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marvelatthetwilight · 3 years

Note

hi again! when you're ready, could you write yet another Jasper fic where the reader is really really short and she kinda feels out of place with the cullens. and maybe she jumbles up her thoughts to keep edward from reading them, and she tries to distance herself from Jasper so he doesn't feel how she feels.

Short Stuff

A/N: Got a bit carried away whilst filling out the story, but I hope you like it @honiebee!

Also, GIF not my own, credit to the owner.

Also also, I am on a roll!

You spotted him immediately, as soon as you came into the cafeteria, following Eric and Angela as they tried to give you a tour of the school.

“This is the cafeteria.” Eric waves his arm around the room with a flourish, and your eyes follow his gesture till you stop, drawn to the table at the far end.

His amber eyes pierced through your own, locked on each other until you walked into Tyler Crowley and landed on the floor.

“Sorry short stuff, didn’t see you there.” Tyler muttered as he offered you a hand to help you up. This was your life. Constantly going unnoticed and unseen because of your height. Your mind jumps back to the amber eyes from across the room, and once you’ve righted yourself and reassured Tyler that you’re fine, you look back to the table to find him gone. Somehow, you felt seen.

You didn’t see him for a few days after that. Your new friends told you that the Cullens did that a lot when the weather was nice. You found out what you could about them without people being suspicious, it helped that you were new, people seemed keen to get to know the “new girl”, and once you had found out enough, you retreated back into yourself and your life returned to usual. Unnoticed and unseen as your friends chatted amongst each other.

Until Jasper returned.

Standing at your locker humming to yourself, you grab your textbooks for your first couple of classes. You jump in shock when you close your locker to find Jasper standing next to you.

“Sorry little darlin’, I didn’t mean to make you jump.” He says softly, his accent taking you by surprise.

“I wanted to introduce myself...welcome you to the school.” He continues hesitantly, his eyes narrowing as he watches your expression. “I’m Jasper...Jasper Hale.” He holds out an open hand to you, which you go to shake, assuming that’s what he means, squeaking in shock as his cold hand pulls yours to his mouth where he presses a soft kiss to your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“Y/N.” You reply quietly, looking up at him in wonder as he lets go of your hand.

“Bad circulation.” He explains, watching you touch the spot where he held your hand, the cold lingering on your skin. You look up at him again, your eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well...I better be off to class. See you around Y/N.” He shoots you a quick wave and a wink as he heads down the corridor, leaving you standing in shock at the bizarre interaction.

A month later, your friendship was progressing nicely. You still sit with your friends at lunch, understanding from Jessica that no one other than the Cullens has ever sat at their table. So when Jasper is waiting for you at your locker that morning to ask you a question, you aren’t quite prepared to answer.

“Howdy darlin’, how are you on this beautiful day?” He asks as he moves to the side to let you open your locker.

You raise an eyebrow at him, glancing out the window at the rain hammering down on the parking lot outside.

“I’m fine thank you...although I’m not sure I agree with you about the weather.”

He laughs quickly before his face changes. “I have a question for you.”

You hum in reply as you gather up your books.

“I want to know if you will join me for lunch.”

You drop your books as you attempt to put them in your bag, spluttering as you try to think of a reply.

“Erm...uh...erm...with your family?”

“Yeah...so I’ll see you later darlin’?” He asks, turning away down the corridor to English when you nod ‘yes’ in reply.

After that lunch you joined them for lunch at their table every day. You noticed that they didn’t eat much, so you started bringing less food to school with you so you didn’t look like you didn’t belong. You wanted to belong. Sitting with Jasper was the only time you didn’t feel unnoticed. He watched you carefully whenever you spoke, taking in every word like you were something or someone to be admired. He understood you, understood how you felt somehow, and you had never felt more seen in your life.

When the time came for Jasper to tell you the truth, to explain to you fully who he was, what he was, and what you truly meant to each other, you understood. Everything made sense. The comfort you found in his company, how he understood all along how you felt. But you still felt out of place when it came to his family.

“Will you come to the house for dinner?” Jasper asked as you held hands across the cafeteria table, his thumb stroking along your knuckles. You froze. You knew that your mind would be filled with anxious thoughts and that both Jasper and Edward would realise how you felt. “Carlisle and Esme are both desperate to meet you.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Of course!” You reply cheerily, quickly trying to think of something different. Stopping your mind from anxiously thinking of how you weren’t worth it, that Esme and Carlisle, who you had heard so much about, would hate you. Think that you weren’t good enough to be with Jasper. Why wouldn’t they? It’s a thought you’d had time and time again since meeting Jasper. Why would he want to be friends with you? Why would he want to love you?

“I can’t wait to meet them!” You plaster a fake smile to your face, filling your mind with happy smiling faces, puppies, kittens, people in love.

Edward looks over at you and frowns as he tries to understand your mind. Jasper squeezes your hand, to soothe your anxiety. You had to change the topic, change the conversation to something else.

“Did you hear about a new girl starting?” You ask the table. “I hear she’s the sheriff’s daughter.”

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#jasper cullen #jasper hale #twilight x reader #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

SWAT Guy (Part 3)

(Gif @a-profoundbond)

Summary: Dean gets pulled out into a call and needs Sam for backup when some of his usual guys are out. But something isn’t right about the whole situation and is about to cause a world of trouble for everyone involved...

Masterlist

Pairing: SWAT officer!Dean x reader

Square: Dean Smith

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, kidnapping, minor violence

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Sam is the reader’s brother. This was written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!…

_______

“Hi Sammy,” you said. He popped his head up from his desk and smiled. “I’m fine. Dean’s truck is in the shop so I’m picking him up today is all.”

“Lucky you. You get to deal with that hot mess on the way home,” said Sam, waiving his hand across the way. You turned and saw Dean in a suit, reading over a file at his desk.

“Uh, what is he wearing?”

“He was deposed today,” said Sam. You turned back and cocked your head. “It’s like giving a witness statement kinda. We don’t always have time to go to the court house and not every case requires it.”

“He didn’t mention it.”

“I think he forgot. That’s my suit he’s wearing,” said Sam. You looked him over and noticed he was in his workout clothes, a smile crossing your face. “Shut it.”

“You guys are becoming friends,” you grinned.

“He’s a cocky asshole,” said Sam, flipping through some papers. “But he makes you happy.”

“Are his pants rolled up?” you asked with a smirk, catching site of the cuff at the bottom over his work boots.

“Oh trust me. We’ve been ragging on him all day long,” said Sam. “Staying over Dean’s again tonight?”

“Probably,” you said as you started to leave.

“Y/N. Don’t you think you guys are going a little fast?” he asked.

“Sam. He’s been my boyfriend for nearly two months and I’m a big girl,” you said. He held up his hands and your walked around his desk, giving him a hug. “This isn’t another Lou incident.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again is all.”

“Dean’s different than Lou. Even you can know that.”

“You still fell for Lou.”

“I was in love with the idea of being in love. I didn’t love Lou.”

“Do you think you might love Dean?”

“I could see myself doing that down the road,” you said. “I gotta take Mr. Grumples home so he can get ready to have dinner at our place-”

“No,” groaned Sam, his head thrown back. “I just spent nearly nine hours with the guy.”

“He’s been over there all day and Dean’s downstairs is torn apart from the electrician right now. Come on. He hangs out for one night? Pretty please big brother?” you asked. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sucker.”

“You’re cooking,” he said. You hummed and headed across the way to Dean’s office, rattling on the doorway.

“Howdy handsome,” you said. He lifted his head up and grinned. “Look at your cute little suit.”

“I hate it,” he said. “God, stick me in my SWAT uniform any day over this shit.”

“You do look nice, even if the suit doesn’t quite fit,” you said, one of the guys from his SWAT team poking his head in the door. “Hi-”

“We got a hostage situation downtown,” said Henry, Dean jumping out of his seat. “Hey Y/N. Gotta run.”

“Y/N, I’ll see you at my place tonight, okay?” said Dean, ducking out of his office. “It’s gonna be a few hours probably.”

“Okay,” you said, walking forward and grabbing his hand.

“Y/N, I gotta go get suited up,” he said.

“I know,” you said, leaning up and kissing him. “Be safe.”

“Always am,” he said, someone else from his team he recognized jogging down the hall.

“Dean! Hold up!” he called as Dean started to leave. “Micky’s out sick today.”

“Shit. Steve’s on vacation too,” said Dean. “Who’s on the roster?”

“Gary but I know he and his wife are driving up to the lake this weekend. He took a half day. He’s an hour out,” he said. Dean scanned his eyes and looked around the room, biting his bottom lip. “Weston!”

“What?” shouted Sam from his office.

“Dress. Now. Hughie, get him suited up. I want him on strictly surveillance. It’s all he’s cleared for,” said Dean as Sam jogged out of his office. “I said now Weston!”

“Dean,” you said as he started heading down the hall.

“I’ll keep him safe. I promise. I’ll talk to you later sweetheart.”

Four Hours Later

“Oh my God,” you said as Sam walked into the house, still in his SWAT gear. “What is going on? A cop showed up an hour ago and said I couldn’t leave. He’s been parked out front all-”

“Y/N,” said Sam, showing in another man you recognized from their work. “This is Officer Todd. He’s Dean’s supervisor and he’s responsible for the SWAT organization in our department. He needs to ask you some questions.”

“Where’s Dean?” you asked. Officer Todd stared at you and took a deep breath. “Where’s Dean?”

“I need to-”

“Is he dead?” you asked with a thick swallow.

“We don’t believe so,” said the officer.

“How the fuck don’t you know the answer? Either he is or-”

“An erroneous situation happened and we will all yell and place blame at another time. But if you want to help Dean, I need you to answer anything I ask of you and I mean anything,” he said.

“What happened to Dean? Where is he? Is he stuck on your call you-”

“Y/N, we don’t know where he is,” said Sam. You stuck out your neck and Sam shut his eyes. “It was a trap and we fell for it.”

“It was a hostage situation. You-”

“It was a mistake. We believe Dean was the real target. We’re unable to locate him. Now I need you to answer my questions. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find Dean, alright?” asked Officer Todd. You nodded and sat down on the couch, the officer pulling out a notepad.

“Hey,” said the cop that’d been parked in the driveway, Sam and officer Todd long gone. You lifted your head up from the couch where you watched late night TV, the cop giving you a smile. “Can I use your bathroom quick?”

“Around the corner to the left. First door on the right,” you said. He waved and stepped inside, ducking around as you let out a sigh. You tugged your blanket up over yourself, bolting upright when you heard a thud. “Officer Hendricks? You okay?”

You got up and looked around the corner, two men in masks standing there. You turned and bolted for the front door, a foot tripping you along the way, smacking you straight into the ground. You rolled and stared up at them, one of them squatting down close to you.

“We need you to get something for us,” he said. “It’s at the police station. If you get it for us, you can have back your boyfriend.”

“Look at this,” said the other guy, taking a picture off the wall. “She’s with a cop.”

“That ain’t Smith,” said the first guy, looking around the room and spotting a picture of you and Sam from when you were kids. “It’s her brother.”

“He could get it and we bring her with us.” They stared down at you where you’d backed up next to the end table. “It might keep Smith more complacent. We’re gonna need that password eventually and she’ll get us that password.”

You reached into the basket and pulled out the gun hidden there, both men more in awe than anything else.

“No I don’t think you two understand how this works,” you said, standing up. “You tell me where Dean is and maybe I don’t shoot your dicks off if I like the answer.”

“She wouldn’t-” You pulled the trigger and shot the shorter one in the thigh, the other guy jumping.

“That was a warning shot. Now where’s Dean?”

Three Hours Later

You spun around in the office chair you’d been sat in for over an hour, slumped down and checking out of the door every few minutes.

“Hey,” said Sam, suddenly in the doorway. You turned and he was smiling, looking to his right. “Got somebody who says they owe you one.”

Dean smirked as he stepped into view, a black eye and scuffed up cheek but he looked relatively okay. You got up and gave him a hug, Dean laughing to himself.

“So you can cook and have that level of marksmanship? You’re the full package, aren’t ya,” said Dean, squeezing you tight.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“He’s fine. A few scrapes. Bigger issue is what these guys wanted,” said Sam.

“I’ve got the security code to our SWAT arsenal. It’s located near the back so it’s pretty easy to get in and out if you have the code,” he said.

“So it wasn’t you they wanted?”

“Just the info I had. The electrician at my house the past few days wasn’t a real one. They were snooping through my crap, trying to find it written down somewhere.”

“There’s a lot of stuff in that room that we don’t want on the street,” said Sam. “This is my case now. Something bigger is going on we don’t know about yet.”

“It’s highly unlikely they’d try that method of getting access again,” said Dean, glancing to Sam. “But Sam and I think it might be a good idea if I stayed with you guys for a while, until this settles down.”

“So you’re the one that gets kidnapped and I stop a kidnapping and save you yet I’m the one that needs protection,” you said.

“God no. I want you watching my back,” said Dean. “I’m the wimp around here.”

You smiled and he gave you a kiss, wincing a little as you noticed the split lip.

“If that’s okay with you that is.”

“Yeah,” you said, Sam ducking past you into his office. “Hey. When were you gonna tell me you signed up for the backup squad?”

“I thought it might help me look at things from a different perspective,” said Sam.

“You just wanted to wear the pants. They do make your ass look great I gotta say, Sammy,” teased Dean.

“Can you go get kidnapped again or something?” said Sam, stretching in his seat. “I gotta write up my report. Take him home Y/N. They’re leaving a few officers just in case.”

“I can do that,” you said. “Don’t stay too late, Sam.”

“I won’t,” said Sam, Dean leaving your side to head into his office.

“Y/N,” said Sam quietly. “Keep an eye on him. It might be a rough night for him.”

“He told you.”

“That he’s got PTSD? Yeah when we debriefed him he told me,” said Sam. “So keep an eye on him.”

“You tell him you do too?” you asked.

“No. Someday,” he said as Dean came back with his backpack. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Later Sammy,” said Dean with a wave.

“I’m regretting this already.”

“Ouch,” hissed Dean as you put a new bandage on his writs at home. “That hurts.”

“You’re supposed to change them every few hours and your other ones were all bloody. This cream is supposed to help you not scar,” you said, undoing his other wrist. He pouted as you removed the roll, his right wrist as torn up and scabbed as the left was. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand and he yanked it to his chest. You held up your hands and he offered it back slowly. “It’s alright.”

You tried to be more gentle as you put on the cream, carefully wrapping up the wrist again. Dean put his hands in his lap while you put the rest of the first aid stuff in your bathroom. You found him still sat on top of your bed when you returned, Dean picking at the bandage on his ankle.

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” you asked.

“I’m sorry I put you in danger.” He kept his head down and you sat beside him, tucking your knees into your chest.

“You didn’t put me in danger. Bad people did. If it wasn’t you it would have been your supervisor or someone else that knew that code. They thought you were the easiest to get to was all. Now is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Hold onto me tonight?” he asked.

“That I can do.” You wrapped your arms around him and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. But I will. I’ll tell you about the other stuff someday too.”

“Okay,” you said. “It’s pretty late. How about I get you some of Sam’s clothes to sleep in?”

“That big hoodie over there looks pretty nice,” he said, nodding to the one draped over your chair. You slid away and got up, helping him into it, tugging it down.

“Looks good on you,” you said. You turned on your corner light and hit off the main switch, pulling back the covers for both of you to get under.

“Y/N?” You hummed as you tugged the blankets up and wrapped your arms around him. “Be careful. Sam was right. Whoever wanted those weapons is still out there. They want to do something bad.”

“I will be. Seems like a lot of trouble to go through to steal some guns.”

“It’s not just guns in there. Maybe you got a point. Maybe they want something else in there,” said Dean.

“We’ll bring it up tomorrow. Tonight let’s try to relax okay?”

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Thanks sweetheart.”

“Tomorrow’ll be better Dean, I promise.”

_________

A/N: Read the final part coming soon!

#tell me a story bingo #spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean x #dean x you

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woman-with-no-name · 3 years

Text

Dutch van der Linde x Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Title: "Angels"

A/N: What can I say, I was bored. I'm not a writer or a native English speaker, but I decided to do this for fun so don't judge me too hard. ✌️Hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: A bit of fluff, but mostly smut.

Summary: Dutch and you are together, but you can't stop thinking about the nature of his relationship with Arthur, so you decide to ask him.

Story under the cut.

"Dutch?"

"Yes? Darling." He looks up from his book nonchalantly.

"Were you and Arthur..." you pause, and turn your head to look behind the chair you were sitting on, as if there was anyone else in your tent except you two. A silly habit you had.

"Were we what?" Your hesitation made Dutch close his book and put it beside him. You smile awkwardly.

"You know...a thing? Back then? Before... when you were y- " you stop yourself before you start that argument again.

He eyes you, clearly amused by your question, and lets out a little laugh.

"And what makes you ask that?" He leans forward, crosses his arms and waits for a response. He wasn't wearing his hat so you could clearly see the suspicious look in his eyes.

You start squirming in your chair, your palms are getting sweaty.

"Oh, nevermind." Your nerve was gone, you weren't sure anymore if you want to start this topic.

"I don't know why I asked that. Sorry, love." You quickly take a nearby book in your hands and open it on a random page. You realize how this is the most idiotic thing you could have done. But it's too late. Dutch knew what you were and weren't reading, since you never did it by yourself. He was always there. Not that you mind it. You loved when he would read out loud, and you would be laying across the cot, with you head in his lap, and his free hand would be in your hair, stroking it. If you fell asleep he would either let you, or make a tiny clinging noise with his rings right next to your ear. The noise would immediately wake you up and he would always pretend he didn't do it on purpose. However, his clenching jaw and smiling lips would tell otherwise.

You could feel his eyes on your face, but you didn't dare look at him. Thinking you made him upset you hoped he would just forget about it. Trying to think of something to distract yourself, you turn the next page of the book.

You hear the cot squeak under him as he relaxes back. You lift your gaze and see him looking up at the plain canvas of your tent, as if thinking of a fond memory.

"Alright, my darling. Since it's you, I suppose I can tell you..."

Your gaze is immediately on him. You excitedly slap the book back on the shelve, lean forward on the chair, your elbows on your knees, as if Dutch was just about to tell you a juicy gossip about someone from camp, and not a confession about a past lover.

Seeing your reaction Dutch couldn't help himself but to let out a throaty laugh.

"But." He raises a finger at you, eyeing you. "First you have to tell me what made you ask that."

"Fine." You feigned offense and playfully roll your eyes at him.

"Its just...I know you two go way back and...well, you are both so... well, alluring. I just couldn't help myself not to think about...you two...you know." You make a weird slapping gesture with your hands.

Dutch closes his eyes and exhales a laugh. He brings his hand up to his brow and rubs his eyes. You loved to make him laugh with your silliness.

He clears his throat and continues: "You think Arthur is... alluring?" He drawls the last word to highlight it. Then leans, and spreads his legs to get closer. His elbows are on his knees, mimicking your pose. He watches your expression. Your faces are now just inches apart.

Fuck. You are trapped. How are you supposed to say yes without it sounding wrong?

"I mean, I suppose so... But he's, you know, not... Uhh, you know...bad. Khm." You look away. Not knowing what to expect. You can feel his eyes on your temple.

The tent flaps are open, and of course, who else is supposed to walk by other than the man himself. You curse under your breath. Can this get any worse?

"Howdy folks, how's it going?" Arthur greets you both.

Dutch knows what he is doing to you. He lets you sweat under his gaze for a few moments more. Arthur walking by only made it better for him. Bastard.

"Arthur! Hello. Come, sit down, son. We were just talking about you." Dutch exclaims cheerfully.

Arthur stops at the entrance, wooden floor boards squeak under his boots.

"Me? Why are you two wasting your time talking about me?" Arthur hesitates but takes off his hat, and enters the tent. Dutch moves a bit on the cot to give Arthur room to sit down, but not nearly enough. The space is way too small for both of them. Forbidden thoughts enter your mind again. But you quickly shoo them away.

Their knees are touching on the small cot and Arthur is holding his hat in his lap. Dutch wastes no time and places his hand on Arthur's knee. Arthur just glances at it but quickly relaxes to the familiar touch.

"My sweet lady was just telling me how alluring you are." Dutch turns his attention to Arthur.

Arthur glances at you, blushing and fighting the smile that's creeping on his face.

"But I know that already. I know that well..." Dutch continues and raises his palm to Arthur face.

"Ain't that right, my boy?"

"Dutch..." You notice Arthur grip his hat harder.

Dutch being this intimate to him didn't start jealousy in you, only awe. You couldn't help yourself but smile at how you weren't the one that's nervous anymore.

