossing their arms over their chest. “Alone and afraid and only after watching the rest of my world be destroyed. The only difference is that I woke up solid and you woke up transparent. That doesn’t make you any less of a person, or-or any less worth being given a chance. Maybe-- maybe you’re still here because this is your second chance to do better, to be better. To be...happy. And don’t-- don’t tell me what I do and don’t understand. I understand a lot more than you-- or anyone-- thinks.” And they were tired of everyone thinking they didn’t. They were tired of being pushed aside.

“If only I had truly been here this long,” Constance said bitterly. “If I had really been here this long, I might have finished my curse before your wretched friend was ever born. But when I bargained myself, I went…” Constance didn’t know the words for what had happened to her. There was nothing like it in any scripture she had ever read, Christian, Pagan, or otherwise. “It was like sleep, but it wasn’t. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know that my house was trampled like it never mattered, or that there were huge petrol beasts coloring the air or that a girl can get made fun of for wearing a dress now, that was a stupendous treat to discover while I was visible. By the heavens, I wish I had really been here for so many years! I would know what to do with this nothing body better!” She was getting upset again. Lights behind her were flickering, screaming strange, buzzing, artificial screams. “I...woke up...in a circle. When she brought me here,” Constance said carefully, voice trembling. “To hurt me. I died and then I...was there, and I had lost even more than I knew how to reckon for. And I don’t think I’m the only one who’s ever suffered. I just think I’m willing to do something about it. I wasted my power when I was alive, mostly, but I won’t make that mistake again. I was a witch beyond measure, and even in death I can rebalance the scales. If there’s anything being in this wretched era has taught me, it’s that time bends long and slowly. Maybe you don’t see the point in what I’m doing or what I want, but maybe the stars and the trees will, maybe the lives that can grow without so much destruction or meddling. And I will know. I’ll know I didn’t just take it, or give up or ‘get over’ it.” She sighed, and realized what a fool’s gesture it was. “I don’t know if I am a person. I don't feel that way all the time, and however I try to be better, whatever I touch so far has turned to destruction and hut, and not even that which I intended. I think my soul is...strange, at best. But I do appreciate...whatever it is you are trying to do. There are not many kind people here. It is good to know they continue to exist, however few.”

“Morgan isn’t wretched,” Remmy said quietly, “and neither are you.” They were quiet for a long while, not flinching when Constance made the lights flicker and screech with electric hums. They looked over to the decaying apartments, then back to the spirit, and felt another tug at their heart. “She didn’t summon you to hurt you, you know,” they finally said. “She just wanted answers. To why her life was always falling apart, to why she wasn’t allowed happiness. You can...relate to that a little, can’t you?” They didn’t know what they were searching for in any answers from Constance, but they knew that she was trapped in a world that she wasn’t allowed to escape, suffering more pain. Remmy looked at her with eyes full of sorrow. “This world is-- scary, yeah. There’s a lot of not good things in it, but...there’s a lot of good, too, you know. You just haven’t...seen it yet. I could show you, if you want,” they wondered if she was even still listening, “if you’d give me the chance. Not everything here is destruction and meddling, like you said. And...certainly none of it is because of one person. Cursed or not.” They paused, biting their bottom lip, before continuing. “You are a person. Maybe different than the kind of person you remember being, but...you’re still a person. Just as much as me, or anyone else. And I think...I think maybe your soul is just a little lost. And I don’t think you deserve to be hurt just because of that.”

Constance couldn’t cry or rail at the stubbornness of this person, not without destroying yet even more of the world, and she did not want to rush to disappoint herself or Blanche even further. But it was all she could do to keep herself from it. She wanted to laugh, or fall over from the incredulity of it all, but feared the impact of that feeling as well. Could a shade such as she disrupt the world from delight? Had such a thing ever happened before? “What manner of creature are you?” She asked, shaking her head. “You know better than many what I am capable of. What I have done. ...What is it you really want from me?”

“I don’t...I don’t want anything from you, Constance,” Remmy said back, shaking their head again. “That’s not...I just want to help you. I know you’re probably alone and afraid...and I know how that feels. I don’t want anyone to have to feel that way.” They mumbled, hands digging into their pockets. Constance wasn’t safe, just drifting out among the general population. There were hunters and exorcists and mediums everywhere. She was already having such a hard time even keeping her spirit body together. It reminded Remmy of some of the ghosts they’d seen wandering the old haunted mansion. Slowly, an idea struck them. “Hey, you, um-- you said you’re having trouble staying stable, right? Figuring out this...spirit thing? What if I had a place for you to go? Where there’s other ghosts and it’s safe. No one can hurt you there. Would you come with me?”

The idea of such a place had never occurred to Constance. She couldn’t imagine it in her head, except as some euphemism for a ghost prison. They didn’t make human proof vessels, only salt and iron lines that tore her apart for trying to exist. But this...whoever they were, were so persistent. Surely if this was some jest or a trap, they would be worn out by now? Or would they? Constance had learned the hard way how persistent a lie could be. Perhaps this was how they proved their loyalty to Morgan, by luring her into a trap.

Constance hesitated for a long time. She should know better than to believe in...oh, so many things. But she said, “Tell me where it is and I will find it on my own. I can find out if it’s what you say it is or not. Who are these ghosts who trust you anyway?”

“Right, yeah,” Remmy said, nodding slowly once Constance finally spoke. “It’s um-- here,” they motioned for her to follow them around the building to where the horizon broke and on top of a small hill sat the mansion, off in the distance, beyond the cemetery. “It’s that house there. I, um-- used to live there, actually. When we moved in, there were already ghost residents so we just sorta...let ‘em stay. Didn’t seem fair to make them leave, you know? We had to establish ground rules and stuff, but we made it safe. For us and for them,” they explained. “We’re all just people. I think they...liked being seen. I would sit with them, even the ones that didn’t talk. It felt nice...to be needed by them.” They paused, went quiet, then looked over at Constance one last time. “Come whenever you want, no obligation. But...it’s safe there. I promise.” And even if it wasn’t yet, Remmy would make sure it was.

#safe as houses #wr remmy #wr chatzy #wr remmy chatzy #abuse tw

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kyloswarstars · 4 years

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Eric Coulter, you’re a bastard • part 1 – “the start of the end?” Divergent • Mini-Series AU

How do you say sorry when you have fucked up basically everything? Eric isn’t sure. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to ever earn your forgiveness. On the other hand: why should you forgive him? He had made the mistake of his life.

A story about Professor Eric Coulter, Harold the chimpanzee, midnight coffees and fries in the auditorium. You and Eric, Ms. Giraffe and Mr. FBI, trying to conquer life together until Eric did what he thought would be the best for you.

Pairing • Eric x Reader

Warnings • language

Words • 1.8k

Eric Coulter, you’re a bastard • masterlist

/////

Eric Coulter, you’re a bastard

Your words burned into his retina. Eric still saw them when he closed his eyes. The phone screen was way too bright for his dark bedroom.

He didn’t know what to respond. He was a bastard. And all the other words you had described him with. His thumb hovered above the ‚S‘ to start off with a ‚sorry‘. When he saw the three dots, that implied you were typing, he stopped and didn’t say sorry.

Fucking stay away from me

He had fucked up. Eric shut his eyes but still saw your words. In the past there had been a lot of fighting and a lot of curse words because that was just how your relationship had worked – even though a relationship therapist may would have said that it wasn’t the healthiest way to interact with each other.