Dutch slowly moves his hand on the younger man's neck. Then behind it, and finally entwines his fingers in Arthur's hazel locks. His eyes grow darker as he grips the hair harder and brings Arthur closer to him.

Arthur hisses through his teeth but does nothing. His body goes slack. His eyes are half closed as he gives in. Dutch presses his nose on the stubbly cheek and then angles his head. Their lips are less than an inch apart, breaths mixing. Arthur closes his eyes completly, his breath uneven. Dutch laughs at this, he playfully pokes his nose with his own, and then pulls away completely. He lets his hand liger on Arthur's shoulder as he relishes in the other man's flustered expression.

"We will see you tonight, Arthur." Dutch removes his hand, and turns his attention to you. "Won't we, darling?"

You pick up your jaw from the floor and nod.

"What do you say, son?"

Arthur blinks, and exhales loudly.

"Yeah. I mean, yes. Da-... Yes. Dutch." He quickly shifts away from Dutch and coughs awkwardly. He then looks at you, embarrassed.

You melt under his soft blue eyes. "See you later, Mister Morgan..." You wink at him and lower your eyes at the hat he didn't put back on his head as he stood up to make his exit.

"Good boy." Dutch follows him to the edge of the tent and slaps his behind on the way out. Arthur shoots him an angry look but his smirk betrays him.

Dutch leans on the tent post and pulls a cigar out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth and looks back at you.

"So, my sweet, any more questions?"

...

Evening came faster than you thought. You were pacing up and down the tent, while Dutch was kneeling at the small stove, tending to the fire.

"Nervous?" He watches your steps.

"A little bit, yes." You stop and turn to stand right next to him. "But...very excited too." You say as you caress his cheek with the back of your hand, and lean down for a kiss. You feel him smile and you pull away.

"Oh, is daddy excited too?" You never failed to rile him up with that word. He stands up and casually kicks the stove door closed. He wraps his arms around your waist and watches you through hooded eyes. You lean into the warm palm he brought up to your face, and you kiss each other tenderly.

"Khm... I hope I ain't interrupting something..." you hear behind you.

Arthur enters and ties up the tent flaps behind him. Dutch let's you go and places a small kiss on your forehead as he strides towards his former lover. They look at each other for a moment, unsure how to act. Dutch breaks the ice as he firmly rubs Arthur's shoulder. The younger man just laughs at this, and grabs him by his vest, pulling him into a tight hug. You giggle at how your lover was caught off guard. Something you rarely see.

" I missed this. You."

" I know, son. I did too."

They hold each other like this, long, until Dutch lifts Arthur's head from the crook of his neck to leave a soft kiss on his bottom lip. He catches it between his own and nibbles on it lightly. You hear a satisfied hum coming from Arthur, and it turns you on instantly.

"You two are beautiful like this, I hope you know that."

Arthur breaks the kiss and looks at you, shyly. His reaction makes you think about how you've never seen him act so "small". You two talked, but it was always about something random, and he would often keep his distance. But Dutch would tell you stories about him too, how capable he was, how many fights he won, and just how brave "his" Arthur was. Seeing him like this you also saw what Dutch loved about him, he loved reminding him of just how special he is to him.

Dutch reaches for you and you take his hand. He leads you between them and Arthur accompanies you in front of him. You reach behind and bring his face next to yours. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your middle, and you lean into him. Dutch steps back a bit to get a good look at you both.

"Well, well. What did a man like me do, to deserve you two gorgeous angels..."

Arthur lets out a little laugh. "I ain't no gorgeous angel Dutch."

You slap Arthur lightly before Dutch even opens his mouth to answer.

"You deserved that." Dutch laughs and looks down, hands on his hips. He raises his head with a sinister look in his eyes, a look you knew well.

"That means I must be close to God, right?" His eyes looked almost completely black now.

"And what do good angels do in front of their God?" He caresses both of your faces. His thumb slips into your mouth as he pulls Arthur into a sloppy kiss, inches away from your face. You suck on his thumb, letting it slip pass your teeth and he pumps it in and out lightly. They kiss eachother hungrily, biting. Licking his lips and panting Dutch pulls away.

"They kneel, don't they?" He purrs.

Arthur and you get on your knees, a little bit too fast to conserve any dignity.

Dutch pulls out a cigar out of his front pocket and lights it.

"Might as well enjoy this to the fullest." He says smugly in that delicious dark tone you adored.

You trail your fingers up his thighs and reach for the gun belt that was still sitting on his hips. You unbuckle it and Arthur grabs it to throw it on the cot and proceeds to cup Dutch's cock through his pants. Arthur smiles as he hears a sigh from above. He goes to unbutton the fabric between you and your prize but Dutch stops him.

"Use your teeth would ya? Like you used to..." He teases, and you rise an eyebrow at Arthur.

"Go ahead, Mr. Morgan. Teach me something new."

Arthur complies and skillfully pulls on the edge of Dutch's pants and the top button gets loose. He bites down on the fly and looks up as he slowly pulls it down. A hand comes down to drag a ringed finger over his cheek.

You free his semi hard manhood and pump it a few times.

"Kiss me..." Arthur whispers, and leans in, to catch your lips in a slow but passionate kiss.

You feel Dutch instantly getting harder as he groans at the sight.

You pull away to lick a long, wet stripe up the shaft and then kiss Arthur again. You both work your way down his length, kissing and licking his cock from both sides. This makes Dutch's chest puff up as he savors the feeling of two tongues leading him to fulfilment. Arthur takes him in his mouth and you place your focus on his balls. Dutch takes the cigar from his mouth and his breathing quickens. Holding the cigar between his fingers he carefully places his hands on both of your heads, rubbing caringly.

"Oh, my angels..."

You start to lick your way up his Apollo's belt, you knew he liked the way your ticklish, warm kisses added to the sensation Arthur was giving him.

A slight whimper hits your ear and you knew he was close. Dutch rarely moaned during your times together, and when he didn't try to conceal it with a strained cough it was an absolutely irresistible sound to come out of him. It never failed to make you proud of yourself.

Arthur looked absolutely delicious with his ocean eyes filled with lust as he pulled away from Dutch to catch his breath. He cupped your chin to give you a sloppy kiss and then you both presented your open mouths and tongues to the man above.

Dutch panted and his brows furrowed as he used his hand to jack himself off, and paint both of your faces with his spent.

You twirl your tongue around your lips to collect as much as possible in your mouth to swallow it. Arthur and you smile at each other playfully. He uses his finger to collect a drop from your chin.

"Missed a spot."

You could barely open one of your eyes.

"You think?" You laugh.

"You two are unbelievable..." Dutch shakes his head, smiling.

He puts the cigar back into his mouth and tucks himself in. He lazily walks back and sits on the chair. Arthur helps you get up and holds you close.

Dutch eyes the cot as the smoke collects around his head.

"I think it's time for you two to give daddy a show..."

...

77 notes · View notes

draconica · 3 years

Note

Oooo, for the writing prompt, a little 7+4+1? Or just one, I might be a little greedy 😖🤣

7: Engagement sex 4: Petnames 1: Spicing things up in the bedroom

I made it work, anon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I also headcanon Ellis can be a powerbottom so enjoy that

When Ellis returned home from the shop one warm evening, he was humming softly to himself. There was a sly smile to his features as he gently jostled the plastic bag he had brought home. There was no groceries or anything that mundane inside. No, there was something very special inside of this particular carrier.

“Niiick?” he crooned in the hope that his boyfriend was home, and in the mood. Now, he was home, but as Ellis turned the corner into the living room he was met with a sight he wasn't quite expecting to see.

Nick was stood in a black suit - a proper, swanky, three-piece number – and holding a red rose. A soft song was playing on their stereo system, and the lights were turned down low. He had definitely been stood here for some time, waiting for Ellis to return home, and Ellis dropped his smile briefly. The gambler was smooth as silk at the best of times, but this was unexpected.

“Welcome home, sweet peach,” Nick led with, making Ellis blush – that damn pet name of his. “You good?”

Ellis scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I'm jus' fine,” he smiled, setting down his bag for now, and gesturing to Nick as he took a step towards him. “What's this for?”

In a second, Nick's smile slipped a little, arching his brow. “...You forgot, didn't you?” He rolled his eyes, but that smile soon came right back as he stepped forward also, closing the gap between them and offering him the rose. “July 12th? The day we got out of quarantine?” Nick chuckled, leaning in closer and making it more personal. “The day we moved in together, made the new place official?”

A million thoughts swarmed Ellis's head at that point, taking the rose and knowing he was absolutely overcome with blushes. “O-oh… damn, I guess I did forget,” he giggled, tilting his head a little as his boyfriend leered closer. Even now, Nick was still the most damn attractive man he'd ever met, let alone dated. “M'sorry, darlin', just had a lot on my mind, I guess?” he shrugged.

Nick seemed to understand, nodding once before pulling Ellis in for a kiss. “It's all good, sport. You can make it up to me later. But for now...” he turned and clicked a remote in love control, turning down the music a touch, before his hand returned to where it belonged – holding his lover's.

“Ellis,” he began, looking down at his thumb caressing the back of El's hand. “It's been a hell of a ride to get here, huh? Fighting for our lives every day in the apocalypse, a year of quarantine, and now three years of living together. Before the Green Flu, I was at my lowest point. I… well, wouldn't be alive if I hadn't met you. The zombies were a distraction, but you were a reason to live. You mean the Goddamn world to me, Fireball, and I want to spend every day by your side. So… I have one question for you.” Ellis watched on, mouth dropping, as his boyfriend got down on one knee and produced a velvet box containing a thick silver ring. In the center, there was set a dark blue gemstone. “Ellis, mi tesoro, will you marry me?”

Needless to say, Ellis had not been expecting this today, and that was obvious given the absolute astonishment on his face at that moment. It almost made Nick want to laugh, but he was slightly too nervous for that.

Thankfully, Ellis broke into his lop-sided, brilliant Southern smile. “You sly sumbitch,” he chuckled. “Hell yeah, I'll marry ya!”

The gambler got to his feet, immediately bringing his lover closer into his arms with an unbreakable smile. The ring was a perfect fit onto Ellis's fourth finger, something else that Nick had been worried about, but seeing how snugly it sat made the older man's heart swell. “I love you, Overalls.”

“Love you, too, darlin',” Ellis responded as he brought Nick's face in for a kiss... and then another... and then his arms were around Nick's neck. Any distance between them was suddenly gone.

It wasn't unusual for their kisses to get out of hand, certainly in their earlier days where it seemed like sex was on the table every day (not literally, except for a few times Ellis can remember where they'd gotten adventurous…). That's when Ellis remembered what was in the bag he had brought home. Well, now he had no choice but to surprise his lover with its contents.

By now, Nick's kisses had moved to the mechanic's neck, and Ellis couldn't suppress a shiver as he found his favorite spot just below his ear. Many a hickey had been placed there before, and it was near-enough a certainty that he'd be getting a new one tonight.

“Nick,” he whispered, shifting his hand through the hustler's hair and smiling when he caught sight of the shiny new engagement ring on his finger. “Take me to the bedroom.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nick chuckled before tightening his grip around Ellis's waist and hoisting him up, causing the younger man to gasp against his lips. “You don't have to tell me twice.”

Of course, Nick couldn't possibly carry Ellis up a whole staircase and into said bedroom. He wasn't a young man anymore, after all. Not that Ellis minded – it actually gave him a chance to grab the bag he'd brought home. Nick gave him an odd look as he did so, but his young fiancé had simply smiled, told him not to worry about it with a pat to the cheek.

Once they both stepped into the bedroom together, Ellis set the bag down once more and brought Nick into more kisses, having missed them in the thirty seconds they had stopped.

“How long were ya plannin' that for?” asked Ellis curiously as he slipped the black tie from Nick's neck, smiling at him.

Nick shrugged a little. “Few months,” he admitted. “Knew I wanted to marry you someday, seemed like the anniversary of getting out of that Goddamn pandemic was a good time.”

Ellis was now working on those pesky shirt buttons, granting him access to that chest hair he loved so much on Nick. “Romantic as usual,” he mused. “Gotta be honest… I was plannin' a lil' somethin' for us tonight, too. Nothin' big like askin' ya to marry me, so kinda puts my gesture in the shade.”

“Don't be modest, sweet peach,” Nick chuckled, allowing Ellis to remove his suit jacket and leave it on the floor – something he usually gets very picky about.

“Well...” Ellis slipped Nick's belt from his pants, and was pleased at the choice his lover had made – a black leather strap. Yes, this'll do nicely. “I know you like bein' in control 'n all, but I wanna show ya how we ride in the South.”

That piqued the gambler's interest, not in the least because Ellis was looping the belt around his hand, pulling it taught for Nick to see, and something about the sight was enough to set his erection at full mast.

“Ace...” he paused, needing to wet his lips when he found his mouth suddenly dry. “Do I get a say in this?”

“You certainly get to pick the safe word,” mused the mechanic, shifting his weight slightly on his hips as he played with the leather strap some more.

Nick must've been mad, or at least deeply in love, as he decided to shift control over to his little fiancé for the night. “All right,” he conceded, stepping out of his pants which, with lack of support, had pooled onto the floor. “Where do you want me, sugar?”

The mechanic's grin spread further up his cheeks. He led Nick over to their king-sized bed and sat him down. “Now, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable, mister gamblin' man, and I'll go slip outta these here greasy clothes.” With a little canter to his steps, he grabbed the bag once more and headed to their en-suite bathroom, shooting a look over his shoulder. “Recommend losing those there briefs, too. Won't be needin' them at the rodeo.” And with that, he disappeared into the next room, door shutting slowly behind him.

Nick had always been good at following instructions, and Ellis's were about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. So, as he stripped himself down completely and got comfortable, he took the time while Ellis was gone to think about some of the more memorable trysts in their relationship.

There was the very first time which had been during the apocalypse. It had been rough and hurried, considering they had just escaped death by the skin of their teeth, and it was more a carnal desire of the most basic of human instincts. Ellis had almost alerted a horde with how loud he'd been.

There was another time, during quarantine, where love had for the first time been entered into the equation. Namely, the first time they had said 'I love you' to each other. Nick had topped then, too. And he wasn't a picky partner by any means – after all, Ellis was young and full of testosterone, and sometimes he needed to fuck just as much as anyone else. Nick had come to enjoy bottoming, absolutely, but he was more or less the one in charge on most nights. Ellis never complained; quite the opposite, in fact. Nick was still lost in thought when suddenly the bathroom door opened at last, revealing Ellis in his attire for the evening: Nothing but a cowboy hat (and one engagement ring).

“Howdy,” he drawled as he leant against the door frame, still playing with Nick's belt in his hands. “Heard there was a no-good city slicker that I needed to take good care of. Assumin' that's you, handsome?”

Nick couldn't' help but smirk up at him, raising an eyebrow. Ellis was unbelievably adorable, especially whenever he was making effort to please him. That included… this. “Goddamn it, Ace,” he shook his head. “Didn't think this was how my night was gonna go.”

Ellis shot him an amused look, then slipped right back into character. “I'm the best darn rodeo rider this side'a Georgia,” he boasted, sauntering closer to the bed. “Ain't no wild stallion I can't tame. So, reck'n you'll be my best ride yet.” The mechanic reached into the bedside drawer to fetch the lube, and took a moment to stand beside the bed, looking over his naked lover. “Safe word?” he asked.

Nick nodded up at him. “Witch.”

Ellis frowned. “Damn, Nick, really? All the words in the entire American language and you had to pick one that reminds me of the time you almost got yourself killed?”

“You almost got me killed,” retorted the hustler, squinting at him. “You're the one who spooked the bitch.” But he shook his head, letting a smile return to his red face. “Fine. Safe word is 'wedding'.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ellis blushed a little as he set the lube down on the table for now. “Good 'nough for me.” Slipping back into character once more, the Southerner crawled his way onto the bed and straddled his lover, halfway up his chest, at one point his erection bobbing near Nick's face. The gambler just watched on with hungry eyes. “Now then… one thing I know about tamin' the wilder beasts is that they need to be trained, sometimes with force.” Ellis looped the leather belt around Nick's neck gently, watching the older's green eyes for any signs of discomfort or fear. There was nothing but trust, and a lot of hunger.

Ellis cinched the belt, not tightly, but enough for Nick to feel the presence of his around his throat. With a twist of his hand, Ellis curled the leather around his wrist and tested the length. There was plenty to work with, and he grinned. “Damn, look at'chu, city boy.” Ellis backed up his hips, grinding himself backwards onto Nick's cock, and watching in triumph as Nick's eyelids fluttered slightly. “I think I'm gonna really enjoy ridin' you.”

The helpless gambler chuckled as he rested his hands on Ellis's thighs, watching those hips move back and forth and craning his neck back a little. A moan almost made it's way out of his mouth, but not quite. Ellis had to try harder. “You're getting more into the kinky sex, Overalls,” he smiled, throwing in a wink. “I'll take credit for that.”

With a tilt of his head, Ellis's hand pulled back, tightening the belt a little like pulling on the leash of a disobedient dog. Nick gasped beneath him, moaning in the afterthought, which made the cowboy grin. “You speak outta turn like that again and you'll be in the doghouse,” he threatened. Reaching over to the nightstand, he took the open tube of lubricant and squirted the thick liquid onto two fingers. The look in his baby blue eyes was so very kinky, and Nick could feel his cock give a twitch in appreciation as he pictured what Ellis was about to do with those fingers.

Picking up the belt once more with his clean hand, those fingers then went behind Ellis, slipped between his cheeks and found his pucker. The younger man was a dab hand at prepping himself, and knew his own body inside and out. While he worked his magic, he moaned aloud and reintroduced his bucking hips back into the mix. The sight was amazingly erotic, and Nick couldn't resist reaching over to play with Ellis's neglected dick. Ellis, for the most part, seemed to allow it, even bucking up again into the gambler's grasp.

“You're thinkin' about it now, aren't ya, city boy?” Ellis chuckled with an open-mouthed grin. “Thinkin' about me ridin' ya real good, getting' ya all hot 'n bothered...” He leant in slightly, pulling once more on Nick's restraint until the man was a little closer. “Thinkin' about how fuckin' good I'm gonna feel around your cock once I'm wet n' ready?”

That accent was so thick, deep with lust, and it was driving Nick crazy. The gambler gave a groan, just as the belt loosened again and allowed him is breath back. His head fell back to the pillow, already seeing a black fuzz around his vision. “God… sweet peach…”

“Yes, my darlin'?” Ellis crooned, by now with three fingers knuckle deep inside of himself.

“Ple…” Nick panted as he closed his eyes. “Please.”

That was all Ellis needed to hear. With another lop-sided smile, the mechanic shifted until he was kneeling and scooted back a little on Nick's body. He kept a keen eye on his fiancé's face, even as he reached behind, took Nick's cock in hand, and slipped himself down onto it like he'd done it a hundred times before.

The card shark grunted and turned his head a little, and Ellis could hear a shift behind him as Nick moved his legs. His feet was planting themselves onto the mattress and knees bending up, in order to provide him with the leverage he needed. Ellis leant back, slipping down further onto Nick's cock while at the same time resting against Nick's thighs like a back rest. He was grateful for that.

“How about that?” Ellis nearly sang as he shifted on Nicolas's lap. “You're bein' a good boy after all.”

Nick said nothing, just looked up at his Southern lover with a smile on his face, throwing in a wink for good measure. Ellis chuckled and wrapped the belt once more around his wrist for another harsh tug, at the same time, lifting his hips and slamming back down in a harsh bounce. The leather crackled in his grip, and Nick drew another breath. His face was getting redder. “El,” he managed, grinding out the noise, and Ellis was careful to make sure he had enough air to speak, should his next breath utter the safe word.

“Giddy up,” purred the cowboy, reaching up to hold his hat before beginning his ride. Putting all his power to his thighs, up and down Ellis's hips went as he bounced away. The sweetest moans left his throat – couldn't rightly help it, as Nick had always been the best lay of his life.

Nick's hands found their way to Ellis's hips, gripping him there and guiding him on and off his dick. In no time at all, Ellis was fully into the sex, letting go of his hat to reach back and steady himself on Nick's knee as he continued to ride him hard.

“Fuck yeah,” Nick murmured to himself as he gazed up at the scene Ellis was blessing him with. He groaned soon afterwards, craning his neck, and smiled up at his lover. “The belt… please… fuck...”

Ellis grinned and slowed his thrusts down a little in order to tug the belt once more, harsher and tighter than previously. Nick's knuckles went white around Ellis's hips.