This was different though. This was the pain speaking he had caused. The burning brightness in his eyes got too much. He teared up although he tried so hard not too. Eric almost threw the phone across the room so he didn’t have to see your bright words anymore but then saw the three dots again.

And this time I mean forEVER

////////// 2 years ago //////////

„And here is the house where Mrs. Smith killed Mr. Smith because he had mowed the lawn the wrong direction.“

It’s been only the second night in the new city and Eric already went to a frat party. He shouldn’t be in this car. In his position he shouldn’t become friends with students. He should befriend professors. He should spend his free time at fancy dinner parties, in a suit – or at least a jacket – and a tie. An appletini in one hand and a cigar or some shit in the other. He didn’t really know how those dinner parties really were. Eric had never accepted a single invitation.

It was hard for him to keep a straight face while teaching college students that were only a few years younger than him. His career had started early due to his father who had ‚supported him all the time and just wanted the best for his son‘. Sometimes Eric was still angry that his father had pushed him into this path so early. But he had learned to accept it. After all, teaching was something he enjoyed. He never thought he would, but he did. And he really liked to be that approachable, cool dude of a professor his students weren’t afraid to talk to.

He had been so good with declining invitations – he shouldn’t have taken the one to this frat party of his new students. It had led him to sitting in the car of a pizza boy, who’s name was Rafael. He had delivered about twenty pizzas earlier. It turned out Rafael had been the cousin of Carlo, one of Eric’s students, who had the really great idea to drive to that 24 hours opened pet store and cuddle with rabbits. On the way there they gave Eric a sightseeing tour with the weirdest facts about Chicago.

They were driving slowly through a quiet residential neighborhood that didn’t belong to the campus. The car was slow enough that, when a figure appeared right in front of it, it came to an instant stop.

An extremely upset face was illuminated by the headlights. Suddenly you banged your fist on the hood. And a second time with both of your hands formed to fists.

„Get out there!“ Your voice was clear and sharp. The yelling in this quiet street would probably get the attention of some already sleeping parents.

„Oh damn.“ Rafael in the driver seat wiped his forehead.

„Rafael I said get out!“ You seemed to know exactly who had nearly run you over.

Rafael unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, slowly got out but didn’t go to you. He waited right behind his door. „Get in the car and let us talk later. Not here.“

„Do you think I care about who’s going to hear us?“ You seemed a bit insane. But maybe you were just furious because you nearly got killed. Maybe the beer had fogged Eric’s head. Under normal circumstances he would’ve never gotten between a woman as furious as you and a guy as intimidated as him. At least not before someone threw punches. But in his slightly drunk state he thought it was a good idea to get out of the car as well and be a mediator.

Before he was even able to say something, your fierce glance switched to him. „What are you looking at me?“

Eric’s hands got up like you pointed a gun at him. „I’m not looking at all.“

„Of course you are!“ You blinked at the headlights and studied him like a hunter it’s prey. Yes, he was looking at you. Your livid facial features amazed Eric’s cloudy mind. „Who are you even?“ You didn’t care about his answer though and walked over to Rafael.

„I’ve been searching for you for about an hour. Your shift ended at 9 and you said you’d be there to help me!“

Rafael’s head hung low. Getting scolded by a furious woman like you was probably not a nice thing to experience. „I forgot. Sorry.“

„Yeah, clearly you forgot.“ You opened the door behind Rafael’s and ordered the guys on the backseats to make room – they instantly obeyed. Eric felt like they all knew you too well to disobey your order. „Can you drive now? I have to get back our chimpanzee.“

Eric didn’t stay longer than ten minutes in that car. After Rafael almost run you – his twin sister – over, you had given four more orders.

1: „Rafael, turn on the heating, I’m freezing from walking over an hour through the cold to search your ass“ 2: „Ew Carlo, take your hands off of me. I’m your cousin“ 3: „Since you’re all here, you’re going to help me get Harold back from those fanatics who think they can care better for him“

Eric guessed that ‚Harold‘ must be the chimpanzee you had talked about getting back.

4: „And please throw this weirdo, who keeps staring at me, out of the car“

He should be glad he got thrown out before he got pulled into something that ended in breaking the law. Since this was only his second night in Chicago he didn’t have a clue where he was. It was hard to find a taxi so he ordered an Uber which was there to get him in under five minutes.

Back in his apartment, which was still incredibly chaotic because unpacking wasn’t one of his strengths, he just tried to forget one of the weirdest evenings of his life by falling asleep on his mattress.

/////

When his alarm woke him up the next morning, he was still not used to his mattress laying on the floor. Eric didn’t know where his bed frame was and didn’t feel the urge to search for it. Not yet. Unpacking was a process. It could take weeks. And rushing himself was a thing he consequently protested because it had a negative impact on his wellbeing. In simple words: He was lazy.

And because of that, the coffee machine was right beside the mattress. Still half laying, he pressed the button to get a fresh coffee. Thirty seconds later he grabbed the cup and sat up, resting his back on the cold wall behind him.

Today was his second day teaching at the new college. He wasn’t ready. Not after ending the first day with this crazy car ride.

And as if the universe had known his thoughts, he froze in his movements when he entered the auditorium and studied the college students. You were sitting there. In the auditorium. In his auditorium. You were… his student.

////////// current day //////////

The phone screen made a cracking sound when it came in contact with the floor.

Fuck. He couldn’t leave your texts unanswered.

Eric got out of the bed, hurried to get dressed, ran to get his keys and then left the apartment. Maybe he woke up the whole street with the rapid start of his bike and rushing down the street, but he couldn’t care less.

He always hated that you were living so far out of the city. You were still living with your family – for obvious reasons and he couldn’t blame you. Tonight though, he really wished you would’ve agreed to move in with him. But you had turned that down like so many other ideas he had offered to build a future together.

There were no lights in the windows of your house. He couldn’t just creep around the house and hope for an opened window. Eric pulled out his phone with the cracked screen and opened the conversation. It was horrible to see your words screaming at him like that.

„I told you to leave me alone. Once and for all.“ Honestly, he didn’t think you would even answer the call, but you did, whispering like you weren’t mad at all. That was a bad sign. „Was this your bike’s engine being cut off?“

How should he start talking? What should he say? Which one of the thousand sorry’s should he offer first? How should he start to explain why he did what he did?

„Eric, what are you doing in our front yard?“

He could see the shape of a person in the window of your father’s room. You were staring at him. Your fast breathing echoed in his ear. There was no way you would forgive him. The realization that your relationship was unrepairable broken nearly drove him insane. How should he breath and eat and sleep and just be when you weren’t part of his life anymore?

„Scolding myself for telling them it was you who had kidnapped Harold after they finally stopped searching for him.“

Falling for you had been the easiest thing Eric had ever done. Before he knew you he thought body functions, that happened automatically, were the easiest things to do because you didn’t have a choice – you just breathed. It was the same with you, though. He just fell for you. And that, he did every single day for two years now. He didn’t know if he could ever stop.

You didn’t answer but he could still hear you breathing into the phone. He could still see you standing there at the window. Had you been watching over your father again while he was sleeping? Had you been reading him Pippi Longstocking again like he had done it when you were little – even though he probably didn’t hear you? Why did you not just hang up? Why did you wait?

„Why?“ Your stifled question broke his heart. He tried not to picture your face right now – this situation was already unbearable.

„Because I love you.“

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tabikato · 4 years

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Chapter 6 of my #DragonAge fanfic is up!! Time for Alistair and Hue to take the tower! It’s an hour or two before Alistair finds their new warden again. They had carried him to one of the tents to sleep off the Joining, the physical stress almost as bad as the mental. However, when he came to check up on him, the elf was nowhere to be found...blankets tossed to the side and weapons gone. A sinking feeling of losing the third one had him rushing out the tent and scouring the area. He really didn't want to deliver this news to Senior Warden. Hey Duncan, so seems we have NO recruits, why? Well, I do believe the third one just took a permanent vacation away from here. The fear was short-lived when he saw the familiar puff of blonde hair...lone figure sitting rather still as if he’d find some answers in the dancing embers and ash of the campfire. Hue heard the footsteps from behind but didn’t bother to turn around...didn’t feel a need or want to face the other at this moment.

“There you are, thought you made a run for it.” Alistair’s head dropped as soon as he'd stopped talking, really great choice of words there. Solid.

“Would have just killed me like you did Jory.” There was no anger or spite in his tone, only resignation...as if those were merely facts of life and he had come to term with them. It didn’t feel right to hear such a desolate tone from the usually high-energy elf but Alistair supposes the situation was a heavy one. After all...Hue wasn’t entirely wrong so there wasn’t any way the human could dispute those words.

“We lost one in my Joining as well, it was horrible. I doubt I will ever get used to it”, Hue looked sideways as Alistair sat next to him, voice whispering with somber tints, “I’m glad at least one of you made it through.” Brown met red as they looked at each other for a moment, Hue rolling this information around in his head. The Joining was secret because not many people would willingly give up their lives for a chance...yet Gray Wardens are needed to stop the Blight or else everyone dies. Even knowing that he knew, deep down, not many people would see the sacrifice as necessary. Death is scary...dying is scary, he joined in order to escape death and only went through with it because no matter his outcome there would always be death. It didn’t seem fair to anyone involved...but then he thinks of Daveth who was not dying and willingly drank from that cup, knowing his sacrifice meant the world. Of Alistair who also drank, a chance he might die but taking that plunge.

This was making his head hurt.

“I don’t like thinking too much on this complicated stuff”, Hue finally spoke up, piecing together the thoughts he needed to say, “and I don’t think it’s fair but...I know Gray Wardens save people. They sacrifice so they can so I don’t think you guys are bad people. And now I can protect people too.” Blowing some strands of his hair from his face, he turns to glance at the other Warden. Alistair looked in thought but nodded, seeming to accept Hue’s decision.

“I’m glad you’re here to stay with us.”

“So you’re not the junior anymore? Or you’d be lonely?” Barely a beat passed before a smirk made its way onto the elf’s face, lightly punching the human in the arm.

“First off, ow. Second, OW. Why are you always aiming where it hurts?”

“You’re a really big target”, Alistair looked as if he was going to pout, mouth open to remind Hue who was in charge here but...the one who was in charge spoke up to them.

“Alistair. Hue. The King wishes to speak with us, come to the war table when you are able.” Duncan’s voice knocked their jovialness back in line, both men sitting straight up and replying with a “yes, sir”. Watching the older man walk off, Hue stood up to join Duncan before Alistair stopped him.

“Wait. Here…”, he held out a simple pendant; dirty gold with a reddish hue in the open glass and placed it in Hue’s hand, “ we take some of the blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us...of those who didn’t make it this far.” Gently he pulls out a similar one from inside his own armor and Hue's eyes widened before he nodded.

“Gotcha.” Slipping it over his head, he buried it within his shirt, cold metal burning into skin with the reminder that his heart was beating. He was still alive.

Odd. That’s about all he could describe that meeting with the King and the man named Loghain. Supposedly they were family...King’s wife being his daughter or something, it didn’t really matter to him. What was odd was how much disdain the two had for each other and neither kept it a secret. Yet nobody said anything about it, ignoring it like it was a mild breeze tossing through their hair. In his clan things were settled if there were disputes, whether by the Keeper or by one of their laws. Everyone was family in a way and they all had to cooperate to survive, to keep the clan running, so petty squabbles disrupting the order were very much frowned upon.

So why did they have to suffer through this? Duncan and Alistair seemed quite used to ignoring it so Hue surmised this was definitely a human thing. Were humans always this petty? Well...okay, maybe not all the humans he met were but some of them had made it really far on the list. Thinking back to the meeting it was also odd that Hue and Alistair were even there; they were juniors and weren’t in any sort of decision-making position. This idea seemed to be shared with Loghain and despite the man’s rather unpleasant scowl, Hue couldn’t help but think he made some fair points. Normally you would not have the clan’s leader out in front, one wrong move and their death was too great of a loss. The Gray Wardens made more sense to fight the darkspawn head on, with the armies as support, but the King refused to listen, wanting to play hero with them.

What an idiot. Oh, they’re arguing again...this is boring.

“They are, your majesty.” Duncan’s voice knocked him out of his self-inflicted daze, noticing that both he and Alistair were being addressed now.

“And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order.” Congratulations? Hue squints a little, mouth forming a thin line as he tries to digest those words. The King stood there, waiting for an answer with a stupid smile on his face and Hue almost considered telling him where he could stuff that congratulations until Duncan cleared his throat. Fine.

“Not sure what for? I’m not special.” And he wasn’t, in his mind. True he managed to pass the Joining which apparently did make something special out of him but managing to stay alive when two others died didn’t seem like a skill to him. That was pure luck and luck, to him, didn’t make him special or feel favoured in any way.

“Oh, but you are. Every Gray Warden is needed now more than ever.” Cailin’s puffed up pride was quickly cut down by Loghain. Good thing too because neither man noticed Hue quietly mocking those words which caused a rather funny snort to come from Alistair’s throat.

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailin”, the old man didn’t even hide his annoyance, scolding the King right in his face, “We must attend to reality!”

“Fine. Speak your strategy. The Gray Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?”

“You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover.” Silver and Gold flinted in the candlelight surrounding the map as both men leaned in, metal fingers drawing paths along the lines and symbols. So...they were going to be on the front line, huh? Hue could use a dagger but he worked better with his bow, were there any high spots out in front? Some of the stone facings could be climbed and he’d have enough height for his shots, that way he could cover Duncan, Alistair, and the rest.

“Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Gray Warden to make sure it’s done.” Wait...what? Blinking, he stared back over at the armored men. What were he and Alistair supposedly doing now? Lighting a tower?

“You mean we won’t be fighting in the battle?” His mouth moved on its own, brows creased as he realised exactly what this meant. Should have known...the bottom of the group is always made into errand boys.

“We need the beacon. Without it, Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.” He really wanted to argue that lighting a stupid fire wasn’t what he signed himself up for but then remembered he didn’t exactly sign up in the first place. Oh, whatever. There’d be plenty more darkspawn to fight later he’s sure of it.

“You see? Glory for everyone!” Considering he didn’t want to become a pincushion he kept the thought of wiping that dumb smile off this human’s face to himself. Loghain started in on the King again...Duncan tried to intervene but was shot down by them both and oh look, more humans coming to the argue party. Why is it such a hard concept for them all to work together? Darkspawn or Archdemon, it won’t care who it kills only that it kills and they’re going to make it easier for them to kill if everyone is running around like agitated chickens. No wonder the other hunters always called humans a rightful mess, how do they even manage to get anything done with all this bickering?

“Enough!” Oh finally. “This plan will suffice. The Gray Wardens will light the beacon.” Loghain’s dark eyes met with Hue’s red, the elf staring back with no readable emotion. The old man took this as his cue to turn and leave.

“Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Gray Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!” Cailin’s head tilted up in pride, chest puffed out as much as one could in heavy armor.

“Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all.”

“You heard the plan. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit.” Back at the bonfire Duncan reiterated the plan, pointing to both men to ensure they heard it well. These two as individuals tend to run on the reckless side but both together, alone, as a team. Duncan wasn’t sure what the outcome would be but he knew they’d at least follow his orders. Of course he expected them both to complain about it considering their personalities.

“So he needs two Gray Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?” There was no hiding the sarcasm in Alistair’s voice. He crossed his arms, cocking a brow in visible annoyance.

“Like he said, we’re better off being in battle! Not babysitting a torch!”

“That is not your choice!” Hue's mouth snapped shut as Duncan’s voice grew firmer, “If King Cailan wishes Gray Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Gray Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn...exciting or no.” Hue wanted to argue the fact that Cailan was no king of his and Gray Wardens should be fighting darkspawn, not falling in line to the whims of royalty.

“I get it. I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.” Indignant reply forgotten, Hue snorted out a laugh at Alistair’s dry delivery.

“Dunno, that’d be a great distraction.”

“Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing.” Duncan sighed as these two laughed at this ridiculous idea, letting them have a moment to get it out of their system.

“Who says they wouldn’t find you charming?” Hue’s laugh went louder as Alistair huffed out a mixture of disgust at the notion and laughter at how stupid it was.

“Do you think I’d look fetching enough?”

“Why not? Go for a red dress though.”

“Are you two quite done?” Both looked away from each other, like two children being scolded, trying to stifle the grins that refuse to leave their faces and Duncan just sighs once more. “The Tower is on the other side of the gorge from the King’s camp, the way we came when we arrived. We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for. Do not leave this task to join the battle, this is of the utmost importance and I am trusting you two.” With that last bit both men stood up a little straighter, their focus more serious. Seems they were willing to prove they were worthy of that trust.

“What if the Archdemon appears?”

“We soil our drawers, that’s what.” Alistair couldn’t help himself and both men almost fell into laughter again before Duncan's sharp look halted them.

“If it does, leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you.”

“Never. Heroics is what the King does.” Rubbing his temples, he lets Hue have this one before continuing with his instructions. Alistair only raised an eyebrow on that, thinking to ask Hue later why he was so...aggressive in his speech towards the King. The elf certainly didn’t take that tone with either him or Duncan so maybe something was said...done? Nothing came to mind however.

“There will be plenty of battles for both of you later”, Duncan added on, crossing his arms, he looked over his two juniors, “I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Gray Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.” With a nod he walked down towards his troops, that nagging feeling he has felt for weeks never leaving him but they would be prepared...they had to be. Watching the older man leave, Hue looked from Duncan’s back to the skyline and to the silhouette of the tower they would soon be climbing.

“Well then…”, Alistair’s voice broke through his thoughts, “let’s get on our dancing shoes and go put on a show.” Patting the elf on the back, their grins grew once more as they began their preparations.

Sheer chaos were the only words Hue could think of to perfectly describe the scenes flitting past him. Alistair and him couldn’t stop, running across the bridge and dodging fallen soldiers and rocks smashing against the stone surface. Screams shattered through the sounds of explosions and rock, through the roar of the crowd below and fire engulfing the unlucky bodies of targets found. Adrenaline surged in his veins, letting him make it through the narrow run of the bridge and up into the courtyard where they met with some of Cailan’s men and...darkspawn.

“Darkspawn have taken the tower!”

“How?!”, he could hear Alistair’s shout over the clanging of swords and the tearing of flesh, another creature fell to his blade. One of Hue's arrows sunk deep into the open throat of one charging at them, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

“They flooded in and took the lower chambers!”

“Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!” With a plan set in motion, they fought their way to the entrance of the tower, not stopping to look back even once. Each floor was filled with them, with traps that Hue disarmed in a blink of an eye and soon a path of red followed. At some point he couldn’t tell if the red was from human or darkspawn and really, he’d rather not think about it. The smell itself was a bit distracting but even more so was that the further they went up, the stronger it was instead of less.

“We won? Yay, we won, haha..ow...ow, yay…”, Alistair piped up behind him as they slayed yet another room of creatures with their two nameless companions. His strained cheers were left unanswered, noticing the elf was far too focused on the large doors up the stairs, nose scrunched up in a worried look. “Hue?”

“Why are we fighting more the higher we go?” Eyes went wide with realization, the number of bodies indeed looked way too numerous for how much they’ve climbed.

“Maker’s breath...what are they doing here?”, sheathing his sword he walked up to his companion, stepping over a few shredded corpses in the process, “There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!”

“You could try telling them they’re in the wrong place.”

“Right. Because clearly this is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll laugh about this later.” An elbow on his arm made Hue turn, seeing the serious look on the other’s face, “At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain is waiting!” No disagreement there. Nodding, he makes his way up the stairs, throwing the doors open as they stumble into yet another battle.

Even with his usual stamina Hue was definitely feeling the strain with each wave hitting them harder than the last. What was probably only minutes seemed like an eternity as body after body fell to either his arrows or Alistair’s sword. At least in the midst of this mess the two managed to create some sort of unspoken team work, flawlessly watching the other’s back. No praise or congratulations were to be had though, they had to keep pushing...up until the last door of the tower in which they wasted no time marching through.

Which, Hue would think later on, was probably the worst idea they had all night as they came face to face with a gigantic monster. Hearing their approach, it stopped it’s feast on whatever unlucky corpse it had killed and turned to face them. Horns gnarled and twisting reached to the heavens, skin a sickly gray as it stretched over muscles that seemed to want to burst forth. It’s face was cracked and rough like the bark of an old tree with pearl-colored eyes sunk deep in the sockets. However Hue noticed something far worse about this enormous monstrosity, the large mouth of jagged teeth as it’s roar shook them all to their core. What little armor it had on did nothing to make it less frightening...those teeth and claws more than made up for it.

Jumping back, Hue let loose a few arrows into its chest once it rushed them, grabbing the other warrior that stood beside Alistair in it's giant grip. They could only watch as the human was picked up like a doll, shaken in that clenching fist before another punched him repeatedly. Alistair charged with his sword, swiping at its back and legs but the skin was like rough leather. He wasn’t sure how much damage he was even doing, if he was at all. Throwing the poor swordsman to the side, body skidding across the floor in a lifeless lump, it turned its attention to Alistair who luckily enough managed to jump out of the way. The weariness that had settled in his bones had been replaced, now fear and rage were driving his body, reflexes heightened as he took every vital shot he could get.

Between the arrows, sword, and magic, the beast started to falter. The perfect opportunity presenting itself when its massive body stumbled back, throwing its arms wide open. Hue took it, pulling out his dagger and running up its body to stab it right in the eye. Spit sprayed in his face as it roared, thrashing around with pain but he held on to whatever he could, stabbing into the other eye with a sickening squish. No longer did the beast thrash, instead he could hear the life drain from its throat and crash backwards to the floor. The impact threw him off, rolling him along the smooth stone as blood and spit smeared across his armor and skin. Alistair’s hand grabbed his arm, hoisting him up, panting breaths filling the now silent room before they suddenly remembered why they were even there.

“The beacon!” Both came to the same thought and rushed over, Alistair grabbing the nearby torch and throwing it into the fireplace. Instantly the fire grew and grew, spewing up the chute in a bright column before their very eyes. Thank the gods, they had made it...somehow and now Loghain’s army could move in to turn the tide.