“Look at ya… enjoyin' yourself so much,” Ellis praised and drove his hips down once more, grinding back on Nick's length. “C'mon, city boy, you know you wanna come inside'a me...”

Nick could hear the blood rushing around his head, fell the pleasure begin to whirlpool around his cock, and did the only thing he knew he could do. He moved a hand to Ellis's dancing erection and gave him a tight sleeve to fuck into, watching with watering eyes. The Southerner groaned and dropped the leather strap in favor of bracing both hands on Nick's legs, rocking himself like crazy. The gambler drew a gasp of air, Ellis threw his head back, and then it all went white.

“NICK!” Ellis broke character at the last minute to shout his fiancé's name in orgasm. He spilled semen all up Nick's chest and some managed to hit his chin. The sight was erotic enough to send the older man tumbling off the precipice himself, filling Ellis up until he was overflowing. Ellis moaned and lifted himself off for the last time, feeling warm liquid seep down the insides of his thighs.

With a sigh, Ellis leant forward and braced his hands on Nick's shoulders to prevent himself from falling atop him. The cowboy hat fell from his head and onto the floor beside the blunt end of the belt. The mechanic looked up at last, seeing Nick with his eyes closed and drawing in large breaths. He blushed as he reached up to carefully removed the leather from his neck, letting it clatter to the carpet.

“Darlin'?” Ellis whispered as he lifted himself off of Nick, in the process grabbing some tissues in order to clear them both up. “Nick.”

Nick opened his eyes at last, letting them fall onto his cute young lover as he grinned. “Even after all these years...” He reached out to cup El's cheek, rubbing his thumb there. “...you still surprise me, Overalls.”

Once the necessary clean-up had been finished, Ellis crawled back onto the bed and cuddled right up to his gambler, running his hand through his fine chest hair. “Glad you enjoyed the show, Nick.” He looked down, admired the ring still snugly on his finger. “Yeah, not quite how you pictured your night goin', huh?”

“No, sir,” agreed Nick and moved his hand up to lace their fingers together. “But if this is how the rest of my life is gonna go, I think I'm okay with that.”

With a short laugh, Ellis reached up to kiss him, rubbing his thumb along Nick's jaw. “Love you, city boy.”

#nellis #nick/ellis #l4d2 #draconicauthor #its so good to be writing them again asdfgfjkdgh ;-;#anonymous

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scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

AAR - XXVII - Reports of the Missing

'In through nose, out through mouth.'

Russia shakes slightly and tries his best to calm himself down. Finally, when his blurry vision calms, he shakily stands and searches the room for America. As soon as Russia spots America, he makes a beeline for him. He wants to wrap his arms tightly around America but ends up standing behind him. Russia tries to keep himself under control, forcing his arms to his sides.

Being close to America did make him feel a little safer.

Canada shouts for a roll call. As soon as it was over, Finland and Dixie barricaded the exits.

America examines Maryland's hands and sighs. America turns and jumps when he sees Russia.

"Jesus!" America shouts before groaning, "I'm going to have to get used to that."

Russia's eyes fall to the floor. He shakes off the guilt as best he could and his concern for Maryland returns.

"How's Maryland?" Russia asks.

"Her hands are still numb, but I don't think there's anything I can do. I don't sense any physical or magic injury," America says, worry in his tone.

"That's not good," Russia comments.

"Yeah. Right now, we might just have to wait. If we're lucky, it's temporary. It should be, I don't sense any nerve damage."

Russia nods and jumps a foot in the air when movement approaches him from his right. He spins around and sees Texas standing behind him with a startled look and an outstretched arm.

"Whoa howdy, are you alright?" Texas asks, taking a step back.

Russia sighs.

"I'm fine," Russia insists.

America turns to Russia and gives him a skeptical look but he shakes it off.

"Mare," America says, turning back to his daughter, "stay close to Illinois and tell me if anything changes, okay?"

Maryland gives a shaky sigh and turns around, walking off. Illinois takes Maryland into a hug and helps calm her down. America sighs and his shoulders slump. America turns to Russia and latches onto his torso. He hugs for a moment before pulling back and looking Russia over.

"Are you hurt?" America asks.

Russia shakes his head. "Are you?"

"No, I'm fine," America says with a shaking tone with a sigh.

Russia takes America's hands to his chest and America leans against him on top of their hands. Their foreheads touch and Russia sighs. He opens his eyes and admires America's face but jumps back when he sees motion in his peripheral vision.

"*God d*** it,*" Russia mutters under his breath.

"You're being pretty jumpy, are you sure you're okay?" America asks.

'No.'

"Yes, I'm fine," Russia says.

'I don't want to bother you.'

"You don't need to worry," Finland chimes in from the corner, cleaning one of the guns, "we won't let anything get in."

Russia nods and smiles at those around him. Most of the kids look skeptical of him, but even then, they look more trusting than they had been before.

'Why do they look like that? What did they see through the door?'

Someone puts a hand on his shoulder and Russia stiffens, spinning around. He comes face to face with Dixie, and he steps back. Dixie's face scrunched up for a second before offering Russia a neutral expression. Dixie opens his mouth to say something but doesn't get the chance.

Then someone hugs Russia from behind. Russia holds back the instinct to elbow the person for a moment and he hears America giggling. A squeak emits from the back of Russia's throat when America lifts him up off the ground.

America marches them over to his mat and he dumps Russia onto it. Russia laughs.

"Rue Rue, you need to warm up," America says, waggling his finger with his hand on his hip, "don't want you to get sick."

America turns to leave and Russia reaches out, wanting to ask him to stay. But Russia changes his mind drops his arm.

'The kids need him more than I do right now.'

Russia carefully takes off the scarf and tosses his jacket to the side, wrapping himself in a fuzzy blanket and putting his back to the wall. He carefully scans the room, taking stock of everything in the building.

Someone sits beside him and Russia jerks, spinning around to stare at them. He tries to calm himself down.

Colorado smiles from next to him and North Dakoda sits on Colorado's left.

"Heya Russ."

Russia smiles. "Hello."

"So... could you tell us about what kind of stuff you guys saw when you were gone?"

"From before?"

"Just start from when you left the house."

Russia thinks back and his memories begin to swirl.

'It has been such a long time since I've seen the big house,' he realizes. This thought comes with a bittersweet feeling.

"When we first left the house," Russia begins, "we tried to track America's location with magic, but that only brought trouble."

"What do you mean?" Colorado asks.

"We didn't find America. We found monsters that crawled like spiders and one of them jumped off a cliff. We also saw..."

Images of the confusing sights he had seen in the trees flash in his mind.

"Stairs."

"Wait, stairs?" Iowa interrupts.

Russia jolts up a little and he looks around in shock. He sees that instead of only having a few states sitting around him, he is the epicenter of a huge group. He watches how all of the states, provinces, and countries sit around on mats and blankets, listening to every word.

"Yeah," Massachusetts says, "They were clean and covered in white carpeting."

"That's bull," Alabama says with crossed arms.

"No, it was real," Texas emphasizes, "I started walking over to it before I even knew what I was doing. Russ over here stopped me before I touched 'em."

Russia nods in confirmation before continuing.

"We were attacked by monsters and we started finding cameras when we started exploring a cave system. When we got deeper, the walls started shaking. We tried to escape when a rock fell and trapped us inside."

Russia raises his arms to emphasize the shaking.

"It almost crushed me," Canada adds, and the provinces crowd around him with gasps.

"Then there was the knocking on the walls. It led us out of there. Kind of," Texas says.

"What do you mean 'Kind of'?" Delaware asks nervously.

"Well, it led us out onto a ledge and the ledge crumbles," Russia says, "we fell into the trees."

"You fell?! From where?" America squeaks.

"I'd say 20 stories up. I was crashing down and thought I was finna die," Louisiana adds, "I just remember waking up in a tent with Texas sleepin' next to me."

"Ute found us," Canada says.

Colorado cheers, "See, I told you it was a good idea!"

"Then, we were kidnapped," Russia says, and the children go quiet.

"And Texas wasn't feeling too good neither," Louisiana adds, "'pparently he was havin' some bad weather and it was making him sick. We had to hold back for a little while."

Texas looks away, his hat hiding his face. "'m sorry Dad. I tried to keep lookin'. I tried."

"Tex, you couldn't even f***ing stand," Massachusetts snarks, "and we weren't going to leave you behind."

"I was not going to let you walk into a trap when you couldn't defend yourself," Russia defends.

"Was still a trap anyway," Texas mutters.

"All of you, come here," America demands, gathering Louisiana, Massachusetts, and Texas into a hug.

"Dad, we're okay!" Texas says, "we're all okay."

"Don't you dare tell me not to worry!" America exclaims, "you shouldn't have been involved. You guys almost died! I am allowed to dote on you for a few minutes."

Massachusetts rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away.

"We were attacked by a bunch of dead animals. It was gross," Russia says blandly, his nose wrinkles, "and a bunch of monsters came out to drag us down into the mineshaft that we were looking at."

"I tried to shoot one of 'em and it ricocheted back at me. It hit me in the shoulder," Texas explains, rolling up his leave to show off his patch of scar tissue that contrasts drastically with the skin on his arm.

"Tex, I don't know who you're fooling, but that ain't a bullet wound," New Mexico remarks.

"Well, I don't remember much," Texas admits, "but it hurt."

"The monsters started digging into your shoulder," Russia elaborates with a shiver, "I tried to hit the one holding me to help you, but I cut myself."

America winces.

"I tried to disinfect everything, but Russ' hatchet still had stuff from the animals, so I didn't have much luck," Louisiana says.

America spins to Russia and stares with wide eyes and even Finland looks surprised.

"No wonder your leg was so bad," America mutters.

"Then we found Finland and were trying to find you based on your magic," Russia says, looking at America.

"Did you find him?"

"Dude, shut up. Don't be a dumba**."

"America found us," Russia admits.

"Phil is the only reason I actually came to investigate," America says, and Philippines shows a bright smile.

"I'm glad you did," Canada says, "we were in a pretty bad spot."

"Then we got out of the caves into a building. We think it is a military base," Russia says, "Massachusetts got a phone and he called you."

The states nod and soon, questions begin flying around the room, and Russia tries his best to field as many as he could.

The stories are still worrying, but talking about them was a good distraction from the slime still sitting outside.

America stands up and hugs Canada tightly. After a few minutes, America leaves Canada to his providences and walks over to Russia, smiling softly.

"You guys went through a lot," America mumbles, leaning his head on Russia's shoulder, "I'm happy we all made it out okay."

They sit quietly before America sits up a little.

"Have you talked to your dad?" America asks.

Russia shakes his head.

"Well, you should. You promised to tell him what we found, right?"

"Yes, I did."

"You should do it. Maybe not now, it's loud. But you should call him later tonight."

Russia nods in agreement. America sighs and Russia laces his fingers in America's and smiles. America leans up and kisses Russia's chin. Russia leans his head on America's head and relaxes. Chatter surrounds them, and Texas and Massachusetts loudly go into detail about what they had been through. Russia tunes them out the best he can and smiles at America.

'Hopefully, we will find something to stop this,' Russia thinks, 'I just want to go home with Meri.'

Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

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hcs-and-abnormalities · 4 years

Note

Howdy stranger! I’m here to bring welcoming cheers and also Der Frei/Clouded Monk requests if you’re okay with it - I’m interested on how you think Der Frei and Clouded Monk get to the point where they’re talking about who confesses to who first. Thank you!

Sorry this took so long! I wanted to do something more than just bullet points for something like this!

Also quick warning for blood but like this is Lob Corp and blood is like rain.

Comission work wasn’t strange to Der Freischütz. If anything, that was one of the main reasons the employees routinely came to him; the other being that he was one of the easier abnormalities to manage. What was strange to him, though, was the target he was to be aiming for. What little information he got and what he saw only made the target stranger. The monster looked like a man, yet also not. A twisted depiction of such? One that used to be human, still looked human, but... wrong? He didn’t know. He just shot.

In order to calm the curiousity that made it’s home in the back of his mind, he one day questioned the employee currently working with him.

“Oh? The Clouded Monk? Yeah, he breached yesterday, not too long after I worked with him either. Feel pretty bad about it too. Normally he’s pretty calm and quiet, yet when I last worked with him, he seemed panicked. Almost on the verge of tears and hugging himself. Kept talking about ‘the demon.’ Felt bad for the guy but there wasn’t much I could do...”

That only piqued the markman’s curiousity more. He was a devil after all... maybe that’s why he felt so strange about this other abnormality? He was similar, in a way. Though, the sources of their hauntings were strikenly different...

And that’s when the marksmen decided he wanted to meet him. Wouldn’t be the first time he interacted with another abnormality (what with his friendships with both Funeral and Red) but this was definitely the first time he initiated it himself.

So, he did something that, technically wasn’t breaching, but might as well have been. You see, his gun can fire anywhere he wishes, as well as creating portals with it. So, all he had to do was think of where he wanted to go, shoot, and walk through.

Of course, the still recuperating monk was... less than thrilled to have the ground in front of him shot with the same bullet that pierced him the other day. He winced, stumbling to his feet and held his staff close to his chest. He shook slightly, though both abnormalities knew this wasn’t from fear.

Der Freischütz cocked his head. Huh, he looked... different. He was much less like a monster, and more so just an ordinary man. Of course, he was unable to see his face (or any skin for that matter), but he could tell from the way he held himself and acted that he was not the creature he shot.He opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off.

“You can’t just... who even are you?” The monk was the one who broke the silence. Despite his shrouded eyes, Der Freischütz knew he was staring daggers right at him.

Frei raised his hand to speak, “Apologies. It was quicker to use my rifle.”

“Quicker to use? Sounds like an excuse you’d use often...” the monk said. Der Freischütz stiffened. “From your reaction, I seem to be correct in that assumption.”

“I didn’t come here to be judged,” Frei said, laying the barrel of the gun on his shoulder, “I just wanted to talk.”

“About what—?”

“...and apologize.”

That caught the monk off guard. So much so that he actually stepped back. “You... want to apologize?”

Frei nodded, then sighed. “I was the one who shot you when you last breached. Remember the bullet?”

“I know it was your bullet. Anyone would know that from the way it shoots straight across the place. No, I’m asking why you of all people would apologize. You’ve never shown remorse before, so why now?”

It was Frei’s turn to step back. “Why would you—?” He paused, “Oh...” Of course the monk knew. Everyone knew in this place. After all, once you see a bullet streak past you, you want to know where and why it was there. That leads to finding his information, then his past... “There’s no privacy in this damn place, is there?”

“Should a murderer like you even get privacy?” The monk had sat back down on the ground. The freeshooter wasn’t as much of a threat as he had thought. Besides, he still was injured enough that he’d rather not stand. “Doing what you do... killing for the fun of it. Even going as far as to shoot your own fiance.”

Frei looked down, hands shaking. This was a mistake. “Truthfully, I was hoping you’d understand.” The monk moved to speak again, but the marksman cut him off, “Of all people, you’d understand what it was like to be tricked.”

Silence.

“...you were tricked?” The monk was the one to break the silence once again. He looked up to the devil, unsure.

Frei moved to sit down as well, tired of towering over the already shorter monk. His gun clattered to the floor next to him.

“When you’re bleeding out, you’re not exactly in the right state of mind...” Frei started. “Besides... it... she told me she would rather herself have... then me being trapped for eternity...”

“In the end, it was her decision.”

The monk stayed quiet for a moment. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s fine, most do.” Frei said.

“....we really are similar. In the end. I... I still shouldn’t have...” The monk breathed in, then out. His bandaged fingers fumbled around his staff, the rings on the end jingling slightly. He stared at the ground. “Allow me to make it up to you at least.”

“You really don’t have to. It doesn’t matter that much anyway,” Frei sighed, moving to get up and leave. Instead, a bandaged hand grabbed the hem of his cloak.

“But it does matter. How about this, perhaps you could come back tomorrow, and I could get to know you... the real you.”

“And why should I?”

“Because, I can tell you’re just as lonely as I am...” the monk smiled, “You’re not the only one to sense souls. Yours probably should have tipped me off from the start anyway.”

Der Freischütz weighed his options. The monk was telling the truth but... he just met this man, and it had already been a roller coaster of emotions... but... like he said himself, the two of them were very, very similar.

“Okay, it’s a deal then.”

///

The visits continued, luckily without the accusations and random shots at the ground.

Of course, the facility knew of this. They weren’t exactly trying hard to hide their newfound friendship either. The two had been known to both passively breach at times. Both of them just walking down the halls, sometimes taking out some hostile entity to save some poor clerk. After all, despite his dulled numbness to death... Frei didn’t want the monk to suffer from the scent of flesh blood.

Slowy, the two also began to get more... touchy? Not in a weird way, but rather, it became a regular occurrence to see one sleeping on the other. Something so simple yet produced so much enkephalin... It’d be counterproductive to stop this.

“So this dagger was...?” The monk asked. The weapon, sheathed, glinted under the Corporation’s fluorescent lights. A blue dagger with silver accents.

Frei nodded, “She gave it to me. She always talked about how knives weren’t just for violence, but rather for survival as well. She didn’t want me to be in a situation where I wouldn’t be able to cut free from.” His soft smile was evident, as in his time with the monk, he’d become less and less stand-offish towards him. The cowl was pulled down, so his mouth was visible. Or... it was at least visible when opened.

The monk palmed the bandages on his face. Maybe... he wanted to... would it be okay if....? He handed the dagger back to Frei, who pocketed it.

“You seem... troubled today? What is wrong?” Frei leaned against his side. The close warmth made something in the monk’s chest jump.

“Well! I am just fine, thank you.”

“A person who is fine doesn’t insist they are fine,” Frei said, he leaned closer to him. Closing his eyes. He stifled a small laugh when the monk tapped his forehead. “Am I wrong though?”

The monk huffed. “No... I just... I am bot sure how to go about this... never happened to me before.” He started to fuss with the bandages again. Below them, there was a significant red flush that was left unseen.

That made Der Freischütz perk up. The small demon-like tail that the monk adored so much swished eagerly. “What do you mean?” He removed himself, and the monk wished he could pull him back to his side. He had enough wherewithal not too though. “Are your bandages bothering you? Besides, I don’t think I have ever seen you remove them.”

The monk’s hands slipped down, but he said nothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat before he could. He replaced them with another. “I’m just... I just don’t want people to see my face. At least, not just anyone.”

Der Freischütz nodded, but didn’t pry.

///

Days later, a pounding at his cell’s door woke Frei out of his half-awake state. He shook his head, holding his forehead as an employee ran in, boxes in their hands. “The Clouded Monk has breached! We need you to shoot him again!”

Frei’s body turned cold.

If he refused, the demon could kill people... something the monk would never want to do ever in his life.

But... he had to shoot him.

He had to shoot the person he loved again.

The sudden realization hit him harder than the bullet that pierced his own heart did. So... he did love the monk. Out of instinct, he placed his hand over his chest, where his heart would of been. Nothing beat of course, all that lay there was a gaping hole, but something there still ached. He passed it off as the phantom pains of old wounds. Now, he knew he was wrong.

Before he had a chance to truly respond to the request, the employee had departed. Frei shook. He... he had to do this, right?

///

The monk woke up coughing blood. He hoped it was his own. The other option being...

He tried to stumble away, but was quickly restrained my a strong but kind arm. Soon, it registered that he was laying on someone. He opened his mouth to speak, suddenly aware of the cold air hitting his face. He was quickly quieted though. A soft hand brushing through the hair on his hatless head.

“Der Freischütz?”

“I had to shoot you,” Frei said, his voice quiet and barely audible. “I... I am sorry.”

The monk tried to sit up again, clutching his chest where the bullet hit. He still managed though, getting into an upright position. He still leaned on Frei though, he... he needed someone. “Not your fault. I did tell you I’d rather you shoot me then the alternative.”

Fumbling, the monk realized how the bandages were much looser than before. The ones on his chest were also changed. A look to the corner showed where the bloodstained and torn old ones went.

“You were bleeding rather heavily, and those ones got soaked. Don’t worry, I only removed the ones on your abdomen, nothing else was removed. Sorry about your mouth though. They came loose and I couldn’t find a way to reapply them without restricting your breathing.”

The monk picked up on the slight waver in the marksman’s voice. The unusually quiet and saddened tone he spoke in was much different from his stoic yet soft way of speaking. He also kept clawing at his chest, where his heart would be.

He didn’t know the full details, but he knew nothing lay under his hand there. So why did he...?

In a split second decision ruled by emotion rather than complex thought, the Clouded Monk removed the rest of the bandages on his face. The fell to the ground, folding over themselves.