Their muscles only had mere moments to relax before the door burst open but instead of soldiers, darkspawn flooded into the room in a massive hoard. Arrows flew at them, catching them both off guard and he cried out in pain when one embedded itself into his shoulder. Fighting it, he shot off a few of his own but there were too many...too much stamina lost as his muscles felt like liquid at this point. Alistair’s body being thrown across the room distracted him, another arrow sinking into his flesh. Struggle as he might, he ended up on his back, vision blurring, his companion's name a cracked whisper on his lips. Hand reaching out, fingers shakingly clawing at the cool stone. The unholy cacophony of growls and metal sliding against metal drummed through his brain, threatening to swallow him whole. A roar vibrated through his very being...another monster? He was fading too fast to even know, only one thought screaming in his mind through all the noise.

Creators, please don’t let another friend die.

#Dragon Age Origins #Dragon Age #Alistair Theirin #warden mahariel #fanfic #original character #OC #Hue

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groundzerobakugo · 5 years

Text

not as it seems // k. bakugou

gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

also, i’m kinda getting like, film noir detective kinda vibes??? so imma write half of this as like, journal entries and the other half as actual scenes. i changed a few things around to allow myself better wiggle room, i hope you don’t mind! you may have just broken my writers block w this prompt!

((words or phrases with an asterisk* will have their definitions written at the end))

...

23 february // tokyo

it’s late and the rain’s coming down hard, but i can’t sleep. i’ve been hired by local police because there’s been talk of a strange beast that lurks at night, leaving victims with little to no blood left. civilians are passing it off as animal attacks, but i have reason to suspect this is the work of a vampire. however, i haven’t seen a vampire move like this in a long time. not since nagoya five years ago, back when i was still an apprentice. this vampire doesn’t seem to hunt often, about once every other week, never the same day. they switch it up, too, there’s no link with any victims that i’ve uncovered yet. victim one; twenty-something male. brown eyes. blond hair. a college graduate about to take over for his father’s law firm. described as a likable and easy-going guy engaged to the daughter of another larger firm. no known motive. found in marunouchi. victim two; forty-two female. blue eyes. dark hair. single mother with three kids. worked at a menial convenience store as a clerk. kids have gone into government care and don’t want to talk to visitors. found in tsukiji. victim three; thirty-six year old male. green eyes. dark hair. ex-convict, charged with third-degree murder and vehicular manslaughter. no living relatives. found in shinjuku. victim four; a seventy-eight year old male. dark eyes. dark hair. grandfather with three grandchildren, one from each daughter. described as gentle and a humorous soul. found in roppongi. this case is already giving me a headache. no links aside from each body found in a separate district of tokyo, no pattern found between locations. this vampire may be the smartest i’ve encountered. my only wish is to have my predecessor to help me. i’ve sent word, but with him training another potential hunter, i’m left to solve this case on my own.

(last name, first name).

07 march // tokyo

the vampire has claimed yet another victim. a twenty-two year old female; dark eyes. blond hair. a wannabe fashion blogger in harajuku. her friends said she was finishing up some side work at her job and they called authorities after victim hadn’t posted to social media in two days. i thought i could solve this case without the help of intense magic, but with the way things are progressing, i have to use all necessary skills to save the innocent lives being slaughtered. i hate cases with so much blood, it makes me uneasy. may the gods help me solve this quickly so my eyes don’t have to see another gruesome crime scene photo for another few months. to think something that used to be human could do such actions against something they’d once been. does vampirism isolate the mind so far that you’re okay with cutting up and draining innocent souls? it’s revolting to think about. i will be visiting the past scenes tomorrow, do some magic canvassing, see if i can get a picture of this vampire to track him down. looks like more sleepless nights ahead.

(last name, first name).

you moved quietly down the alley, fingertips brushing against the brick walls as a low blue glow followed your touch. the glow spread throughout the alley, and you stopped just before where the body had been found. you gagged at the dried blood that caked the pavement, but you swallowed and took a deep breath.

“in oculis de mortuus.”*

the scene before you changed as you made contact with the dried substance, a blue glow swirling and changing the scene into a dark alley, lit faintly only by street lights and the waning moon. your stomach flipped as you felt yourself fly through the air. the first victim was thrown down the alley from the sidewalk. you cried out, the world around you turning black. though, he wasn’t dead yet, he still had a faint pulse. you were still in his last moments.

“please, please, it wasn’t what it looked like!” you heard his voice echo, your mouth moving in time.

“that’s what they all say,” a gravelly voice replied. you turned, vision hazy as you saw the tall silhouette of your killer.

“no! i promise i won’t do it again, please, don’t kill me!”

“promises, promises. you humans love to fucking lie through your teeth, calling it promises. tried that shit once, asshole didn’t last a week. now, quit fucking begging, it won’t help.”

you screamed, feeling as through your body had been lit aflame as the vampire’s teeth entered your neck, claws digging deep into your skin.

your legs jellied underneath you, and you collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard as the scenery returned to normal. every inch of your body ached, screamed at you, with every movement. you could feel the slight trickle of blood slip down your lip, and you wiped it away.

as much as you wanted to go home, you couldn’t. there were four other scenes to see, four other victims’ last moments to search through.

you limped your way down the street, body aching and bruises; you were covered in fresh scars, and the bloody nose had yet to stop since the third victim. the sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, the full moon illuminating your path along with the street lights. people no longer ignored you, as the blood soaking your shirt and jeans caused many to stare in horror.

every gentle breeze felt like ice-hot fire burning your skin, and you could feel the few burns on your arms and chest ache under your shirt. you’d never encountered such horrid and painful last moments before you began your hunt for the vampire. most were emotionally calm, having been elders who made their peace, but the few painful ones were small children victims of hit-and-runs or freak accidents.

your neighbor shot you a worried glance, eyes widening at the sight of you.

“(last name), are you alright?” kirishima eijirou asked.

but upon seeing the ruby red eyes, your breath hitched in your throat, and you flinched away from his touch. “sorry, kiri-kun, just... rough day at work.”

his face showed no hurt, and instead he gave you a soft smile. “i know how that is. rest easy, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

“thank you,” you mumbled, returning the smile, though only partially.

he stayed in the hall just long enough to make sure you could get into your apartment, and then he gave you a wave before heading back into his own place. you two shared an odd neighborly relationship, often times only seeing one another in passing. he was some sort of detective for another district’s force, you knew that much, but as you wouldn’t want him knowing your line of work, you never asked specifics of his.

as much as your tired limbs had wanted to just clamber into bed, you pulled up a chair at your desk and flipped open your notebook.

08 march // tokyo

i have never experienced so much pain and regret reliving a victim’s last moments as i have today. i may have overdone it; there are so many physical wounds it feels as though i lived through each one personally. being thrown into an alley, shoved through glass, dropped from a twenty story building, slammed against a wall, twice might i add, and sliced open what feels like a million and one times. i’ll need to recover for a few days before continuing to collect evidence and tracking down the killer. however, the pain wasn’t for nothing. i finally found a recurring pattern. it’s not much to go off of, but every victim was begging for their life and saying they’ll never do it again. what ‘it’ is, i still don’t know. perhaps this is a beast come to take revenge on a group of people who did something. though, two young adults, two middle-aged people, and an elderly person? something doesn’t add up. what would such a strange group beg for their lives for? what did they promise to never do again? in a few days, i’ll interview the ones who had family members, see if they had any contact with any other of the victims. my predecessor has finally replied. he didn’t say much, but he said this case was chosen specifically for me; maybe there’s something in this case i’m missing, but so far it seems unsolvable. i’m missing something, and while i need another, i don’t wish for another victim to give me that needed piece to my puzzle. he sent his regards, as well as the newbie. he seems sweet, but maybe too sweet to get into this line of work. now to make a special brew of restituo and hope i can be up and about before this vampire claims a sixth victim.

(last name, first name).

you closed your journal and looked out the window, into the night. you had about eight days until you calculated your vampire striking once again. eight days to solve this puzzle and save a life.

you walked with a slight limp, a crutch under one arm. five days later, not even your restituo serum could heal all the wounds inflicted. there was always a price with magic; and it looked as though the fates were having you ride out your twisted ankle like a mortal to punish you for peering into so many painful last moments. it was to be expected, but you hated the limited mobility.

it was the thirteenth of march, only a few days left until you suspected the vampire would hunt down another innocent. they knew of one thing in their miserable immortal lives: to hunt down humans and drain them of blood.

at least, that was what your predecessor had told you. that was the first line in the vampirism textbook you read back in middle school, when he’d first taken you under his wing. that was what you remembered when a vampire had claimed your parents’ lives.

you huffed to yourself and leaned up against a brick wall, elevating your foot slightly off the ground.

maybe that was why your predecessor had given you every vampire case that had filtered into the agency. you’d been hunting them since before you graduated high school; taking revenge on the single vampire that had murdered your kindhearted parents for no reason, by killing everyone you came across.

an itch crawled across your skin, and you looked up, making eye contact with hard, crimson eyes. they stared at you from across the street, cars passing in between the collision of crimson and (eye color). you stood straight and adjusted your crutch back under your arm. he stared you up and down, only the faintest of smirks stretching across his face.

a large bus flew down the street, and when it had passed, the man was gone.

your brow furrowed, and you blinked. there was something familiar about that smirk, those crimson eyes. you pulled out your small notebook and jotted down the description of the man.

tall. medium build. red eyes. light hair. wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and black boots. handsome.

you looked back across the street, the itch still there and the healed burns aflame once more. a haunting through crossed your mind, and you thought back to the vampire you’d seen in each final moment.

that man had to be your vampire.

16 march // tokyo

if all of my calculations are correct, that bloodsucker's on the hunt once more. there are several districts i've yet to comb through, but i believe i've tracked its next spot in kanda. i've placed several charms throughout the district to alert me when its on the prowl, but i've got a bad feeling about tonight. i'm going to head down to the station, see if there's been any sightings of the vampire recently, see if i can narrow his location down in the district. if not, i may have to use more magic to track down the son of a bitch, however it may prove daunting. since using the spell to see the final moments of the vampire's victims, i've yet to be able to reach my full capability again. after this is all over, i'll have to recharge myself, take a vacation some place. it's almost dark and i have to get ready. may the fates help me tonight.

(last name, first name).

you strolled around the bustling city streets with your hands in your pockets. there was still a slight limp, but you no longer needed the help of crutches to get around. even without magical help, you still healed faster than the average human mortal--perks of being a witch. though, it still hurt to walk on.

the temperature had dropped considerably since the sun had hidden itself away until the next day; the city lights turning on and illuminating the streets and neon signs coloring the buildings you passed with reds and blues and greens.

if this had been a different night, one where you weren't hunting down a murderous vampire, you might have found yourself enjoying the quiet walk. you'd have brought the small camera gifted to you and taken a few scenery shots. perhaps you'd find a small ramen shop and people-watched from the window, striking up conversation with the owners. but it wasn't that kind of night. you'd have to return another day to do that.

an itch you felt a few days before crawled across your skin once more, and you looked up. it was hard to tell in the dark, but you scanned the crowd for any sign of your suspect; tall, blond, most likely in a hoodie and jeans. but you kept walking, the itch never leaving you as you continued in the same direction.

you moved passed business men and the odd twenty-something year old couples, none shifting their gaze your way, and to those who did, you offered a small smile and continued on with your hunt. you walked by a small ramen shop, one that smelled of fresh pork broth and sizzling chashu. nothing special about it, but there was an itch; one that made your skin feel as though you'd lit yourself aflame.

you stopped and peered into the shop. nothing out of the ordinary stood out to you, you couldn't even see anyone who somewhat resembled your vampire. you stepped into the shop, maybe there was someone you missed.

"irasshaimase!" someone called from the kitchen.

you flashed them a polite smile and scanned the restaurant once again. however, while you hadn't seen the blond you were tracking, you recognized a familiar redhead sat at the bar.

"kiri-kun?" you called out.

the redhead looked up and looked at you. "(name)? i didn't know you came here."

"uh, first time," you said, taking another look around. "actually kind of, well, working right now."

"oh, nice! you on break?" he asked.

"not really," you replied, still checking out the patrons of the shop. "uh, have you by chance seen a blond guy, decently tall, red eyes?"

kirishima hesitated. "uh, n-no? why?"

you turned to him. "veritatum dicere," your hand made contact with his shoulder, and you watched the blue glow travel across his skin. "i'll ask again, have you seen him?"

"bakugou, he-he's grabbing his meal, just out back." you let go of his shoulder and watched as kirishima's face fell. "(n-name), it's not what you think."

you gave him a sympathetic smile. "sorry, kiri-kun, but it's my job. subsisto." and with that, you hurried out the front door and slipped into the alleyway that led to the back of the ramen shop. but just as you hit the back alley, a body crashed into yours.

a girl, no older than fifteen, stared up at you with frightened eyes. there were fresh bruises lining her uncovered shoulders, shirt torn to smithereens and one shoe missing from her feet. your blood ran cold.

"are you alright?" you asked, gripping her by the shoulders to steady her. "who did this to you?"

tears formed at her waterline, and she looked over her shoulder. you followed her gaze into the darkness and nodded.

"go home, get some rest, file a police report in the morning," you said, looking into her eyes. "you'll be okay."

she didn't reply; she only nodded and then left the alleyway, stumbling over her feet as she rushed away from the scene. that vampire would pay for his crimes.

you looked back to the darkness, your jaw set. "fata protegas me." the glow encompassed your body and you stepped further into the alley.

"let go of me!" a man shouted. "it wasn't what it looked like!"

you stopped. that... that didn't sound like your vampire.

"right," a familiar voice scoffed. "i just so fucking happened to come across what looked like a fifty year old pervert fucking raping a fifteen year old girl. now, you can either beg for your life and prolong this shit, or you can keep your shit quiet and die quickly."

what?

"wa-wait! don't kill me! i'll do anything!"

you crept alongside the wall, peaking from the cover of a dumpster.

there he was; your blond vampire in his hooded jacket. he was holding a rather large man against the wall, while said man struggled against his hold. your eyes widened. wait, what...? did... did the vampire save the human girl?

the blond sneered at the man. "it's your kind of people that makes me glad i'm no longer fucking human. you're the scum of this shitty earth."

no, vampires had no humanity. the moment a human's mind changed from mortal to immortal, they lost their moral compass to the fever. it was impossible for a bloodsucker to think like a human. your teachings, your experiences, your cases; you'd never encountered a killer who was able to decipher who was good and who was bad. it was all a gray area, a free for all.

"no! no, please!" the man pleaded. "i-i'll change!"

the blond tsked. "no. you won't. maybe you'll be better in another damn life, but this one's over."

you cringed upon hearing the man's cries and the sound of teeth shredding skin, a faint metallic scent permeating the air. he... that vampire... saved that girl? it couldn't be.

you stood shakily from behind the dumpster, eyes hesitantly turning to face the vampire. his teeth were embedded into the man's neck, claws deep into his chest as he drank greedily. you stepped out of the shadows, head feeling foggy as you saw the blood.

the blond noticed you from the corner of his vision and momentarily stopped.