Freischütz shut his eyes tight, adverting his gaze. In response, the monk gently cupped his cheek, and turned his head back.

Freischütz opened his eyes. They widened after seeing the monk’s face, and the Clouded Monk swore he could see slight sparks under the marksman’s skin.

“Sorry, it’s not much but...”

“Don’t say that!”

Ah, the monk smiled at seeing the cold demon’s face grow hot with blush. He was so... bashful about any emotions he had. Especially if he shouted out those emotions in the heat of the moment.

“I just... thought you only wanted to show someone you trusted—“

Realization dawned on him. “Oh...”

“Oh indeed. Judging by your reaction... Hopefully those feelings aren’t unrequited.” A small stab of worry his the monk’s heart but... after seeing Frei’s face, he knew. And knowing made his own heart beat faster.

Frei sighed, “I... they aren’t by any means... you could probably figure out why I... hated having to...” Der Freischütz shut his eyes tight. Painful memory, or embarrassment at opening his heart? “But... in any case, I guess we both...” Frei leaned his head against the monk’s shutting his eyes. His tail wrapped around the monk’s waist; the fluffy wispy end laid where the bullet hit.

The monk laughed weaky, a smile forming on his face as he leaned back against the devil. “I do love you.”

Frei purred, “And I love you.”

#fic #der freischütz #clouded monk

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justskulkingaround · 4 years

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Re-Homed (A Chapter from one of my Wattpad Books)

Once Dixie finally got the chance to think, he nearly started screaming. He figures that New Jersey would not appreciate that, seeing as the state was driving through the dark roads of late evening.

"What's wrong, Uncle Dixie?" Virginia asks.

"What was I thinkin'?!" he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air.

"We did all agree wit you, so you're thinking something right," New York comments, typing something on his phone before setting it aside.

"What are you worried about?" Quebec questions in her heavily accented English.

"Alaska," Dixie admits, "she's a youngin and shouldn't be goin' out on monster hunts. I'm afraid she's gonna get hurt. The rest of the states can hold their own, but I worry 'bout her."

"Why don't we go send her to stay with someone else?" New York suggests.

"Like who? Canada is gone, and Aussie has enough goin' on as it is. He just got attacked a few days ago, he can't take nobody else. And I don't trust UK or those damn European Countries as far as I can throw 'em," Dixie replies sullenly. The car goes quiet.

"Well, what about Soviet?" New Jersey offers.

"Are y'all goin' crazy?" Virginia exclaims.

"No. Just...hear me out. You remember West and his stunt during the Cold War? Soviet didn't say a word to the other countries and didn't use any of us against Dad, not even as blackmail. The officials didn't know what had happened or that the states had personifications. There's a reason why Dad still respects him and told us not to hold it against him," New Jersey explains, not taking his eyes off the road. The other passengers go quiet.

"Besides, Russia spoke highly of him, and it would be far enough away to be safer," New Jersey continues, "and doesn't Russia have like 14 siblings or something? They're probably there now, so a large group of adult countries and a late superpower. Sounds pretty safe to me."

"Besides, Hawaii would be going with her. She'll keep an eye on Alaska and keep her outa trouble," New Yorks adds.

"But we haven't known Russia for very long, and the commies could do somethin' to her while she's there," Virginia counters.

"The only reason Russia was here was because of Soviet! Soviet sent him here to help Dad. Besides, it may not be the best option, but it might be the only one we have! Whatever is out here took down Canada, Massachusetts, Russia, Louisiana, and Texas! We shouldn't be taking extra risks right now. It might be better if we have her staying somewhere where she is safe and protected," New Jersey defends.

Virginia opens her mouth to deny his suggestion but closes her mouth a few moments later. Quebec puts a hand on her shoulder in a show of support.

Dixie laughs. Their heads whip toward him in concern, and he wipes the tears off his face. "She did always want a grandfather. What'd she say? A dadooshke?" he asks.

"Дедушка," New York corrects automatically.

"That's what I said," Dixie replies, and New York shoots him a skeptical look.

"I'll send you the phone number," New York suggests, "and you can call him about it."

"Now?" Dixie asks. New York rolls his eyes.

"Yes, I need to know our plans before I start trying to buy plane tickets," New York replies, retrieving his phone, and his fingers fly around the screen.

A few moments later, Dixie's phone buzzes and he lifts it to see a contact number.

"Thanks, kiddo," he says before tapping it. He grows hopeful that this was a feasible plan to keep Alaska out of trouble. Now he just has to make sure it would work.

The phone rang for a few moments before someone picked up.

"Hello?" someone answers. Dixie doesn't recognize the voice and the language sounds vaguely slavic in nature.

"Howdy. This is Dixie with the states. I was wantin' to talk to Soviet," Dixie introduces, wincing at the rushed introduction. He hears someone shout something in unintelegable to him, but the tone gave him the impression the speaker was calling for someone, hopefully, Soviet.

"Give me one moment," the person on the other end mumbles before covering the microphone and shouting again. There is some audible fumbling before the phone is handed off.

"Hello?" Soviet asks.

"Howdy! This is Dixie," Dixie replies enthusiastically.

"Hello. Why are you calling?" Soviet questions.

'Right to the point, okay,' Dixie thinks.

"I was wondering if you would be able to do us Americans a huge favor," Dixie prompts.

"What kind of favor? Aren't you staying together in the main house?" Soviet questions, curious.

"No, we ain't there no more. I'm afraid that the search party is in real danger, and we're rushin' down there as we speak, but we have someone with us that can't stay."

"What are you implying?" Soviet questions.

"Would you be willin' to house Alaska for a while? At least until this is over. I know this is sudden, and trust me, it ain't my first choice, but I'm graspin' at straws. She's too little to fend for herself, and keeping her with us puts her in danger. I just don't want her gettin' hurt."

"...how old is she?"

"She is the human age of 7-ish, right Yorky?" Dixie replies, and New York nods in conformation, "yeah, 7."

"Will she have an escort with her?"

"Yes. Hawaii, the oldest of them states, will be going with her if you're willlin' to house 'em."

"I would like to talk to them before making a decision," Soviet replies.

"Hey Joisey, the others are saying that they need to stop for gas and to swap drivers. Any exits near us?" New York interjects, typing away on his phone.

"It's Jersey, York. And yeah, tell them I'll pull off on Exit 352," New Jersey remarks, moving to the right lane, and the cars behind them follow.

"I'll give them the phone in just a few minutes if ya don't mind the wait," Dixie comments.

"Do what you must," Soviet replies. Dixie puts himself on mute and helps navigate and direct New Yorks directions from the maps.

Once they are stopped and the states step out to stretch their legs, Dixie walks the phone over to Hawaii, who has Alaska attached to her hip.

"Has New York told you about the plan?" Dixie asks.

"Yes. I don't like it, but it will keep Alaska more safe. Will I be able to talk with USSR?" Hawaii replies, sounding apprehensive.

"Yeah. I got him on the phone here," Dixie replies, unmuting the phone and handing the it to Hawaii. Hawaii introduces herself as Alaska's current guardian with America absent. After a few more minutes of talking, she hands the phone down to Alaska, who takes it with shyly.

"Hello?" she says into the phone. She is quiet for a moment until her eyes light up and she gasps dramatically.

"You're Mr. Soviet! You're Mr. Russia's papa, right?" she asks enthusiastically. Dixie assumes that Soviet says yes, because Alaska begins enthusiastically talking into the phone as if he was already family.

"Hi!! I'm Alaska and I'm 61 whole years old! But daddy says that I should say I'm 7 'cuz the humans don't understand how years work. It's so weird! Are you really Mr. Russia's dad? Mr. Russia is very nice. According to Daddy, he's my papa. Does that mean that you are my grandpa?!" Alaska rattles off, bouncing in place with a huge grin on her face. She gasps aloud and exclaims, "I've always wanted a grandpa!"

"Okay 'Laska, darlin'. I think that's enough," Dixie says gently, taking the phone from the child hands and hoping that she hadn't scared away the late superpower on the other side.

"Are y'all still there?" Dixie asks into the phone, hesitent.

"I will house them for as long as you need," Soviet replies, "and I wish to see Alaska in the future after this is over."

Dixie feels a heavy weight being lifted from his back. "Thank you," he says with a sigh of relief.

"She reminds me of Russia when he was young. I would be happy to take care of her and whoever must help escort her here," Soviet offers.

"Oh thank the Lord above," Dixie mutters under his breath before returning the phone to his ear. "That would be amazing. Thank you. When can we send her?" he says.

"As soon as you can. Inform me when they are expected to land so I may be there to escort them to my home," Soviet replies.

"New York will get y'all all set up with the details, but we hope to have them there by the end of the week," Dixie promises.

"Okay, I will see them then. Was there anything else you needed?" Soviet replies.

"Nope, that's it. Thank you again for your help."

"It is not a problem. All I ask in return is that my son is able to come home. Goodbye, Dixie."

"Bye," Dixie says and he hangs up the phone, feeling more accomplished than he had in the past few days. He breaths a long sigh of relief.

"Hey Alaska?" Dixie calls.

"What?" Alaska replies.

"How would you like to stay with Mr. Soviet for a little while with Hawaii?" Dixie suggests.

Alaska gasps and pulls her hands to her mouth. "Really?!" she squeals. Dixie nods, and Alaska hugs him around the leg before jumping into Hawaii's arms.

"YAY!" she cries in victory and throws her hands in the air in excitement.

'She'll be safer there than with us. At least for now,' Dixie thinks, and feels the relief nearly send him to his knees.

Hawaii and Alaska have tickets directly to Russia a few hours later and were to board a plane early the next morning. Dixie pushes down any worries. If anything happens, Hawaii is capable and regardless, they weren't making themselves targets, he assures himself.

The goodbye the next morning is quick. It's a lot faster than what Dixie would've preferred under normal circumstances, but they have a long way to go to get to Colorado and they didn't have time for unnecessary stops.

As soon as the pair disappear behind the automatic doors of the airport doors, they drive on with brief waves of goodbye. Dixie hopes he made the right choice.

#countryhumans #statehumans #providencehumans #if you want more context #read Puppets by me on Wattpad #there might be links under the tag puppets #puppets #text #ends up with fleshed out story bits #just finished writing this #kinda proud tbh #don't realy know if its any good #but oh well #ch new york #ch new jersey #ch dixie #ch quebec #ch virginia #ch soviet

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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Fic ideas that I don’t know if I should continue

Well howdy there folks, so here’s the thing, I’m looking through my saved documents and have found a few fics that I’ve started (And by started I mean, I’ve written like 1 page max for each one) For one reason or another, I never got around to continuing them, and reading over them again now, I’m not sure if I should. I’ll post what I have bellow, but I would really love to know if anyone out there would be interested in reading these?

If you are interested and would like to be tagged in the eventually finished product, just let me know 😊

Soulmate Fic. Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader

Have you found your soulmate yet? If not, don’t panic, they’re out there somewhere! There have been cases of people not finding their soulmate until they turn sixty! But how do you know if you have found, the one? While scientists are still unable to explain exactly how this occurs, the moment you are in close proximity to your soulmate, you are able to hear them whenever they sing. But keep in mind, it is only when they sing, not when they listen to music!

**********

“If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe I'd been married a long time ago Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?”

The moment you first hear your soulmate’s voice singing in your head, you practically had a heart attack. Okay, so not quite, but you did find yourself quite flustered. So much so, that the egg you were in the midst of cracking for the cake you were making, ended up with the egg itself in the trash, while the shell was deposited into the cake mix. “Bloody fucking fuckety fuck!” You hiss, as you scoop the cracked shell out of the flour mix. This was certainly not how you had imagined your first encounter with your soulmate would go. You always heard about couples who had cute first interactions! Like one of them was singing old show tunes, or something of the likes. But oh no, what do you get? God damned Cotton Eye Joe.

You hear a door slam in the apartment, followed but feet pounding down the corridor. “I heard swearing, is everything alright?” Your best friend Ben appears in the kitchen entry, his green eyes scanning the room for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine, don’t stress.” You smile softly, the frown which had enveloped your features only moments ago, quickly vanishing as you take in Ben’s worried expression.

He nods, blonde curls swaying over his forehead. “Alright, if you’re sure Y/N, because I’m more than happy for you to borrow my oven, but I’m not alright with you injuring yourself in my home!”

“Duly noted. Thank you Benjamin.” You poke your tongue out at him, before turning back to the recipe, scanning over the paper for the next step. Ben had been more than willing for you to borrow his oven for the afternoon, the baking bug had bitten you, but you had recently found yourself without a functioning oven, which is how you found yourself stood in his apartment now, baking a monstrosity of a chocolate cake, complete with four layers.

Ben slides up next to you, leaning his back against the kitchen counter, looking over at you quizzically. “No, but really, what was the swearing all about?”

You shrug half-heartedly, keeping your eyes focused on the mundane task of whisking the ingredients together. “It was nothing, just heard something surprising is all.”

Ben nods, and for a split second you truly believe he will drop the subject, but you sadly have no such luck. “As in, you heard something surprising on the radio, or you heard something surprising in your head….”

Turning in his direction, you shoot a glare his way, hoping it would convey your desire for him to no longer pursue his line of questioning. “Y/N Y/L/N, I swear to any and all higher powers, if you mean to tell me that you just heard your soulmate while standing in my fucking kitchen, I will murder you!”

Your silence seems to be answer enough, and Ben lets out a screech, before planting his large hands over your shoulders, and pushing you towards the front door. “Ben! What to hell are you doing?” You squawk, as he marches you out of his apartment, and down the three flights of stairs that lead to the main entrance. “Seriously Ben, the oven is still on, you shouldn’t leave an oven unattended!”

Ben ignores you, removing one hand from your shoulder, for just long enough to open the double glass doors, before pushing you out and onto the street. “You will stand out here singing, until your soulmate finds you.”

Your mouth hangs open, as you turn to look at the triumphant grin on your best friend’s face. He genuinely looks proud of this plan he has come up with, and it worries you that he doesn’t seem to recognise the many, MANY flaws in this plan. “So what, I’m just supposed to stand out here for the rest of my life then? Ben your apartment is on a bloody main road! Whoever it was, was probably just driving past!”

“Well here’s a good way to figure that out, can you still hear singing?”

You stop dead in your tracks, scowling at the blonde. You had been so preoccupied with being physically dragged outside, that you had stopped paying any attention to the song playing in your head. “Well, the song’s changed.” You mutter, listening to the chorus of the Phantom of the Opera theme. You had to give your soulmate credit where it was due, whoever they were, they could certainly carry a tune. Though perhaps opera wasn’t their strong suit….

“I promise to put everything for your cake in the fridge alright? You can finish it off later on, but for now, I don’t want to see you back in my apartment for at least the next hour alright?”

---

Getting caught in the rain after work. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

The phone rings, once, twice, three times. Neither you nor your fellow receptionist feel the desire to answer the incoming call, both of you knowing what the person on the other end of the line is after. It’s always the same, a patient will call up, desperate the see a Doctor immediately, paying no mind to the fact that they have just called on a Monday morning, three hours after the GP clinic had opened. You couldn’t count how many times you had been yelled at today by patients who couldn’t get their way.

“I got the last one.” Jean smirks, gesturing to the incoming call with a pen.

“Oh, I didn’t realise we were keeping tally of how many calls we had answered today.” You grin back, swivelling in your chair to face the phone. Despite the constantly ringing phones, there had been an unexpected, but not unwanted lull in patients these past ten minutes, allowing yourself and Jean to take a bit of a breather from the chaos the morning had brought with it.

“Good morning, general practitioners’ clinic, Y/N speaking.” You greet, as you pick up the receiver, a friendly smile pasted over your lips. Rule one of working in a Doctor’s clinic, always speak with a smile in your voice.

“I’m dying.” A soft melodic voice wails through the line, causing you to pause mid-sentence. You would recognise that voice anywhere, whether you necessarily wanted to or not.

“Mister Taylor, I can assure you, you are not dying.” Jean turns to face you, raising a knowing eyebrow. She had played witness to what she called, yours and Mister Taylor’s ‘flirting’ for months now.

“And how do you know that?”

“Well, according to you Mister Taylor-“

“It’s Roger.”

“Sorry, Roger. According to you, you have been dying for the past week and a half. Either you had better hurry up and die, or recover immediately.”

The line goes silent for a moment, and you almost think that perhaps Roger had hung up. “Do you talk to all your patients like this?”

“No, only you.”

“Oh, well I’m honoured then.” There’s a soft laugh that breaks through Roger’s voice, and you can almost picture the cocky grin he’s sporting. He thinks he’s won, he always does. You know exactly how this conversation will end, it’s the same way your conversations have always ended. “So, will you let me take you out sometime soon? There’s a new pub that’s opened up on main, looks like it’s a little less dodgy than some of the others around.”

You pull the phone away from your lips to groan.

---

John Deacon has a new room-mate who doesn’t understand that paying the drums late at night is NOT socially acceptable. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

You press your face into your pillow with almost too much force, just escaping from bruising your nose, while your hands clamp down over your ears, a second pillow arched over the back of your head, the sides pressed firmly against the shell of your ear. Three weeks this had been going on, for three whole weeks, you found yourself attempting to fall asleep every night, with a pile of pillows threatening to suffocate you. Why, you may be asking? Well for three weeks straight, your usually quiet next-door neighbour had had someone staying with him, and that someone had clearly decided bringing a drum kit with him, was a phenomenal idea! Of course, you wouldn’t mind the drumming if it occurred during the day, but for some reason, this person had decided the ideal time to practise, was from ten in the evening onwards. Surely you couldn’t be the only one in your apartment building who had an issue with the late night percussionist? Though maybe they were all the same as you, unsure how to approach the subject of asking them to stop? You had known John Deacon for a few months now, he had moved in back in July, and you had had a few fleeting conversations with the gentle man, mostly when you happened to cross paths while collecting mail, or taking out the garbage. during those chats, he never seemed like the type of person to condone such ungodly behaviour. Though you suppose, looks can be deceiving. So, after three weeks and two days of only sleeping for close to three hours a night, you decided to finally take matters into your own hands. By writing a well worded letter.

“Dear Mr John Deacon’s housemate. If you could please refrain from playing your drums in the evening, during the time period where most people are attempting to sleep, that would be greatly appreciated. While I have no issues with your drumming in general, I do have an issue with you practising so late in the day. Perhaps you would consider playing in the afternoon instead, whilst most occupants of this apartment building, are at work? Kind regards, Y/N.”

You smile triumphantly down at the letter, folding it neatly before placing it into an envelope, leaving it unsealed, then resting it on your kitchen counter, you would drop it off on your way to work. Curling up back on your bed, you turn a pointed glare towards your bedroom wall, the thin plaster being all that separated you from the obnoxious drummer. “One way or another, I will make you stop drumming.” You grumble, before returning to your original position, of being buried beneath your pillows.

By the time your alarm clock sprang to life, you had managed to squeeze in another two hours of sleep, which made for a record four and a half hours of sleep for the night! You groan, as you pull yourself out from the comfort of your bed, scrubbing your palms over your face. As you pad into the bathroom, you scarcely want to look at yourself in the mirror, the bags beneath your eyes having grown progressively darker these past few weeks. Even your workmates had begun to notice how sleep deprived you were, you’re typically cheerful demeanour was being drowned out by your constant yawning, and continuous coffee consumption. You make quick work of getting ready for the day, throwing your hair up into a bun at the crown of your head, before applying a light coverage of makeup, just enough to try and hide the purple shadows of your eyes. It does little to help, and as the fluorescent light of your bathroom shines down on you, it occurs to you that you like just a tad corpse like. “Sexist dead girl there is…” You smirk, as you swipe a red lipstick across you lower lip.

Back in your bedroom, you rummage through your closet for a clean shirt and skirt, before making a mental note to do laundry when you get home. Hopping on the spot, you simultaneously kick on one of your brown heels, whilst also buttoning up the pale pink blouse you had chosen for the day. You swap legs for the other shoe, as you tuck your shirt into your cream coloured skirt, fastening the zipper, before adjusting the waist band so the decorative brown buttons sat at your hips. Finally, after a couple of minutes of searching, you retrieve your purse from under your bed, frowning at yourself for placing it in such an awkward place.

Your shoes click against the tiled floor of your kitchen as you contemplate making a cup of coffee before leaving for the day, glancing up at the clock hung high on the wall, you realise you don’t have the time, and dart towards the front door. You skid to a stop just before the front door swings shut, holding your hand out to keep the door open, as you use your free hand to rummage through your purse, ensuring your key was there. It wouldn’t be the first time you had allowed the door to shut, with your key on the complete opposite side of where you needed it to be, just last week you had allowed this to happen while you went grocery shopping. It had ended up being a hard lesson learned, not to mention expensive, once the locksmith had made his appearance.