“i don’t understand,” you muttered. “you had an easy target, hell, two easy targets. and you went for this one?”

he rolled his eyes. “i don’t kill innocents.”

“you don’t... what? but-but you’re a bloodsucker,” you argued. “vampires... vampires don’t have the rationality for that.”

he stepped away from his victim, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe off some of the blood from his chin. “would you rather me a fucking mindless killer? would that make this shit better or something?”

your eyes widened. “no! no, i... i’m just so confused. you-you’re supposed to be the monster, vampires are always the monsters.”

his boots echoed as he walked up to you, the crimson seeming even more vibrant than you remembered. “not this time, dumbass. like i said, i don’t kill innocents.”

you took a step back, nose wrinkling at the stench of human blood coming from his mouth. “but the others? what did they do?”

“they were damn criminals. extortion, robbery, homicide,” the blond said. “now, if you don’t fucking mind, i was kind of in the middle of something.”

you looked at his victim, mind spinning slightly as you remembered the final moments you witnessed, the pain you felt time and time again as you suffered firsthand at the hands of the vampire. every bone in your body felt as though it was breaking once more.

(eye color) met with crimson, glassed over with pain. “i thought you were the worst kind of monster. how you could just end an innocent human life with so much suffering on their part. i was ready to obliterate you the moment i saw you. i thought you were a villain.”

he scoffed. “well, i fucking ain’t. sorry to burst your damn bubble.”

“i--”

“bakugou!” someone shouted. “bakugou! dude, are you okay?!”

you turned on your heel, surprised to see kirishima running up to you two.

“i’m fine, shitty hair,” the blond, bakugou, grumbled.

the redhead slowed in his step as he neared. “i... i thought she was going to kill you, bro.”

you nodded. “i was, but then i realized he wasn’t who i thought.”

bakugou scoffed. “you couldn’t kill me even if you tried. you’re a mortal.”

“i’m a witch, actually,” you replied. “near mortal, but still strong enough to kill you and others like you.”

kirishima’s eyes widened. “that’s why i told you where he was? why i couldn’t move after you left?”

“you fucking what?!” bakugou growled at the redhead.

you placed a hand on bakugou’s shoulder. “caput frigus.” the muscles under your hand relaxed into the blue glow, and bakugou’s glare lessened some. “it wasn’t his fault.”

the blond grumbled a bit. “fine, whatever. now, if you’ll fucking excuse me, i’ve got something to finish up.” he cast another red-eyed glare your way before stomping to the bloody victim.

“he’s not as rough if you get to know him,” kirishima said. “he can be kinda nice, when he wants to be.”

you spared a glance at the vampire, sucking out the last few drops of blood from the victim. “i’m sure. i, uh, i should actually get going. i need to wrap up my case.”

“are you sure? we could give you a ride?”

“that won’t be necessary,” you replied. “but thank you.”

17 march // tokyo

it turns out nothing was as it seemed. the vampire, who i thought was the villain the whole time, the monster, he was actually the savior. all those people he killed were actually criminals. still not too sure what the did, but for some reason i believed him, like i had no reason to distrust his judgement. after all, i saw him save a fifteen year old girl today from being raped. i don’t have much time left in tokyo. all might wants me back home in a few days, which hardly leaves me anytime to explore the city as i wish. but at least i was able to wrap up the case without any innocent lives lost. i’m just thankful i was wrong for once, that a vampire had some decency left in him to target a certain group of people. though, it doesn’t excuse he was still killing human beings, i feel there should be some exception to my code. that being said, i still need to stay sharp out there. knowing so many human beings could be so monstrous to their own kind, it makes me want to change my profession from supernatural work to entering the human justice system. perhaps be like the vampire anti-hero. bakugou. i wonder if i’ll ever see him again while i’m out hunting. maybe someday. after all, he was kinda cute, if i do say so myself. however, until then, i still have a job to do.

(last name, first name).

you looked out the window, the sun just beginning to set once again. after hunting vampires for so many years, your sleeping habits adjusted to their own nightlife hours. you hadn’t seen a rising sun in quite some time.

you stood from your desk and stretched for a moment, hearing your bones crack and pop from the movement. you padded your way into the kitchen and pulled out a noodle cup from the cupboard. it wasn’t much, but you very seldom had the time to create an actual dish.

with the kettle on, you turned towards the living room, oblivious to the crimson eyes watching you from your patio.

bakugou watched as you moved about your tiny apartment; his eyes were calculating, trained on every little movement you made within the space. it wasn’t long until he noticed the small limp to your left leg, or how if you stretched your arm too far your face scrunched up ever so slightly. and he didn’t miss the faint marks on your neck--the same spot he bit into with every victim, the right side, just below the jawline where it gave him perfect access to the jugular vein.

he’d heard of witches and wizards with powerful magic, ones who took on the jobs as supernatural hunters in the modern age; hearts set on keeping humanity safe within its modern times. witches were the clean up crew of the supernatural realm. set to keep humanity blind to all they could never understand.

he’d heard of such powerful magic that witches and wizards could relive the past moments of the dead, though not without sacrifice. he’d witnessed them give their lives just to see the past, unable to come back to their physical selves if the situation was too agonizing. and upon seeing your wounds, bakugou realized you were one of those witches.

hesitant, but only for just a moment, he knocked on the glass door, hiding in the shadows.

your brow furrowed upon hearing the knock. was there someone on your patio? had all might sent for someone to grab you already? was deku there to take you back home?

you peeled back the curtain, jumping when you noticed crimson eyes staring back at you, and you slid open the door.

“what the hell are you doing on my patio, bloodsucker?!” you hissed, mostly from the fear of finding the blond rather than someone from your home.

his eyes narrowed. “oi, i’m the only one giving out fucking nicknames, shitty witch.”

you glared. “i’ll ask again, what are you even doing here?”

“that’s none of your damn business,” he replied.

“so you just thought it would be fun to scare the shit out of me?” you asked. “how kind of you, bakugou.”

he scoffed but was interrupted by the screaming kettle before he could reply.

you hurried back inside and poured the boiling water into the cup, carefully setting the hot kettle back onto the stove. when you turned around, bakugou was glaring at the noodles from the entryway of your patio.

“what? did you want one or something?” you asked, eyeing him eyeing your cup.

he glared. “as fucking if. that shit’s disgusting.”

“it’s all i’ve got,” you shrugged. “i can’t cook, and i don’t have money to go out and buy dinner every night.”

“you can track down shitty vampires day in and day out and learn and memorize advanced spells and shit, but you can’t fucking cook?” the blond asked, skeptical. “fuck it. i’m gonna have to teach you then.”

you laughed. “not too sure how you’re gonna do that in two days.”

he looked at you. “you’re leaving tokyo?”

“well yeah, case solved. i get to go home and begin another one,” you replied. “i travel all over japan to solve supernatural crimes, it’s my job, and while tokyo has some pretty bad ones, my predecessor is who choses them for us.”

“oh.”

you looked over at the blond. “i’ll probably be back someday though, maybe even this year. you could teach me then?”

“as long as you don’t come back to kill me.”

you laughed aloud. “then it’s official then. i come back, you teach me how to cook. deal?”

“fucking deal,” the vampire replied.

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jenovahh · 5 years

Text

KYKM - 12 Months, 20 Days

The buzz about the town is audible, even past the double doors of the workshop as Zenos glares at the two men stand across from him.

“And pray tell, what do you want from us, my lord?” one asks, a slight tremble to their voice.

“My lord?” The other mocks, with a chuckle.

“Not all of us are so used to being rebellious children and defecting from their homeland Garlond. This was a superior to me but a year ago.”

He can’t kill them, he reminds himself once more. As much as he’d like to threaten them, he can’t. That would only make matters worse.

Nero tol Scaeva and Cid nan Garlond stand a casual, but safe distance across from him in their large workshop, one eyeing the door every so often while the other stares him down.

“I came here expecting information, Scaeva.” Though Garlond did not seem to be easily intimidated, as Nero had said he was still a superior in his eyes.

“Pertaining to...?” Cid prompts, clearly seeing his game at pressuring Nero and stopping it.

“What else? The Warrior of Light.” it takes all of his control to keep his voice calm and even, not letting any of his frustration or impatience slip through.

“Is it matter of that you cannot find them?” Nero asks, running a hand through his hair nervously. “The Garlean hunter, unable to find his quarry” he murmurs to himself with a chuckle, making Zenos growl audibly.

“They are obviously hiding some place I cannot find them. And I will not lower myself to speak with savages to ask for their whereabouts.” he continues haughtily, not missing a beat. Cid lets out a loud laugh at that, clutching his sides.

“You mean the remaining Scions won’t tell you where they are. I’m sure you must’ve scared poor Tataru witless.” Cid chuckles, clearly amused. He misses the look of disbelief Nero throws him, at having the audacity to openly ridicule the prince of their former nation.

And sadly, it was true. He had spent days searching for you, unable to find hide or hair of where you had gone. He had searched over every town, every region, every nation and it was as if you had turned into mist. As if you had left the realm altogether.

“How are you to know I did not slaughter her where she stood?” he growls, hand already itching to draw his blade.

“Because I am still alive. And naturally we would have any reports about any happenings with the Scions.” He shrugs, his own glare sliding back into place. “It’ll take more than a mean look to scare me prince. I’ve been by the Warrior’s side fighting gods and Garlean forces alike. Which is why I must now ask; why should I tell you where the Warrior of Light is?” Cid inquires, his stare hard and cold.

Zenos only regards Cid coolly, seeing just how it was so easy for him to abandon his homeland and all he had known. With an iron will like that, it would be easy to turn from all you had ever known. He finds himself building a begrudging respect for him, if only to calm his blood to keep the thoughts of slaughtering him at bay. “They owe me a duel.” he states simply.

“I’m sure there are many who have challenged the Warrior to a duel.” Cid responds in turn, making Zenos clench his teeth at this how stubborn he was being. Perhaps it was a Garlean trait, rather than familial.

“I’m not the only one who cares for the Warrior of Light. Just the one with the least responsibility.”

The dragoon’s words floated through his head, and now it made more sense as to why he could not scare the answer out of them.

Even in the face of what could be certain death, they cared and it was probably more than obvious that something occurred between you two when you ran to wherever you were without him.

“Seven moons ago the Warrior had their Magitek armor repaired.” He begins, watching recognition dawn on Nero’s face. “They had described that it had a problem; a lurch. They had brought it here to have it repaired.”

Recognition and shock now shows on Cid’s face, his jaw agape as he continues. “Scaeva gave the Warrior a list of items that they would need to repair the armor. I chose to remain.”

The two are speechless, processing this new revelation. A shite-eating grin slowly spreads on Nero’s face, while Cid’s mouth still hangs open in disbelief.

“By the emperor...I knew it!” Nero nearly shouts. “That cadence was unmistakable! One unique only to Lord Zenos!” he pauses for a moment as another thought hits him, looking over to Cid. “Then that means...”

“Twelve above...” Cid whispers, his voice torn between anger and awe and...amusement. “You’re in love with the Warrior of Light.”

The accusation hits him like a physical blow, too stunned to immediately retaliate. Baring his teeth, he growls low, nearly ready to throw his consideration for your friends to the wind. “Do not try my patience.” he seethes, reaching for his blade.

Cid starts forward, being held back Nero. “And do not play us for fools, prince. It all makes sense. Why you’ve spared anyone close to the Warrior. Why you had followed them everywhere, why they looked at you with stars in their eyes,”

“Perhaps you should speak in a way our, ahem, friend might understand, Garlond.” Nero murmurs, having not stopped his grinning for a second. “My Lord, if you would allow me, I can explain how Garlond would come to such a...conclusion.” He’s obviously entirely amused by the prospect of the situation, but he’s at least showing him some semblance of respect.

Taking his silence as the go ahead, Nero continues, “You see my Lord, though it might not seem so, we could recognize the signs of something more than just being traveling companions when you two had arrived. It was in the way you two moved around each other. The way how you spoke to the Warrior, the way you looked at them. We meant it when we said the Warrior’s wont was to travel alone, and to hear they had a longtime travelling companion made you special.”

“Speak plainly, Scaeva.” Zenos growls, heart thudding in his chest.

“What I mean my Lord, is that the actions you exhibited around the Warrior of Light are ones of affection. Love.” Nero says hurriedly, quickly averting his eyes.

“Impossible.” Zenos spits, teeth bared.

“Or you do not know what it is to be loved.” Cid finally interjects, his eyes a tad gentler now. “Maybe even, you do not know what you are like in love, to see the signs. How would you know something you’ve yet to experience? What other reason would the Prince of Garleans leave Garlemald, descend upon Eorzea without a care, all to ask where the Warrior of Light is?”

That thought alone silences him, alongside with being unable to feel like he can refute the two men’s words. He could deny it with words, but each time he thought about it his tongue felt like ash, his heart twisted in pain. His memories fluttered through his mind, assaulting him in striking clarity.

Could Garlond be right? He had never wiped anyone else’s tears. Never before had he allowed someone to be held against his person only to enjoy their nearness. Never had he reveled in the joy of training with anyone else. The feeling he had felt blossoming in his chest...could it be love?

Pursing his lips, he looks away from his former countrymen, unsure what to say. He was far too prideful to acknowledge that they were right, but couldn’t deny the truth without it paining him to do so.

“The Warrior of Light is in a place you cannot reach.” Cid speaks up, pulling him from his daze. Nero looks to Cid in confusion, but otherwise says nothing. “The Scions have fallen to a mysterious deathless sleep, and the Warrior of Light has left the realm altogether to find them.”

Pausing to scratch his head, Cid releases a reluctant sigh. “I only tell you this as a favor to the Warrior of Light.” At his continued silence, he sighs once more. “I’m not the best one to assume the Warrior’s feelings, but it’s safe to say that they were seriously hurt by you hiding your identity, now that I have the truth. You owe it to them to make it up to them.”

“As I said earlier, this is your mistake to fix. I’m sure you know that. You know as well as I do that they’re waiting on you. Don’t let them down.”

“It would seem I have to find a way to journey to this realm then.” Zenos rumbles, already pouring over theories and ideas.

“Start at the Crystal Tower. That is the last of my help I will give you.” Cid finishes, staring the prince down.

“Very well.” Moving to leave, he pauses at the door, knowing that a crowd is waiting to see if the two men inside still remain alive. He cannot blame their assumptions, his own reputation proceeding him after all. However, he has much more important matters to take care of than slaughtering two defectors. “I will say you are still mistaken Garlond.” he calls, pulling the door open to a throng of people standing outside.

“I do not love the Warrior. They owe me a duel.”

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writings #kykm

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