Upon finding your key safely hidden at the bottom of your bag, you turn towards your neighbour, marching the short distance to his apartment. Stopping in front of John’s door, you tighten your grip on the envelope in your right hand. Perhaps half an hour or so ago, you had heard the door slam shut, but you had no way of knowing if both occupants had left, or just one. You contemplate knocking, to hand the letter to whoever may be inside, but quickly think better of it, and slip the think envelope between the door and the doorframe, either someone would find it when they arrived home, of it would fall to the floor in front of whoever opened the door from inside the apartment. With a spring in your step, you made your way downstairs, and out to the street walking towards the Doctor’s clinic where you worked. A smile tugging at your lips, as you imagined a peaceful night, with absolutely no drumming.

*****

A deep frown had settled over Roger’s brow, as he held the letter between fisted hands, sitting at the dining table inside Deaky’s apartment. “What the fuck is this?” He snarled, as he read, then reread the letter. He payed little mind to the front door opening, an only bothered to look up when he heard John’s voice break the silence which had filled the room.

“Looks like a letter Rog.” Deaky smirks, as he kicked his shoes off by the door, before folding his arms across his chest and looking at the fuming drummer. “What’s going on?”

Roger tore his gaze away from the neat script he had been staring at for a solid twenty minutes, focusing now on his flatmate. “Nothing, it’s nothing Deaky. Don’t worry about it.” He finally sighed out, folding the letter back into the envelope, and pushing away from the table. He could vaguely recall John mentioning someone who lived in the building by your name, but he hadn’t actually met you, which made the letter you had sent, cut just the little bit more. You had said you didn’t mind his drumming, yet you didn’t want to hear it? Why not! Roger though of himself as a bloody good drummer! Anyone should feel honoured to hear him play, especially for free! “Hey, do you know where Y/N lives?” He called over his shoulder, as he made is way towards the sofa, where he had left his music journal and pencil.

John raised a curious eyebrow, has he moved around the kitchen, setting about to put together some cheese on toast. “Uh yeah, she lives next door, to the right. Why?” It wasn’t like Roger to ask where a woman lived, typically he found that sort of information out for himself.

“No reason, just heard the name around while I was checking for mail today, and realised I didn’t know here is all.”

John narrowed his eyes into a glare, which went unnoticed by Roger, as he began to scribble away in his journal. Roger hadn’t collected the mail today, he had…. Deciding it best to not question Roger’s motives, John continued around the kitchen, the only noises to be heard throughout the apartment were those of the frying pan heating up on the stove, and Roger’s fast moving pencil over paper.

“Deaky, I’m just ducking out for a few minutes, I’ll be back yeah?” Roger didn’t wait for a reply, before darting out into the hall, the paper he had been writing on, folded into quarters. Turning right, just as John had said, Roger steps up to what assumes must be your door. Just as you had done mere hours earlier, he slips the folded paper between the door and door frame.

---

Roger endeavours to sleep with a woman from every country before his 30th birthday. However the woman he picks from France proves to be more of a challenge than originally expected. Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

The dingy patchwork sofa bounced precariously as Freddie flopped onto it, pressing himself firmly in between Roger and Brian who had originally been the sole occupants of the sofa. The knitted blanket that was draped over the back slides to the ground, as its resting place is disturbed by the jostling lead singer. Finally, Freddie settles himself, crossing one leg over his knee, and turning his attention entirely on Roger. “How’s your body count looking these days?”

Roger flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, before taking another drag, blowing the smoke up towards the sky. “Are we talking fucks, or murders?” He asks casually. John peers over at his band mates from his seat on the armchair, frowning somewhat at Roger’s response.

Brian smirks gently, shaking his head at the blonde’s antics, while Freddie lifts an eyebrow up at him. “For interests’ sake, let’s say both…” He finally decides, lighting a smoke between his lips, breathing in deeply.

“25, 67.” He states simply, stretching his legs out on the rug beneath the sofa, digging his toes into the soft material. This time, John’s expression changes from that of mild interest, to one of pure intrigue, a smirk forming over his lips.

“I can’t tell if that’s an unusually high number of murders or strangely low number of fucks.” Brian teases, reaching his arm around Freddie to punch Roger’s shoulder playfully.

Roger rolls his eyes, taking another long drag from his dwindling cigarette. “One of those numbers will be going up this weekend too.”

Freddie squints at the drummer, as he assesses which number they were currently discussing. Deciding to give the blonde the benefit of the doubt, he figured he was about raise his ‘fuck’ number, rather than ‘murder’ number. “And do tell dear Roger, who is the lucky lady to be?”

John lets out a loud chuckle, causing the three men to look over at him, all with equal questioning looks adorning their features. “Oh don’t look at me like that. Especially you Rog, I know damned well who you’re talking about!”

A pair of piercing blue eyes squint at John from across the room, the bassist grinning at the drummer. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, who are you talking about Deaky?”

John rolls his eyes, before begrudgingly pushing himself up and out of the armchair he had made himself comfortable in, strutting his way over to the back of the rehearsal studio. Pinned to the far wall is a world map, currently with pins stuck all across Europe, signifying where Queen would be next touring. “If my suspicions are correct, I believe Roger will be taking a bit of a drive across the border tonight.” John grins wickedly, gesturing with his index finger to France

---

Song fic - Jet Lag by Simple plan Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader (Could easily be changed to another Queen member if that what y’all would like to see!)

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Roger Taylor was currently on tour with the rest of Queen, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on the phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Roger’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. Just as you go to glance down at the time, the phone lets out a shrill ring. Once, twice, there isn’t a third. You dart your arm out quickly, and pick up the receiver, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Roger’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

“What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a rotund tortoiseshell cat leaps onto the end of the bed, purring loudly as she rubbed up against your toes. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Misty just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Roger’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself. Misty had been a rather unexpected addition to your household. One of Freddie’s cats had escaped his home one afternoon and had gone missing for an entire night. She returned the next day, and soon after, Freddie found himself a grandfather, and having to re-home five kittens. Never one to turn a stray away, you had leapt at the chance of adopting the kitten.

---

John Deacon forgets the bass line to Under Pressure, but who is the cause of his forgetfulness? Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Miami found himself with four identical faces of shock staring at him as he stood in the recording studio, none of the band members were blinking, he wasn’t even entirely sure they were breathing either to be honest.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that darling.” Freddie was the first to break the silence, lifting a quizzical eyebrow at the manager before him.

Miami shook his head, an exasperated huff escaping his lips. “I said, David Bowie wants to record with you lot, he’ll be dropping by the studio in a week with some suggestions of his own, and I think it would be a good idea if you lot try to come up with something too.” He was met with more staring, and frankly it was becoming rather off putting. “Would you rather I call him back and say you don’t want to record with him?”

“No!” The four men shouted at once, no longer the statues they had been before.

“What we mean is, we would hate for you to disturb Mr Bowie, and would love to record with him.” John pipes up, ever the diplomat.

Brian nods along in agreement, while Roger and Freddie quickly begin discussing what it would be like to meet David. “We’ll come up some lyrics and tunes to show him.” Brian offers, grinning at their manager. It does little to reassure Miami, though all he can do is hope they don’t show up empty handed when Bowie arrives.

“I could do a massive drum solo halfway through the song.” Roger declares, waving his arms around like a crazed man. It was obvious to John that Roger was unimpressed with the album they were currently recording, though he couldn’t help but think that one drum solo wasn’t quite enough to get him to stop bitching about the other songs. “Or a bongo solo! Everyone likes bongo’s, right?”

“Darling, I refuse to have bongos on this song.” Freddie interjects, and John can’t help but grin as Roger’s face falls, he looks like a sulking child, which is more or less what he currently is.

“How do you know Bowie doesn’t like bongos?”

“Roger, shut up about the bongos.” John groans, as he turns on his heel to collect his bass where he had left it near one of the amps. It was one thing to listen to Roger complain, it was another to listen to him complain while not doing anything productive. John’s fingers slide over the strings of his bass, plucking a few chords at random as he closes his eyes, trying to picture a rhythm of some sort. There had been a few chords playing around in his head lately, though he hadn’t gotten the chance to play them as of yet.

‘Dun dun dun dadada dun’ his bass echoes the notes, as he plays them on repeat, bobbing his head along to the jazzy beat. The tune seemed to bleed into his soul as he played, and he soon found himself lost in the music. It was a simple rhythm, only a few chords, but he felt it had potential.

“That’s really good Deaky.” Brian grins, coming over to stand beside him, watching John’s fingers play across the strings. Freddie joins soon after, holding one of Roger’s drumsticks in his left hand. A smile plays across his lips, hidden behind his bushy moustache.

“It certainly has potential.” He offers, as he snaps his fingers on the second and fourth beat. Brian does the same, and soon Roger is joining in on his kick drum. “Next step, come up with a lyric.” Freddie chuckles, as John places his bass back down, a smug smile on his lips.

“Wait, you guys think this is actually decent?” He asks stunned, his eyebrows creasing together, waiting for someone to start laughing, and to state it was all just a joke.

“Really John, if we can get the lyrics down, then I want to show this to Bowie.” Freddie grins broadly, as he returns his stolen drumstick to its rightful owner.

“I’m with Fred, just imagine having David, and Freddie’s voices singing along with that bass line, it’ll be an instant hit!” Brian supplies with an equally large smile. John takes a moment to take in what his bandmates were telling him, they truly liked what he had come up with, even if it was rather simple.

“I have one condition.” He declares, folding his arms across his chest. “And it isn’t negotiable.” All eyes are on him again, awaiting his next words in anticipation. “There will be absolutely no bongos on this song!”

“Fuck you Deacon!” Roger cries in outrage, throwing his drumstick with acute precision towards John’s head. Luckily, John knew what to expect from Roger these days, and easily stepped out of his firing line.

“If we agree with John, do we run the risk of having the drums thrown at us?” Brian chuckles quietly to Freddie, who instantly looks fearfully towards the drum kit.

“How about we go get some lunch?” Freddie sings out, waltzing his way towards the doors to the studio. Roger mutters under his breath as he follows him out, John can’t quite hear what he’s saying, though he’s sure it’s about bongos. Brian leaves next, and John takes up the rear. Freddie leads the group for a few minutes, in search of somewhere for lunch, they pass by their go to pub, with Freddie insisting he knew of somewhere far better and that it was just around the corner.

*********

Just around the corner turned out to mean a twenty-minute walk, which had Roger grumbling the entire way.

“Just turn back if you’re going to complain the whole time.” Brian groans, which only increases Roger’s complaining. It was starting to grate on John’s nerves, he often forgot just how petulant the man could be.

“I’m gonna head-“ He began, before being interrupted by Freddie’s loud declaration of them having arrived at their destination.

“Go on, get in you’ll love this place!” Freddie grins, as he ushers the three others inside. The entire front wall of the café is windows, allowing the midday sun to stream in, warming everyone up on the cold winter’s day. Wooden chairs, with patchwork cushions sit nestled among wooden tables, each with a different mosaic design on top. The floor is covered in mismatched rugs, some more faded than others, but overall giving the café a warm and inviting feel. A young woman, with flaming red ringlets smiles brightly at the group, picking up four leather bound menus.

“Good afternoon! Will you be dining with us today?” She asks sweetly, her eyes falling on Roger almost instantly. “Roger Taylor, I don’t know if I should let you in. Y/N wouldn’t want you here.”

Roger has the decency to blush at her words, ducking his head low, allowing his hair to flop over his forehead. “Is Y/N here today?”

The hostess frowns, placing a hand on her hip. “Of course she’s here! She owns the bloody place!”

Roger gulps, shuffling his feet on the floor awkwardly. “We can go somewhere else, it’s not a problem.” John suggests, shrugging his shoulders slightly. They were all hungry, but there were other places to eat. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what Roger had done to the owner, knowing him, probably a one-night stand or something of the likes.

The hostess frowns once more, before sighing. “Follow me, I’ll tell Y/N that you’re here Roger.” She instructs as she leads them all to a four-seater table, placing the menus down in the centre before walking to the bar. Roger buries his head in one of the menus, ignoring the outside world as best he can. The few patrons of the café stare and whisper, pointing to the band. Nothing they weren’t used to at this stage of fame, though they could go without it some days, especially when trying to get a bite to eat.

John, Brian and Freddie each take a quick glance at their menus, before looking between one another, all of them with the same question running through their minds. “Roger Darling, what did you do to the owner of this fine establishment?” Freddie finally asks.

He looks up from his menu, biting his lower lip nervously, if it weren’t for the fact there was a strict no smoking sign on the entrance, John was sure Roger would be rolling a cigarette instead. “Oh, you know. She’s just another one of my college conquests is all.”

“Conquest my ass! You can shove that excuse up your ass Taylor.” You grumble, as you stand beside the table, glaring solely at the blonde man before you. You turn your attention to the other men at the table, you weren’t ignorant, you knew who they were, you had kept track of what Roger was up to over the years, it was hard not to, given how much publicity Queen got. “I knew this idiot in college, while he was studying to be a dentist still. I complained to him I had a toothache once, so he decided to punch me square in the jaw, in an effort to remove the painful tooth. He took out one of my bloody molars, which was great expect for the fact that it was a canine that hurt!” You grumble, taking out a notepad and pen to take their orders. “Then, he runs off with you lot, and never returns, leaving me with the dental bill!”

Roger has his head resting against the table now, Freddie and Brain are laughing, and John isn’t sure whether to kick Roger for his idiocy or to comfort the woman. He had spent the time she was telling her tale, to study her. She was beautiful, a quiet subdued sort of beauty, that really shone through when she was passionate about something, just as she was now. “I told you I was drunk at the time, you said it was fine for me to take a look at your mouth!” Roger protested loudly.

“There is a difference between taking a look at my mouth, and punching me!” You cry out, before lowering your voice, not wanting to cause a scene in front of your patrons. You take a deep breath in, before plastering a smile on your lips, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Welcome to The Hideout, what can I get you today?”

John grinned up at you, finding your ability to jump between casual and professional rather impressive. You caught his eye and winked, as you tapped your pen against your notepad, awaiting the band’s orders.

Freddie is the first to speak, smiling up at you. “Could we get a large margarita pizza to share please darling? And, four pints of whatever you have on tap please?”

You raise an eyebrow at Roger, who was attempting to make a fort out of the menus on the table. “I’ll get you three beers. I don’t trust blondie over here to drink.” You smirk, before it turns into a smile directed at John.

“Hey! Why don’t I get to drink!”

Brian chuckles quietly, before gesturing to the menu fort. “It may have something to do with your inability to behave like an adult.” He shrugs, curly hair bouncing over his shoulders as he does so.

---

For everything else that I’ve written, feel fee to check out my MASTERLIST You’ll find a heap of Queen, BohRhap, 6 Underground, Labyrinth and Night at the museum!

#roger taylor fanfic #joe mazzello fanfic #john deacon fanfic #roger taylor #joe mazzello #John Deacon #ben hardy #Brian May #freddie mercury #fanfiction #queen band fanfiction #soulmate fanfic #fanfic ideas #fan fiction suggestions

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concealeddarkness13 · 4 years

Text

A New Dawn Part 15

In which Kai meets Rex and eats everything. Tagging: @ratracechronicler and @merigreenleaf!

Intro

Kai: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, Part 14

Rat: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

I fell asleep after we explored the forest, and I barely remembered how we got into the hotel room. So, I was a little confused when I woke up in the morning to the dingy hotel room.

I yawned and crouched on the window sill, staring out at the patchwork city in front of me. Kids were already outside playing some kind of game. They were yelling and smiling, and anyone else walking on the streets were talking loudly to each other and smiling as well. It was loud and already starting to get crowded. It felt more like home.

Rat walked up to me. “Janky, ain’t it?”

There were no words to describe it. “It’s…unique.”

“Rule numero uno in San Angeles: don’t be kind to it. This place’ll kick you in the teeth. Carry an attitude at all times, and it’ll leave you be.” I frowned at her. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. She continued as she gathered her things. “The coperatives won’t bother us, I mean protect us here. They’re either the shoot-first, ask-questions-later kind or they’re just a part of the business around here, paid to keep the first kind in check and let petty crooks off easy. The law’s for rich people. You’re more likely to get busted for tax fraud than pickpocketing, to be honest. So, if we avoid that slim, hateful silver sliver of uptown, we should be fine as foxes. Oh, and don’t expect to understand what anyone’s saying.”

Eli winced, and I looked over at him. “Are they all as bad as Rex?”

Rat laughed. “Worse. So much worse.”

Now that I was even closer to all the different buildings, I came to one conclusion. This city was a patchwork city. Everything seemed to be haphazardly placed, and there was graffiti on every building. There were still a lot of machines, but I could at least see through them.

And everyone was acting normally. A lot of them didn’t have a whole machine in their head. It was nice.

Rat explained that she was searching for something called a hoopla tart, which she described as a pastry with any kind of filling. I didn’t really know what to look for, so I let her lead the way.

She didn’t seem to know where they were either. She pulled us into what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse, but there actually were tons of stalls with people selling stuff. I just stared. So many different things they were selling! I shoved my hands in my pockets to remind myself to not try to steal anything.

“Uh. San Angeles takes the black market a little literally, and just throws its illegitimate businesses around public places to sell random things,” Rat said. “Especially fake random things.”

One of the sellers glared over at us after the last thing Rat said. “Oi, huzz off, ya rascy nosebleed! Eat it! Go on! I’ll chick yer wan!”

“That’s not good.” Rat grabbed both of our hands and ran off. When we were far away from that building, she stopped, and Eli doubled over as he caught his breath.

“You weren’t kidding.”

I frowned. “I think I understood two of those words.” It was worse than Tim calling someone fuzzy.

Rat chuckled. “Welcome to San-juzz. The lingo’s strictly for professionals, kids. Don’t try it at home. There!” She pointed out a food stand and pulled us over to it.

The seller beamed at us. “G’mornin’, g’mornin’! Don’t be coy, like! You mates lookin’ for breakfast, amiright?”

Rat grinned back. “You got me! Look at all your flavors!”

“Thiry-one, ye! A lucky number! Try ‘em all!”

I stared at the different flavors. How could I even decide? Maybe I would have to try them all… But then Rat cut in, patting her stomach. “I don’t have that kinda room. C’mon guys, pick some flavors. They’re filling. I wouldn’t get more than two, maybe three if you’re ambitious.”

I made a face at her but then turned back to the flavors. Since she was the one who would have to pay for my food, I’d stick with two. I chose both sweet flavors, and after I was done eating them, I knew I could have at least eaten one more.

Rat glanced at her beacon, and she grinned. “Rex messaged me his address. Let’s go!” Eli was still trying to finish up his tarts, so when Rat grabbed his hand, he shoved the rest into his mouth. She grabbed my hand too and ran off with us in tow.

We stopped in front of…a busy marketplace. Rat glared at the beacon and hit some buttons, which just made it protest. She then hit some more buttons and held it up to her ear.

A loud voice came from the other end. “What? ‘m playin’ games!”

“Rex! You gave us the wrong address!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Nah…Wait…” It was quiet for a little bit. “Oh. I’ll send you the real one.” He hung up, and there was a beep on the beacon a few minutes later.

Rat nodded. “All right. Let’s get going.”

And we were standing in front of the beginning of the rich part of the city. Rat shook her head. “This is not right either.” She pulled out her beacon again.

“WHAT? You made me lose!”

“Unless you got a lot of money you didn’t tell us about, you sent us the wrong address. Again.”

“Maybe your beacon’s just broken.”

Rat rolled her eyes. “C’mon. The address clearly looks like a fancy person’s address. You got it wrong. Can you just tell me what the address is so I can put it in myself?”

“Fine.” He said the address, and Rat put it in.

She grinned at us. “This time it’s right. I’m sure!” She grabbed our hands and ran with us again until we got to a nice enough house. Rat grinned at us and walked up to the door. Eli knocked, however, and the door was opened by an older man. By Rat and Eli’s expressions, they didn’t recognize him.

He stared down at us. “Who are you?”

I looked away from his gaze, and Rat did the same. Eli was the one to speak up. “My name is Eli and this is Rat and Kai. We’re friends of Rex’s. Is he here?”

He eyed us for a little bit longer, but he moved over to let us in. “I’m Rex’s da. Nice to meet you.” He smiled a little. “I’ll go get Rex.” He started walking up the stairs. “Oi! Rex! Friends’re here!”

“Be down soon!”

“He’ll be right down.” Rex’s da (whatever that meant; maybe dad?) gestured for us to come in. “C’mon in. Birds’ll bite. You can park ya treads there.” He gestured at some diamond-shaped nooks to put shoes. I nodded and took my shoes off as Rat grinned.

“You have a shoe condo!”

Rex’s da laughed, and a woman leaned around the corner. “That the mates, Dede?” she whispered.

“Ya. Shove off, love—you’re blockin’ the way of ‘em.”

She grinned, and her eyes lingered on Eli. “Ooooh, I bet I know which one’s Eli.” Rat shuffled closer to him.

“Oi! That one’s spoken for, if I’m not mistaken, and it’s a rare thing I am.” The voice came from the room to the left.

Rat seemed to recognize the voice, since she jumped. “Gy—Layla!”

Rat and Eli shuffled over to look into the room, but I just clasped my hands behind my back and stayed where I was. I had no idea what was going on, and I would just be in the way.

Eli spoke up. “You’re alive.”

But still. I wanted to be close to them. I didn’t want to just not learn anything about what was going on. So, I shuffled after them.

The woman who had spoken was lounging on a couch, looking over the top of the book she was holding. “You doubted me? Shame. And—” Her eyes landed on me, and she jumped up. “Who’s this one?”

I shrunk down under her stare. It was like she could tell exactly who and what I was just by looking at me. Even Rat wasn’t answering yet.

Rex’s da scoffed. “I thought you kenned everything.” Layla, as Rat called her, sneered at him, but he just sneered back. At least her attention was off me.

And before she could turn her attention back to me, a door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and someone fell down the stairs.

Eli helped steady him (maybe he was Rex?), and the guy glared at his family. “Y’all are embarrassing me!”

The woman that wasn’t Layla shook her head. “We ain’t even done nothing!”

Rex’s da smiled. “Anyone want to eat first, or should we leave you tots alone?”

My stomach decided to growl as the smell of the food reached me again. (Don’t ask me how I’m still hungry after eating those tarts). “Whatever’s cooking smells good.” The adults smiled at me, so I must have said the right thing.

Rex gestured for us to follow him. “They’ll be awhile—huzzin’ druvees take five hours to cook, boy howdy. C’mon, c’mon! Ignore ‘em—” He waved a dismissive hand at the others, and Rex’s da and the woman who wasn’t Layla left the room, and Layla went back to her book. Rex started walking up the stairs. “I got the penthouse suite all ready for ya. Boy…” He looked back at us, especially Rat and Eli, as he fought a smile and shook his head. “It’s good t’see you chumps. C’mon!”

He showed us around his rooms with excited but nervous words. He had a game room with some cool games, even though I had never heard of them. There were beanbags everywhere, even in his bedroom, and there was no bed. He must sleep in a beanbag instead.

The ceiling was all slanted upstairs, so Eli and Rex (aka: the tall ones) had to slouch a little in some areas. It seemed really cozy and comfortable here, though.

After he showed us around upstairs, he brought us back to the game room and gestured for us to sit as he flopped on one of the beanbags. His eyes landed on me, and he laughed a little. “Oh yeah. I forgot to ask who your other friend was.”

Rat cut in before I could say anything. “This is Kai! We picked her up around Zenith. She’s a little confused, so we decided to show her around Tersatellus.”

I frowned when she didn’t mention that I was an alien like she did with the others. But she probably had a good reason for that.

He smiled crookedly at me. “Nice to meet ya! You probably already know, but my tag’s Rex, and I met Rat and Eli while we were trying not to die.”

Before I could ask for any more details about that, maybe some embarrassing stories of Rat and Eli, he turned to the TV and the game console hooked up to it. “Ya wanna play some? I have enough controllers for all four of us.”

Rex tried to explain the game, but I was still confused when we started playing. But still, I accidented (yes, that’s a word now) my way into winning anyway.

Rex looked over at me with a frown, and Rat laughed. “Beginner’s luck! She had the same luck when we played prison.”

He frowned deeper. “She hasn’t played that either?” His eyes grew thoughtful, and Rat scrambled to back-track.

“Aw, it’s nothing! She’s just lost her memory. She probably did play it when she was younger. She just doesn’t remember!”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to lie t’me. Kai’s an alien, ain’t she?”

Rat and Eli both froze, and I frowned. Rex seemed calm about it. So, I spoke up. “Yeah. I’m not from this planet. That’s why I don’t know anything about Tersatellus.”

Rat found her voice, and she actually sounded calm. “Yeah, don’t you know? It’s a thing now. We get refugees from other planets.”

He laughed. “Sounds about right. I’ll probably have questions later, but right now, I’ve gotta crush you at my favorite game!”

And my beginner’s luck did go away. I lost every single game we played after that. Finally, Rex’s da yelled up the stairs that food was ready.

The food looked amazing. Once everyone started eating, I just grabbed everything and didn’t pay attention to anything else. At least not until Layla nudged me. She leaned in close to whisper. “Are you actually from this planet?” I jumped and shook my head, and she grinned and spoke louder. “I knew it! Rex, she’s not leaving until I drill her for information on her planet and how she got here!”

Rex groaned. “Auntie! You’ve gotta be subtle about it! You’ll embarrass me again.”

I just shrugged. “I’ll answer what I can, but I can’t make any promises.”

I kept eating as Layla asked questions, but it was all a blur. There were just so many questions. When we finished, Rat shook her head at me, and I frowned back.

She sighed. “You must have a black hole for a stomach. I ate everything I could before I would burst, and you still ate more.”

I glanced down at my plate. “Was this supposed to be a contest?”

She grinned and started laughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh back. Rat ran over to Rex and bugged him until he let us stay at his house, and we went back up to his area to settle in.

I kept eyeing the console where we had played the game. It had been really fun to play the game, and I wanted to have the opportunity to try it again. Maybe I could tomorrow…

I smiled over at Rat and Eli. They needed to have their own time anyway. “How about you two go over to that forest tomorrow? I can hang with Rex and see more of San Angeles. Anyway, you two deserve a romantic date.”

Eli instantly blushed a deep red, and Rat spluttered. I frowned as Rat started coughing. She shook her head. “Good thing Rex is not in this room. We wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you were a couple?”

Eli flushed a deeper red, if that was possible, and Rat even blushed. “Aw. What are you talking about? We’re just good…friends.” She looked over at Eli. “Are we a couple?”

He shook his head, his eyes widening in panic. “Don’t look at me. I’ve only been alive for a few weeks.”

Rat sighed. “Fine. We might or might not be a couple. But don’t just say that without preparing us first.” I nodded when she paused. “But that does sound like a good idea. Rex will probably bombard you with questions, but you’ll be safe with him.”

#writeblr #A New Dawn

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overwatchworks · 5 years

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To Break Steel and Stone:

Chapter 2

"Listen, kid. Everyone deserves a second chance, because you never know how much a person can change. Sometimes it's for the better, and giving them that chance can make it all worth it. People like you are misunderstood; good people with good hearts that have been twisted to do some bad things. If you give them another chance, you can help put them on the right path, you can make a good person a great one, or change a bad man into a better one.”

Genji took Hanzo to go shower after his brother requested it, holding a new uniform and looking around curiously as Genji led him to back to his room. Hanzo's leg had been healed more since he had been here, and he stubbornly refused Genji's help, insisting he could walk just fine. He had a limp, but other than that, Genji thought he was fine. Well, as fine as he could be.

They made it to the room before either of them decided to speak, Jesse nowhere to be seen.

"So. You doing okay...?" Genji asked first, getting a sideways glance from Hanzo.

"Depends on your version of 'okay'. I feel fine, if that's what you're worried about."

"I mean...That's good, but what about...You know," Genji rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then sighed.

"Your mental state? You good there too...?"

"I am perfectly stable!" Hanzo shouted, tensing up and making Genji jump a bit. Hanzo closed his eyes, taking a breath and licking his lips before giving Genji a strained smile.

"I know that didn't...Sound too convincing, but please...Just trust me. I'm alright."

Genji nodded slowly, not at all convinced, and he went to grab some towels while Hanzo started unbuttoning his bloodied dress shirt.

"Okay, well, if you need..." Genji trailed off, eyes drawn to Hanzo's back as he dropped the towels, brows furrowing.

Large pink and red scars criss-crossed over the broad expanse of pale skin, not new, but certainly not there when Genji had last seen him, muscles rippling and making some stick out more vividly. Hanzo turned slightly as he tossed his shirt to the side, Genji catching a glimpse of what looked to be a brand, the white discolouration sticking out against Hanzo's darker skin tone.

Hanzo then toed off his shoes and socks, balance as impeccable as ever, and he turned to Genji fully, his chest bruising from what must have been the force the agents had been using to get information.

"Um...Do you have a brush I can use?"

Genji snapped his eyes back up, blinking and going over to the sink area.

"Y-yeah...Here."

Genji pulled a hairbrush out of the cabinet and thought for a moment.

"Lemme brush it, you've gotta be hurting."

Hanzo hummed and sat down, not quite denying it, and Genji moved behind him, running the brush through his long raven locks as gently as he could. For some reason, Genji couldn’t bring himself to leave Hanzo just yet. He felt like he was a little kid again, constantly looking for attention from his big brother.

"You must be wondering about the scars. There's more. You may as well know if you're going to find out anyways..." Hanzo murmured resignedly after a moment, and Genji grunted, hand tightening over the handle of the brush.

"Did those bastards do that to you?"

Hanzo didn't answer, instead he leaned down to roll the cuff of his pants up, and Genji's eyes widened as more scars were revealed, lines of them wrapping around Hanzo's ankles and up his calf.

"Are those...Hanzo, are those from goddamn chains...?"

"They became afraid, knew I wasn't stable, knew they would be next. I killed my own father, then started on them. I...I was unstable. So, this was how they 'fixed' me." Hanzo whispered, and Genji's anger rose again.

"You mean they fucking chained you up and tortured you until they needed you?!"

"Haven't they always?" Hanzo murmured, and Genji glowered, hands clenching so tight it hurt.

"Those fucking monsters..."

Hanzo turned slightly, his hand going down to press lightly on Genji's knee, snapping the younger Shimada's gaze back up.

"Genji. It's alright, I'm okay now."

"It's not fucking alright, Hanzo, and you know it! What else did they do to you? How long have they been hurting you like this? How much did you have to go through? If I had just come sooner, maybe I could have stopped some of it, god if I had just behaved from the beginning, maybe stayed with you longer, made things easier on you--"

Hanzo cut Genji off by pulling him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly and tugging him close.

"Genji, I don't blame you for any of this. You never did anything wrong. It was not a bad thing for you to seek freedom. And they made you pay for it, almost with your life. It was never your fault, any of this, and it's all okay now. You came back and took me with you." Hanzo assured quietly, and Genji hugged him back, careful of his bruised ribs.

"Okay...Okay, if you say so...But tell me if you ever need anything, alright? Jesse and I will do whatever we can to help, and you won't ever have to go through something like that again. Blackwatch will keep you safe, give you a home of sorts, don't worry. You're safe now."

Hanzo pulled back, this time giving him a real smile, and then he shoved Genji's shoulder lightly.

"I trust you. Now, let me take a shower, I feel disgusting."

Genji grinned and gave a little two fingered salute, walking out of the bathroom and hearing the water turn on in a soothing, steady hum. He waited on the bed, swaying back and forth after turning on the holoscreen, not really watching it but liking the background noise it provided.

Hanzo finished up pretty quickly, coming out of the steaming bathroom wearing the new clothes he had been issued, hair back up and looking more lively now that he wasn't caked in blood.

"Hey, wait a minute, you've got some busted ribs and a few gunshot wounds to take care of, and honestly, I'm sure you could use a full tube of ointment with those cuts." Genji quipped, sitting a curious Hanzo down on the bed and going back into the bathroom to grab the med kit.

“I was checked out by the doctors here before they let me go.” Hanzo called, Genji huffing.

“Okay, but you still have to dress your wounds properly, especially after a shower.”

He came back and pulled out some medical tape, wrapping up Hanzo's hand and leg, then going on to bind his ribs as gently as possible. Genji then put down a biotic field, tending to the bigger cuts on Hanzo's face that would need a bit more help to heal than just a biotic field.

"Feels weird, me being the one to patch you up this time." Genji hummed with a fond smile.

He remembered the times where he would come back home after a rather eventful evening at the bar, Hanzo griping at him for getting into another fight while he bandaged his hands up, or when he was younger still, getting too excited about playing or training and end up with cuts and bruises everywhere. Hanzo had always taken care of him.

"It's nice, having someone to do the work for you. You certainly wrapped my ribs up better than I could have on my own." Hanzo commented, his own smile playing on his lips.

They both turned at the sound of the door opening, and Jesse stopped short when he noticed the two staring at him, shifting nervously as his eyes fell on Hanzo.

"Oh, uh...Howdy. You need me to come back later, or...?"

Genji grinned, shaking his head and motioning Jesse over.

"No no no, come here. Perfect timing, I just finished fixing him up. Jesse, this is Hanzo. Hanzo, Jesse." Genji introduced, watching Hanzo's face intently for a reaction. Jesse smiled and held a hand out, Hanzo regarding it coolly for a moment before shaking with a small grin.

"It's about time I met you, Mr. McCree. Genji would talk nonstop about you all the time."

"Aw, shucks...Call me Jesse, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance too. I've heard my fair share 'bout you too, Hanzo. Er--Is it alright if I...?"

Hanzo huffed a laugh and leaned back on the bed, waving a hand dismissively.

"Yes that's fine, relax. I'm not nearly as scary as you think, trust me."

Genji shook his head at Jesse, mouthing 'He's lying, he's terrifying' with an encouraging smile and nod as the cowboy's eyes darted back to Hanzo anxiously. The older Shimada shoved his foot against Genji's head lightly, catching his brother's not so subtle gestures.

"Ow!"

"Oh shut up, I am not."

"You are too! But don't worry, Jesse, he doesn't bite. Well, occasionally."

"Seriously? I was five when that happened!"

"And yet you still know exactly what I'm talking about. I'll never let you live that down, brother."

"Tch, yeah, it's been, what, seventeen years?"

"Yuuuup. And we are still going."

Jesse watched the exchange, amusement dancing in his eyes, and he seemed to relax, sitting on the foot of the bed.

"Gen, I don't think he's gonna bite me."

"Thank you."

"Don't blame me if he does then!"

Jesse chuckled and looked back to Hanzo, eyes drifting to the cuts and now fading bruises on his cheeks.

"Sorry about the way they treated you...And I’m sorry they shot you, Blackwatch is kind of a...Shoot first ask questions later ops, you know...?"

Hanzo smiled amiably, huffing another laugh.

"Well, they certainly live up to that motto. It's okay though, I've had worse, and they were just following orders. To be fair, I was about to try and fight you, so..."

"With just that bow?" Jesse questioned, a brow raising septically.

"Well, I would have had help, but yes, essentially with just the bow." Hanzo nodded, a smug look crossing his face that made Genji roll his eyes.

"Don't be a show off, Han."

Jesse raised both brows, looking between the two.

"Wait, you mean he could seriously have taken out all of us, all of us, with our guns and our training, with just his bow?"

Hanzo shrugged, and Genji bobbed his head.

"I told you he was terrifying."

"Huh...Welp, I'll take your word for it. You’ll need that kind of skill here. Anyways, Hanzo, welcome to Blackwatch. Hope we didn't make too bad of a first impression on you."

Hanzo shook his head.

"No, you were fine. And thank you."

The end of the sentence was punctured by a tiny yawn, and Genji smirked as Hanzo tried to cover it up.

"Come on, you need some sleep."

Hanzo didn't argue, just laid back and rolled himself up in a blanket, snuggling up into the pillows. Genji went to his own bed and waited for Jesse to cuddle up next to him, Hanzo's deep and steady breathing filling the room.

"He still doesn’t seem that scary to me...Reminds me of a kitten, if I'm bein' completely honest." Jesse whispered, and Genji had to slap a hand to his mouth to keep the snort from escaping.

"Oh, that's a good one! I dare you to say that to his face, see what happens." Genji hummed back, leaning his head into the crook of Jesse's neck. Jesse grumbled something about not wanting to test his luck, and Genji snickered, eyes drifting to Hanzo's sleeping form.

"They put him through some seriously messed up shit...We have to take that place apart, get rid of it for good." Genji murmured as Jesse rested his cheek on top of Genji's head.

"We will, darlin'. Y'all won't ever have to be bothered by them again when we're through with 'em."

Genji let his eyes drift shut, finding comfort in the warmth of Jesse's side.

"Yeah. I'll make sure of that."

~*~*~*~

Hanzo had to go to the medical bay for an examination, mandatory for all agents, especially the new ones. The doctor was nice enough, not asking many questions and when she did, they were respectful. She made quick work of the examination and sent him on his way with a 'welcome to Blackwatch, Agent Shimada' and a smile.

After the visit to the med bay, Hanzo decided to wander the building, try and figure out his surroundings a bit more. He ended up stopping at a practice range, observing the various agents there already, then looking at the array of weapons they had out for practice.

He was trained in all kinds of weapons, including firearms, but he had never been fond of guns. They were too loud for his tastes, too simple, too easy to master, lacked any real challenge for him. That's why he had taken up archery and the katana instead. That was difficult; one had to be precise, patient, and it something that would take years to master, perhaps something that never could be mastered.

His eyes went past the guns, and he lost interest, hands itching to hold his bow again, feel the familiar weight of it, the sheer power it held in the hands of someone capable of making it into a weapon. Hanzo's dragons shifted beneath the skin of his tattoo, feeling their master's longing and feeding into it. He shook his head and left the practice range, intent on going back to his room, maybe talk to Genji some more.

He was stopped by the commander of Blackwatch, Gabriel Reyes, and Hanzo appraised him coolly.

"Ah, Agent Shimada two-point-oh, just who I was looking for." Reyes hummed happily, patting a hand to Hanzo's shoulder. Hanzo internally grimaced at the name, knowing Genji would probably love it.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I need to evaluate your skills before you can be sent on missions. I know you're good, plenty good, but I need this on file, it's the 'official' thing to do. And I'm all about being official and pleasing the higher ups. When it counts."

Hanzo frowned at the commander's casual behaviour. Were all people in power actually this relaxed, or was it just this man?

"Alright. Although, you do not have the weapons I am most skilled in wielding. I can perform quite well with whatever you give me, but my best will be achieved a bow or sword." Hanzo informed him politely, training in business deals kicking in and making him take a formal tone.

Reyes didn't say anything, just motioned for Hanzo to follow him, and he did. They went to a private practice range, and Hanzo's eyes widened when he saw Stormbow ready and waiting for him.

"We kept it when we took you back from Hanamura. Figured you would work best with a weapon you knew." Reyes explained as Hanzo trailed his fingers over the familiar cool and nicked wood of his bow.

"So, it was your plan to recruit me all along." Hanzo posed the question as a statement, and Reyes nodded.

"You Shimadas are valuable. You've got years and years of training up your sleeve, as well as a few surprises," The commander looked pointedly to Hanzo's tattoo at that.

"And you're determined, stubborn and loyal. All things we can use on Blackwatch. You two are good kids, you deserved a chance. You were stuck in a place and forced into a situation that wasn't fair, something that would only prove problematic for us in the future, too. So, I turned a problem into an asset, something I am rather talented in doing." Reyes said, tone smug and a grin pulling on his lips.

Hanzo's brows furrowed as he voiced his confusion.

"Why? Why give us a chance? Why are you treating me like this? I tried to kill you, would have, too, without a second thought."

“You were put under more pressure than anyone could handle and had inhuman expectations constantly hanging over your head. Anyone would either break or be turned into someone different because of what you've been put through. And I know what you've been put through. We all have scars, kid, some worse than others, most of them probably can't be seen. But we all feel them, and we all understand one another better because of them.”

“I'm trying to earn your trust here, Shimada. You need to have it to work on a team like mine, you have to be dependable, someone we can rely on, and we will do the same for you in turn. You aren't alone anymore, not here. We've got your back, and I'd like the reassurance that you have ours, too. Because I know you're a good man, Hanzo, and I want to help you be a great one."

Hanzo stared at the commander, awe dancing behind his eyes before he schooled himself and nodded curtly.

"You can trust me, Commander. I...Thank you. For giving me a chance. It's more than I have ever gotten before." Hanzo uttered softly, and Reyes smiled, ruffling his hair fondly.

"Yeah. Now, let's see what you can do, princess."

Hanzo grimaced at the nickname, but couldn't help the quirk of his lips at how nice it was to relax a bit around people.

Thirty minutes of practice later--Reyes deeming it more than enough after watching Hanzo hit bullseyes from any distance or area he was put at with ease--Hanzo was going back to his room for some rest.

He stopped at Genji's room, thinking for a moment before knocking hesitantly. It was opened immediately with a big grin from his little brother, who was wearing an overlarge hoodie.

"Hey, Hanzo! Just the man we were talking about!" He cheered, and Hanzo raised a brow.

"We...?"

Jesse poked his head out from behind a wall, giving Hanzo a friendly wave.

"I see. Mind me asking why you were talking about me?"

"Oh, Jesse was just saying that he--"

Genji was interrupted by said man clearing his throat loudly, scrambling up from the bed and shoving Genji out of the way of the door lightly.

"Nothin', I wasn't sayin' nothin'. You wanna come in?" Jesse asked, gesturing, and Hanzo took up the offer with a skeptical look at the cowboy. Genji was pouting further in the hallway, synthetic lip poking out in a familiar expression.

Hanzo didn't mind the changes, he knew they had saved his little brother's life, but they caused odd, tiny differences in expressions that always managed to catch his eye. He tried not to stare too much, but it seemed Genji was used to it, merely shrugging when he glanced at Hanzo and motioning for him to sit on the unused bed.

"Is there anything you need, Anija?" Genji asked, and Hanzo sat back with a sigh.

"Not exactly...I just finished the testing and examinations for becoming an agent. I guess it just seems surreal, to be out of there and in Overwatch, of all places..." Hanzo mumbled, not sure why he was suddenly feeling talkative.

Perhaps it was a good thing, because Genji smiled and sat next to him, placing a hand on his back comfortingly.

"Feeling just a bit out of your element, huh? It gets better with time, don't worry. And you've only been here a week."

"I suppose...Do you really think we can bring down the empire...?" Hanzo asked quietly, and Genji's brows furrowed.

"What do you mean? Of course I do, we have to."

"But...Do you think I will be, I don't know, capable of doing such a thing? They may twist me into changing my mind, they always had more control over me, and I just...I don't want to become a hindrance to a process we have both been working for, that we've both suffered for..." Hanzo murmured, finally voicing his concerns. Genji was quiet for a moment, tilting his head in that way of his that indicated he was thinking.

"Hanzo, the fact that you have already suffered for it means that you won't be a hindrance to it. Especially not now, since you have all of us to back you up on it, keep you strong, you won't be swayed by them again. And Hanzo, I think you truly just have to learn that you don't have to do everything alone anymore. We're here too, and we want to help."

Hanzo pursed his lips, feeling Genji's fingertips pressing his back lightly through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he nodded. That was the second time he had been told that today, best he remember it.

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to just come in here and just..."

"Anija, I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to talk with me. You're welcome here anytime, for anything, okay?"

Jesse came and sat down on Hanzo's other side with a charming, lopsided grin.

"Yeah, no need ta be a stranger 'round here. You can always ask me anythin' you want, and I'm all ears whenever you need it."

Hanzo gave them both a little smile, nodding his head in thanks. It was nice having his brother back, and it was nice having another friend to help him out.

They took down the Shimada empire a month later, just like they had planned. It was a quick and quiet operation, the clan already on a steady downfall with the loss of their leader, no true heirs left, so the scramble for power had lead to weakness and distrust among the council. The black ops crew had trained with each other for weeks, practicing combat, running drills, truly becoming a team together.

They overestimated their opponents, but better to be over-prepared than not. Hanzo was surprised at how easy it was to let what was left of his old home, his old chains, crumble. How good it felt to finally be free of these people, this place.

He and Genji had gone in, striking down the last of the elders and anyone that got in their way with their dragons, making a point to kill them with the weapons they had so rigorously trained them with, never expecting they would be turned against them. The operations team came in after them, clearing the building and cleaning up, everything done in quick silence, a resonant triumph in the air from the agents.

Hanzo found himself unexpectedly on the balcony he thought Genji had died on, staring out at the city lights glittering in the night and the mountain bathed in pale moonlight. He didn't hear Genji come up behind him, but Hanzo knew he was there, confirmation coming when his little brother came to stand beside him.

"I thought you died that night. I thought this was the last place I would ever see you." Hanzo murmured, Genji turning his head ever so slightly in his direction.

"Is that disappointment I hear in your voice?" He teased, lightening the tense atmosphere, as usual. Hanzo huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

"Not funny. This was...Easier than I expected."

Genji tilted his head in thought, taking a moment to think before he replied.

"You take the head off of a snake, its body flounders uselessly, unable to control its movements until it eventually runs out of energy and destroys itself. We took you, Hanzo, the last grip they had of any sort of power. The clan was nothing without a proper leader, without you. It ended up tearing itself apart before we even came in to clean up the mess in its wake."

Hanzo stared at Genji for a moment before he sighed lightly.

"That was an incredibly morbid analogy, but it works."

"You like it? I've been thinking on it for a while, actually. I'm quite proud of it." Genji hummed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes crinkling at the edges in an unseen grin.

"It's over now, then. Just like that?" Hanzo whispered disbelievingly, and Genji turned to face him, pulling his brother into a hug after a moment.

"Yeah. It's over. We're free now." Genji assured softly, pulling away but keeping his hand on Hanzo's arm.

Hanzo smiled, that invisible weight that had always seemed to be on his shoulders lifting, any doubts still in his mind clearing. He felt refreshed. Like a new man.

"I...We are...God, we're free..."

Genji grinned again, light filling his eyes as he went back into the main building, Hanzo following him. Reyes was waiting for them at the entrance, the team of agents spread out, some of them still finishing up inside, others already laughing and heading into the city.

"You boys need some extra time alone here?"

"God, no. No, we're good." Genji said, shaking his head and looking out at the glowing streets, neon lights from the various shops and attractions still open this time of night casting hues of bright colour on them. Hanzo nodded in agreement, and Reyes grinned.

"Good. Get on outta here, then. Go get a drink or two, they're on Jack. Overwatch will be coming in soon to officially take over the mission, so you might want to leave, they'll want to ask a lot of questions."

"Thanks Gabe!" Genji grinned, walking past him with a wave and heading out past the castle gates.

"Thank you, Commander. For everything." Hanzo spoke quietly, voice sincere. Reyes smiled and pat his shoulder lightly.

"No problem, princess. Now, go have some fun."

Hanzo took a breath before walking out of the compound, stepping into the streets and finally able to enjoy it the way he wanted to. He looked around at all the shops he had seen and known all his life, yet it all seemed brand new to him now, everything just a bit different, but in a really nice way.

Hanzo walked into the club he had always been forced to avoid, blending in easily and going to the end of the bar, eyeing the colourful drinks with interest. Lights flashed and music beat through the building, people dancing and talking loudly in a drone of noise, something Hanzo would have never thought he would like, but did. He ordered a few simple drinks, making friendly conversation with the bartender as he enjoyed them.

The seat next to him was pulled out, Genji suddenly appearing and sitting beside him, ordering his own drinks. He had his faceplate off but hood up, and he smiled at Hanzo when he looked over. Hanzo found he liked that smile just as much as his little brother's old one, perhaps even more.

When the bartender set down the drinks in front of him, Genji raised one up, Hanzo taking his last one and doing the same.

"How about...To freedom." Genji hummed quietly, though Hanzo could still hear him easily.

"To freedom." He agreed, tapping his glass against Genji's and downing the drink, smiling at the warm, light feeling spreading through him.

They were free.

#blackwatchAU #final chapter #mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #hanzo shimada #gabriel reyes #Whiskey'sWorks #hope you guys enjoyed this!#thanks for sticking with it #and for all the kind words throughout #^^

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sayo-writes-fanfiction · 5 years

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On the One Hand- Death: 6- What Do You Mean Booze Ain’t Food?

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

A month of chasing cases, a month of traveling in the general area surrounding Sioux Falls, a month of learning on what not to do when facing off with specific monsters.

For example, Sonya learned it was a very bad idea to loose her silver dagger when attempting to take down a werewolf after her gun had been knocked out of her hand moments before. As the long, newly healed scar running down her left side states.

She also learned to never leave the salt circle unless you were A. Sure it wasn't a ghost, or B. had enough salt and/or had something iron to hit it with. This was quickly fixed by visiting several stores until she finally managed to get her hands on a large iron ring which she had sized to fit on her right ring finger. It wasn't perfect, but definitely helped in a pinch.

And finally, she learned that Garth, despite how skinny the hunter was, could pack away enough food at an all-you-can-eat buffet to get them kicked out.

Holding her hand out the open window, Sonya watched with an amused grin as the air currents pushed it up and down as Garth drove along. "You sure you wanna go back? I mean, there's a haunting in Indiana I could use your help on?"

Turning to look over at Garth's hopeful expression, she almost said she'd stay, but fortunately it wasn't the first time she was faced with his 'lost puppy' look, and it wouldn't be the last. "I told ya, buddy, I wanna go back, relax a bit, catch up reading some of the new books Bobby got delivered last week. Sort of a personal project I'm working on." She hedged slightly, watching his face flicker with disappointment then go back to smiling like usual.

"Ah well, can't blame me for tryin'." He laughed, turning the truck onto the drive leading up to Bobby's house.

"True." Sonya grinned back, turning to look out the window as they finally came to a stop, eyes landing on a rather beautiful vehicle sitting in the usual parking spot. "What do we have here?"

"Dunno, but wow." Garth whistled lowly, leaning out his own window to get a better look at the car sitting there, appreciation plastered across his face.

"No shit." With a grunt, she grabbed her bag from the floorboards and shoved the door open. "Anyhow, better get inside. There's a shower and bed calling my name." With a final grin over at Garth, she shut the door and leaned in through the window. "You gonna be alright without me watching your skinny arse?"

With a snort, he threw the truck back into gear and shot her a grin. "I think I can handle it." Sonya took a few steps away as the truck backed up, one hand raised in farewell as it disappeared into a cloud of dust back down the drive.

Turning back around, Sonya eyed the sleek, black car as she drew level with it, a whistle of amazement blowing out from between pursed lips when she got close enough to see her reflection in the door. "Beautiful, aren't you?"

Forcing herself to turn away, she shook her head and stomped up onto the porch and pulled the screen open. Not bothering to knock, she pushed the door open and dropped her bag to the floor beside her. "Lucy, I'm home!"

The muttered voices in Bobby's study came to a halt once she called out, raising one of her eyebrows slightly, peered around the edge of the doorway, a smirk twisting her lips upwards at the sight of Bobby's less than amused glare. "Howdy."

"You're late." Bobby grunted by way of greeting, hand reaching up to push the brim of his cap back as she stepped into the study, eyes flicking over to the two vaguely familiar men standing on the other side of his desk.

"Sorry, Garth and I spotted this restaurant leaving Oklahoma, pancakes as big as your head." Sonya lifted her hands up, framing her face in an attempt to give a better visual at just how big they were. "Anyway, I'm here now."

"'Bout time." He grunted, looking over at the two men giving her a curious look as she came to a stop beside the desk. Returning the stare, Sonya eyed them with a critical expression. "That your car outside?"

The shorter of the two flashed her what she believed he thought to be a flirtatious grin. "That's my baby."

Turning her attention to him fully, she sized him up and finally smiled herself. "Nice."

Clearing his throat, Bobby called their attentions back to him, faint irritation coloring his features. "You two gonna focus, or should we leave you alone?" He asked sarcastically, making Sonya snicker and lean her hip against his desk, arms folding across her chest as she flashed him a grin. "You jealous, Old Man?"

"You got a death wish, Sweetheart?"

"As if you could catch me." Sonya stuck her tongue out at him and glanced over at the two, now very amused, men standing there. "Who's this?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester." Bobby grunted, not offering anything else by way of information as per his usual. Rolling her eyes slightly, Sonya straightened up to move towards them, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sonya, because I highly doubt he'd say anything about me other than how I'm a colossal pain in his ass."

The shorter one grabbed her hand first, squeezing it lightly as he flashed her another flirtatious smile. "Anyone that can appreciate my baby is good enough for me." At which Sonya snorted lightly and raised an eyebrow at him. "So... Anyone with eyes?"

The taller one, Sam she assumed, snorted as well, taking his brother's place and shook her hand as well. "Bobby mentioned someone was staying here, but we had no idea who." He stated lightly, his head tipped to the side a bit as he offered a small smile at her amused expression.

"If you three are done with the niceties, we have business." Bobby grunted, making Sonya pull away from the taller hunter and move back over towards his desk with a curious look. "That why you said you needed my help? Bobby if it's research I'm sure you know everything there is about whatever it is they're hunting." Reverting to her 'business mode' Sonya took the book he gestured at wordlessly and scanned the passage it was open to.

After a few moments, she looked up at him, a serious look in her eyes. "Demons, Bobby, what the actual fuck?"

Giving her a glare for the language, something she never understood his reaction to. He stood up and wandered over to one of his book cases. "'S not important why, you gonna help, or you gonna stand there and bitch?"

Clenching her jaw slightly, Sonya took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. "Only if I know it means you won't pull any stupid stunts." Shaking her head, she turned away and moved towards the stairs without another look at the Winchesters. "Last thing I need is the guy who's house I'm staying at dies. Then where would I be?"

"At least I'd be outta my misery." She heard Bobby's mutter and stuck her tongue out in his general direction before moving upstairs and into her room. Stepping inside, she allowed a smile to form on her face as she took in the familiar sight around her. Despite enjoying hunting and moving place to place, travelling was something she always wanted to do, there was nothing like seeing a bed she had gotten used to sleeping on for the first time in a month.

Despite wanting to go and collapse on her bed, Sonya let out a single, longing sigh and turned her attention to the stacks of books on the other side of the small room. Picking through the ones she read already, Sonya began stacking the ones that could actually be useful to the side.

Pausing, she eyed one of them in her hand and frowned slightly. She could have sworn this one was in his study last time she was there. Opening the cover, she read the title and frowned. 'Key of Solomon' ignoring the small outbreak of goosebumps raising up on her arms, she added that to the useful pile and picked them up, heading back down the stairs.

She'd focus on the eerie factor of her own book being like the bible later. Right now, she planned on helping Bobby and making sure the idiot didn't get himself killed.

Walking back into the study, Sonya swore when the toe of her boot caught on the edge of a nearby bookcase, stumbling forward a few steps and came to a stop beside the desk. "Here." She grunted, dropping the stack on top. "These might help if you're studying up on Demons."

Glancing up at the taller one, Sam, she waved a hand at them with a wry smile. "Have at 'em. I'm getting me something to eat."

Casting a look over towards Bobby and Dean, she disappeared into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door to look inside.

"Oi, where's the beer?"

"Thought you said you were gettin' something to eat." Bobby grumbled back, appearing in the doorway a couple of seconds later, earning a wry look from the young woman. "Beer is part of my food pyramid."

"'Course it is." He rolled his eyes and turned around to see Dean walk up beside him. "Haven't had the time to get to town." Walking away, he left the two of them alone in search of something else. Groaning softly to herself, Sonya shut the door and straightened up as Dean stepped farther into the kitchen. "So... You been staying with Bobby?"

Glancing over at him, she leaned against the counter and smiled wryly. "Mostly. Been out hunting with a friend for about a month though."

He looked her over critically and raised an eyebrow. "You're a hunter?"

"Tryin' to be. You can thank Bobby for that." She nodded over to where they could see the older hunter searching through random drawers for something. "Taught me to handle a gun anyway."

"You a good shot?"

Reaching back, she pulled the pistol Bobby got her from the back of her pants and put it on the counter. "Thanks to him and his tricks, I don't miss." Dean reached for her gun, shooting a questioning look at her before she nodded and picked it up. "Nice."

Holding back a smile, Sonya watched him look it over curiously then handed it back to her as she passed on the way out of the kitchen. "Thanks.”

Bobby turned around just as they both stepped up beside him, two silver flasks sitting in front of him. Handing one of the flasks to Dean, he grabbed the other for himself. "Here you go."

"What's this, holy water?" Dean asked curiously, looking the flask over before glancing up at Bobby as he unscrewed the top of his own. "That one is, this one's whisky." He tipped it back, taking a drink from the flask before putting the lid back on.

Sonya, not one to be left out, snagged the flask from Bobby before he put it away and opened it to take a drink herself. If he didn't have any beer to drink, then she'd be damned if he kept the whisky from her right now. Glancing over at Dean, she offered him the flask before turning and walking over to join Sam at the desk where he sat poring over the books she brought down.

"Any luck?" Looking up at her, Sam offered a small smile and shook his head lightly, one hand waving at the open book in front of him as Dean and Bobby spoke quietly in the background. Reaching over, she snagged it and looked over the page he had open curiously.

"This book... I've never seen anything like it." Sam said while Sonya looked over at Bobby as the older hunter walked up, she tapped the pentagram shape on the page thoughtfully.

"Key of Solomon?" Bobby peered over her shoulder as she turned the book around to show Sam quietly, watching his eyes light up at the sight of it. The expression of someone that truly enjoyed learning new things, what she imagined she looked like when a particular piece of information caught her attention. "It's the real deal alright."

Sam ran a finger over the diagram thoughtfully. "And these, uh, these protective circles. They really work?" He looked over at Bobby, catching sight of Sonya as she straightened up and wandered towards the door where her bag still sat, crouching down to dig through it with a thoughtful look on her face.

Sparing the young woman a glance, Bobby turned his attention back to the brothers. "Hell yea. You get a demon in one, they're trapped, powerless. Kinda like a... Satanic roach motel."

Looking up, Sonya laughed softly with Sam, amusement sparkling in her eyes as she rejoined them, journal in hand before sliding the book around to face her again and flipping back a couple of pages while they kept talking.

Scanning the passage, she flicked her gaze to the journal in her hand, idly glancing at the doodle of an eight she made in the top corner while she read then brushing it off and writing down a few things below it.

"This is some serious crap you boys stepped in." Bobby's voice drew her attention once again, unable to stop the snort that came out at his statement. All three of them shot her a look to which she shrugged at and finished writing down the basic aspects of a protective circle and slapped the journal shut.

"Been in this for a year and I haven't even heard of demons until recently." She added softly, seeing Bobby's subtle nod from the corner of her eye when she looked over at Dean. "Exactly, normally I hear of one or two demonic possessions a year, now it's twenty-seven... So far."

Glancing at Sonya, he turned his attention to Dean's thoughtful look. "You get what I'm sayin'? More and more demons are walking among us." He paused and Sonya could see the worry forming on his face as he shook his head slightly. "A lot more."

Repressing a shudder that tried to work down her spine, Sonya leaned her hip against the edge of the desk, a small frown on her face as she flipped back to the diagram and studied it closely. "Do you know why?" She could hear Sam ask quietly, her eyes flicking up to look at him then back down to the page, the vague feeling of something familiar about all of this fluttering around at the edges of her thoughts.

"No, but I know it's something big. Storm's commin', and you boys, your daddy? You are smack in the middle of it."

Glancing up at the ceiling, Sonya smiled at the familiar sight there, eyes tracing the exact replica of the diagram sitting in front of her. Leave it to Bobby to think so far ahead, he didn't even realize he would need a trap set in place years after he put it up.

Rumsfeld's barking jerked her from her thoughts, eyes wide as she moved towards the door. Mind already putting two and two together as she realized fairly quickly, if the boys were here about demons, then that would mean-

"Sonya-" Bobby's strong hand on her shoulder stopped her from getting any farther, his sharp voice making her look up at him. "Go upstairs. Now."

"Bobby, I can-"

"Now."

Shooting a look between him and the brothers, Sonya swallowed back the retort she was going to make and clenched her jaw tightly before nodding and disappearing up the steps quickly, ducking around the corner of the open door to her room so she could listen.

A sudden, pained whimper from the dog she had gotten rather attached to made Sonya wince, the urge to go downstairs and punch whoever or whatever made him make that noise overwhelming. Turning her back to the wall, she slid down and rubbed her hands across her face in an attempt to focus.

Downstairs she could hear the sound of something breaking, probably the door if the sound of it slamming against the wall could be anything to go by, followed by a female voice.

The sound of something crashing against the wall made her jump slightly and move back towards the stairs hesitantly. She may be a hunter, even if she was new to it, but she had never faced a demon before, and frankly, it was more than a little terrifying.

The woman's voice sounded again, raising in volume little by little, but Sonya barely caught anything she was saying before Dean's voice came floating up the stairs loud and clear. "Actually, we were counting on it..." He paused, Sonya poking her head around the doorway to look down the stairs at where she could see him leaning against the doorway. "Gotcha."

Deciding to screw Bobby and his insistence she 'stay out of trouble', she slowly made her way downstairs, Dean's eyes flicking quickly in her direction, hardening at the sight then moved away as he walked into the study.

Well, it was too late to back away now. Holding her breath, Sonya turned at the bottom and stopped in the doorway, eyes immediately moving towards the young woman standing in the center of the room with a furious expression on her face.

"Oh, lookie here, you boys know how to have all the fun, don't you?" A cocky smile replaced the scowl as the demon caught sight of Sonya, Bobby's angry glance towards her nearly making her flinch as she stepped into the room. "Haven't seen you around before. Tell me, these Winchesters show you a good time?"

Grimacing slightly at the suggestion, Sonya ignored the demon and moved to stand next to Bobby, her lips twisting in a frown when all he did was shoot her another glare. "Thought I told you to go upstairs."

"I did, and then I came back down." She quipped, making the older hunter shoot her another glare as the demon laughed lightly. "Oh, I like her, she's funny."

"Shut up." Dean's sharp retort made Sonya look over where he drug a chair towards the Demon, Sam behind him with some rope. Both of them wearing identical looks of irritation as they moved to restrain the woman.

Keeping back while they worked, Sonya picked up the forgotten Key of Solomon and flipped through the pages idly for something to do as the men finished whatever they were doing.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up... All you had to do was ask." Hearing that comment, Sonya glanced over towards the demon, one eyebrow raised just in time to lock gazes with her. "But you on the other hand... I think you'd be the one tied up, not me." She winked much to Sonya's disgust which she showed clearly on her face, only furthering the woman's amusement at her reaction. "You can act like that all you want, light bright, but you and I both know you'd love it." Sonya furrowed her eyebrows at that. Light Bright? What the hell did that mean?

Then she remembered what the wiccan, Sam, said, a cold chill working over her as she stared at the demon speechlessly. The woman, seeing she had Sonya's full attention, smiled and leaned back in the chair. "That's right, and I'm not the only one that noticed."

Swallowing thickly, she ignored the looks both Sam and Dean sent her way and brushed past Bobby on the way back towards the stairs. Maybe she should have listened to him when he told her to go up there, it was a hell of a lot better not knowing that apparently demons can see her unusual soul too.

Ducking into her room, she shut the door securely behind her and leaned against it, one hand covering her mouth as she stared in front of her without seeing anything there. If demons were going to become a regular thing, then Sam was right when she said they would be drawn to her.

Anything that made you stick out to the monsters in the dark was a bad thing, like wearing neon lights in a game of hide and seek. And if Demons were the type to be curious, she was well and fucked. Moving away from the door, she walked towards her bed and sat down on it in a daze.

Not to mention the two hunters downstairs heard what the demon said, that wasn't a conversation she was really up to talk about. That was if they believed her anyway, in either direction, there would be questions asked and she couldn't see any way to go about explaining something she didn't even know or understand herself.

Looking down at her hands, Sonya spied the corner of a book poking out of the side pocket of her pants. Reaching down, she pulled it out and turned it over in her hands thoughtfully. She had picked through it over the past month, but really, she didn't understand why Sam had given it to her in the first place. It didn't say anything about her 'bright' soul or give any explanation why she was even there.

Ignoring the voices drifting up the stairs, she opened the book again and began paging through it to where she left off, intending to loose herself in the confusing information written there and try to forget the fact that Demons apparently could see souls.

It wasn't long after that she heard shouting downstairs then silence. The place shook a bit, but nothing she felt she needed to be worried about.

"Get down here." Bobby's voice drifted up to the cracked door of her room, making Sonya look up with a small frown on her face and get up to join him in the study.

Stopping in the doorway, she eyed the body laying on the ground in confusion. Blood had dripped out of the woman's mouth at some point, gathering in the corner to slowly dry. Hearing Bobby's footsteps behind her, Sonya turned to look at him in question as he hung up the phone.

"Exorcised the demon." He grunted by way of explanation, moving over to stand next to the body. "Help me move her outside."

"Bobby-"

"Now." A sharp word and glare kicked Sonya into gear, quickly walking over to help him pick the broken body up and carry it outside several yards away from the house. Setting her down, Sonya brushed her hands on her jeans and watched as the older hunter went about moving the woman's arms and legs until they looked natural.

"What the hell is going on, Bobby?" She finally asked once he was done, watching him straighten up and remove his cap to rub his forehead before turning to look over at her.

"I should ask you the same question, Sunshine. Got somethin' to tell me about what the demon was sayin' to you?"

Clenching her teeth, Sonya stared at him silently a moment then dropped her gaze down to the body in front of them. "It's not important."

"The hell it ain't!" Bobby burst out, making the younger girl jump in surprise and watch as he paced back and forth in front of her. "If a demon's got it's eye on you, it ain't good! Now what the hell did it mean?"

Unsure how he'll take it, Sonya shifted one of her feet back, slightly behind the other and chewed on her lip. "It's hard to explain."

"Then get started, we got about ten minutes before the cops show up." He waved an idle hand at the body still laying between them, his eyes still locked on Sonya as she shifted on her feet, obviously uncomfortable.

"Apparently my soul is brighter than most peoples." She blurted out, hands flying up to wave in the air around her as the words began spilling past her lips without a filter.

"It's too bright! I don't know why either, the first time I heard about it was when you sent me and Garth on that vamp hunt a month ago!" Sucking in a breath, she began pacing this time, hands alternating between waving around and wrapping around her while she spoke.

"I met a psychic, she said my soul was too bright, she was surprised nothing had come after me yet as it was. And she's right! I had no idea what was going on, I just assumed that it's because I came from a different reality that my soul is so odd." Finally stopping, she hesitantly shot Bobby a look then stared back down at her shoes.

"That- That demon confirmed it for me."

Silence reigned after her spew of information, the only sound being their collective breathing and the soft breeze that rustled the loose pieces of metal attached to nearby junkers.

Refusing to look up at the hunter, Sonya stared down at the body with something akin to fascination, watching the stray strands of hair brush across her face with the wind.

A long sigh drew her attention up to where Bobby still stood, his expression pensive and closed-off as he watched her. "Bobby?"

"We'll talk abou' this later." He gruffly cut her off, turning his head in the direction they could hear faint sirens approaching in. "One problem at a time."

Nodding, Sonya shifted on her feet, ignoring the pang of sadness that despite everything, the older hunter viewed her as a problem now. One akin to explaining away a dead body, apparently.

Truthfully, it wasn't hard to imagine she was a problem now. A soul that seemed to act like a beacon for all things creepy and crawly? It's a Problem with a capital 'P' if anything, and here she was in this man's house where a demon already showed up at.

How long would it be before other's started showing up in search of her? How long before the older hunter was put into danger, hurt or even killed because of her? It wasn't like she had a choice in all of this, she didn't even know her soul was odd until Sam told her.

Idly Sonya wondered if she had ignored the urge to go in the Wiccan shop, would it have made any difference? She wouldn't be able to explain why the Demon was so interested in her, leaving both her and Bobby in the dark.

No, she decided, it was better to know, at least they had some sort of idea on how to deal with this. Even if it was only the start, one step was better than one.

Looking up from the ground just in time to see the police cars pull in beside where Bobby had moved to, an ambulance behind them. Moving to meet them, Bobby began talking, hands moving a bit as he explained exactly why there was a dead woman laying in the gravel at his home.

Not the best situation to be in, but if she knew Bobby like she thinks she does. Sonya was absolutely sure he'd come up with something fairly believable, enough so no one would think they had anything to do with it anyway.

Tags: @olidiavalree

#supernatural #fanfiction #oc insert #trans female to male oc #bobby singer #dean winchester #sam winchester #garth fitzgerald iv #baby #meg #demons #dead body #blood mentions #humor #because having #sonya and bobby interact #is my bread and butter #who could resist

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hamelott · 6 years

Note

Love your writing! If you're open to requests right now, I was wondering if you could write some jazekiel where Ezekiel is jealous of Sarina because she's a conspiracy theorist and Jake likes her romantically? If you're into that sorta thing, I don't know, just a thought

ok wow this feels really weird, but I’m back! there are a variety of reasons why I haven’t been around very much, but I’ll basically just sum it up as Life.

anyways, if you’re still around anon, here it is! I hope you all enjoy!

It started with a knock.

Jake and Ezekiel glanced up, confused, asa short flurry of three knocks resounded throughout the Library.

Ezekiel glanced at Jake with a frown. “Youthink Flynn forgot his keys?”

With a small smirk and a roll of his eyes,Jake said, “Yeah, probably. Let’s go check I guess.”

“But our game!” Ezekiel all but whined,flailing a disappointed hand at the TV screen in front of them. On the screen,a man in a triceratops onesie was paused mid-jump out of a bus that flew aroundthe sky; also, did Ezekiel mention that he loved video games?

Jake gave him another eyeroll. “C’mon,Jones, it’ll just be real quick. Let’s go.”

With a huff, Ezekiel slowly got to hisfeet and dragged himself out of the room like a petulant five-year-old. Hecould hear Jake holding back a little bit of laughter behind him and couldn’thelp but smirk to himself. Making Jake laugh always felt like a bit of an accomplishmenteven when they were alone. And it was a lot more rewarding than a roll of hiseyes or a “Shut up, Jones.”

They finally managed to reach the frontdoors of the Library…well, Annex…well area that was still connected to the Library,resembled the Annex, and was still connected to Portland…that…area.

Ezekiel had to stand up on his tippy toesto peek out of the peephole and nearly reared back in surprise at what he saw.

Instead of a moping Flynn, Ezekiel found animpatient-looking woman. She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. In onhand she held a leather-bound notebook and in the other she held a pen. Ezekielcouldn’t see past her waist, but he was pretty sure one of her feet would betapping in wait.

“What is it?” Jake asked. He forcefully (butwithout causing any bodily harm) grabbed Ezekiel by the shoulders and pushed himaway, leaning forward to look out as well. Ezekiel raised his hand and started nervouslychewing at his thumb.

“Recognize her?” he eventually asked when Jakedidn’t step back.

Jake slowly shook his head. “Can’t say I do.You?”

“Nope,” Ezekiel said.

“This could be bad,” Jake said, but hestill had yet to pull away from the peephole.

“She could be dangerous,” Ezekielreasoned.

“She could be a goddess that Flynn pissedoff,” Jake said rationally.

“She could be one of Jenkins’s long, lostlovers,” Ezekiel said, biting down a smile at the thought.

“We should open the door,” Jake saidsuddenly.

“Wait, what-?!” Ezekiel protested, but itwas already too late. Jake opened the door, and Ezekiel’s stomach sunk when he caughtthe charming cowboy-grin on his face.

“Howdy. How can we help you?” Jake said,trying to act all nonchalant as he leant against the doorframe. Acting like hewasn’t some weirdo who apparently lived under a bridge with his smaller Asianfriend. Ezekiel rolled his eyes.

The woman’s eyes were wide, and she wasstanding on her toes, trying to peek past Jake into the Library. “Oh, uh, I didn’tactually expect anyone to answer.”

“We have weekly poker nights down here,”Jake said, shooting a not-so-subtle wink at Ezekiel.

Ezekiel, again, rolled his eyes andmouthed, Nice one.

The woman frowned. “That’s weird. You’reaware that’s weird, right? And also suspicious.”

“We like livin’ life the way we want it,”Jake said with a shrug.

“Well, then can I play a round?” the womanasked, clearly trying to call his bluff.

“Nah, sorry,” Ezekiel piped up. “Membersonly.”

“How do you get membership?” the woman interrogated.Ezekiel’s fists clenched at his side; what did this woman want?

“You can’t, sorry,” Ezekiel said. He frownedat her. “Are you some kind of reporter or something?”

The woman glanced down to where she stillheld her notebook and pen. “Or something. And that ‘something’ makes me thinkthat you two are lying to me. I have it under good authority that this bridgehouses a magical portal into a pocket dimension.”

Jake and Ezekiel shared a wide-eye glancewith each other.

“Just so you know, your silence onlyproves that I’m correct,” the woman said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’sclear that you two aren’t going to let me in, so I’m going to leave. But I’llbe back tomorrow, make no doubts about that.”

With that she turned on her heel andmarched away from the entrance to the Library.

“Wait!” Jake called after her. “What’syour name?”

The girl glanced over her shoulder, and Ezekielnoticed the slight little smile playing at her lips. “Sarina.”

Jake slowly closed the door. He glanced atEzekiel. “That was weird.”

Ezekiel shrugged. “Not harmful though. Let’sget back to our game.”

“Yeah, sure, Jones,” Jake said. Ezekieltried to ignore the small smile on his face, and the intrigued glances he kept shootingback at the door as they made their way into the Library.

~~~

She kept her word and showed up the nextday. And the next and the next and the next. Jake greeted her every time with asmile and an arm blocking her from coming inside. Ezekiel had stopped going withhim a while ago.

Somehow, Jake had managed to keep it fromEve. Cassandra, however, was a whole other story.

“What do they even do out there?”Cassandra asked with a small frown.

Ezekiel, head slumped on the table, muttered,“Who knows? He probably just flirts with her until she goes home.

“Wow, Ezekiel, you don’t sound bitter atall,” Cassandra said with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I’m not bitter,” Ezekiel weaklyprotested.

“Mm-hm,” Cassandra hummed. She was sortingthrough some books; Ezekiel had started by helping her but eventually his work dwindledinto the sad position in which he was now laying. “Sure you’re not.”

“What are you trying to say, Cass?” Ezekielasked, glancing up at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, nothing,” Cassandra said with a smallshake of her head.

“Good,” Ezekiel mumbled.

“Except that you’re extremely jealous ofthis Sarina girl,” Cassandra added, hiding a laugh behind her hand.

“Am not!” Ezekiel practically shouted, snappinghis head up off the table. Despite his claim, he could feel his cheeks burning.

Cassandra nodded. “Oh, you’re right, mybad. Clearly you’re not jealous.”

“Yeah, right…exactly,” Ezekiel saidtartly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just keep telling yourself that, sweetie,”Cassandra said with a cheeky grin. She gathered up her books and walked away,leaving Ezekiel to think about what she had said.

~~~

“What does she even want?” Ezekiel askedone afternoon. Jake was sitting at his desk while Ezekiel was just being ageneral nuisance, messing with Jake’s desk things and, apparently, asking questionsabout Sarina.

“Who?” Jake asked, slowly looking up fromhis laptop. He had bags under his eyes, and Ezekiel knew it was because thisspecific paper had been giving him a hard time.

Ezekiel shrugged, taking apart one of Jake’spens. “Your reporter girlfriend.”

Jake frowned and slowly shook his head. “Sarina?Okay, first off, she’s not a reporter anymore. She’s a conspiracy theoristwhose life was basically ruined because of us.”

“It was?” Ezekiel asked.

Jake shrugged. “Well, I mean, yeah. Whatnewspaper or news station is going to listen to some lady blabbering on about howthere’s a magical place called the Library that protects the universe frommagic? Honestly, she doesn’t even ask about us anymore. She knows I’m nevergonna tell her anything.”

“You don’t tell her the truth?” Ezekielasked, a little surprised.

Jake snorted. “Of course not, man.”

Ezekiel went quiet as Jake went back to hiscomputer. He’d just put the pen back together when Jake added, “And, secondly,she’s not my type.”

“Oh,” Ezekiel murmured with a small rollof his eyes, “then what is the greatJacob Stone’s type if not beautiful women?”

Jake just shrugged. “Annoying thieves whocan’t keep their damn hands to themselves.”

He had a smile on his face as he stood up andswiped his pen back from Ezekiel. Through a yawn, he said, “I’m gonna go get apizza. You in?”

“Uh, sure!” Ezekiel squeaked, a flush onhis face.

Jake laughed a big, deep kind of laugh asEzekiel followed him, and Ezekiel couldn’t help the wide, dopey grin that madehis cheeks kind of ache.

(Later Cassie would rub it in his facethat he was totally jealous.

And, okay, maybe he was kind of jealous.)

#the librarians #the librarians fanfiction #jake stone #ezekiel jones #jazekiel #librarians sarina #cassandra cillian #me? writing? for tumblr?#what a concept #but uh yeah here it is #no promises i'm back for good #but uh #yeah #thanks for reading!#hannah answers #anonymous #hannah writes #requests

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heckin-good-holland-blog · 7 years

Photo

Left On Read

Warnings: None !!

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker

Genre: Fluff + a little angst here and there

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N:Howdy ok so I just made this blog and I’ve never written anything before?? I hope you guys like it :) ——

He was just your biology partner. It shouldn’t have escalated to this, it should have been some friendly interactions in class and that’s it. Why did you have to go and fall head over heals in love with Peter Parker? Every time you saw him your stomach did flips and your heart started beating at the speed of light. Talking to him was the highlight of your day and when class ended you kept replaying your conversations in your head. You simply couldn’t get him off your mind no matter how hard you tried.

At first Peter just seemed like a normal (and somewhat dorky) boy. To be perfectly honest, you had forgotten he was even in your class because he was quiet and reserved. Everything about him was insignificant up until rumors started to fly about the Stark Internship he was supposedly a part of. This did interest you a little, I mean it wasn’t every day your classmate got a job with Tony Stark. You never really found the right moment to ask Peter about it though since you weren’t friends. That is, up until you were paired together in biology.

“Psst,” you whispered at him one day during a lecture. He jumped, clearly not expecting you to talk to him. You giggled at his reaction and he smiled shyly.

“Oh god sorry I didn’t mean to scare you,” you laughed. “I just wanted to ask… You know, the Stark Internship? Is that, like, a thing?” His ears turned pink and he nodded slowly.

“Y-yeah, Mr. Stark asked if I wanted to work for him. It’s cool, uh… Keeps me busy. N-Not that I need to be kept busy, I have friends and stuff too. It’s just a lot of… work.” You could tell he was mentally facepalming at his own awkwardness and you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. Something about him was charming, and each day you tried to find new things to ask him. You found out about your shared love for Thai food and Star Wars (Peter’s face when you told him your favorite movie was The Empire Strikes Back was absolutely priceless) which lead to longer and more entertaining conversations.

As the semester progressed, Peter became less of just a classmate and more of a friend. You started hanging out outside of class and you joined him at lunch a few days per week. Everything was great, except for one thing. Peter was super into a girl named Liz. It drove you absolutely crazy because, in your opinion, Liz was one of the prettiest girls in your school and you had absolutely nothing on her. He never came out and said it to you, but you knew he really cared for Liz because of the way he looked at her. It was the same way you looked at him. You tried to ignore your feelings for him as much as possible since you valued his friendship and didn’t want to screw things up.

This went on for about two months. Peter went to homecoming with Liz and you were super supportive of it. You gave him advice on how to impress her and helped him as much as possible. You wanted him to be happy even though you knew your night would be miserable. As it turned out, Peter ghosted about 5 minutes in anyway so you weren’t too envious. He had a bad habit of doing that. You tried to ask him what was up but he always avoided the question and brushed it off. A few days after the dance you found out Liz was moving away. Peter was absolutely crushed and became more distant than ever before. You decided that you needed to find out if he was doing alright, so you decided to confront him in biology where he couldn’t run off or avoid you.

“Hey Pete?” you said gently. He looked up from his paper. He was busy copying your homework since he hadn’t done his own.

“Yeah Y/N?” he asked, eyes returning to the page.

“You trust me right? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” He nodded distractedly. “Peter it’s just… You’re gone all the time, you’re not doing your homework, you stopped snapchatting me and broke our 126 day streak. What’s going on?”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “The Stark Internship is taking up a lot of my time I guess.” You sighed, not sure if you believed the excuse or not.

“Hey!” you said, your tone a little brighter. “This bio project is due soon but maybe tonight we can knock it out and not have to worry about it? I can order some takeout or something and we can do it at my place. You in?” He gave you a weak smile and your heart fell, already knowing the answer he was going to give.

“I wish I could, it’s just-”

“Yeah yeah, I get it,” you cut him off. “Mr. Stark is an important dude and I’d hate to get in the way of that. Just… If you get off work early, shoot me a message or something. I miss talking to you. I’ll finish the project and you can check over it and edit whatever you need to.”

“Y/N you’re an angel and I totally don’t deserve you,” he grinned. “I’ll do what I can.” You felt the familiar butterflies in your stomach and tried not to blush. You held onto the hope that he’d show up but were still ready for the disappointment that you had felt so often lately.

A few hours later you sat alone in your kitchen trying to edit the PowerPoint presentation you and Peter had started in class. You were having a tough time since you were completely unfocused.

“This is dumb,” you muttered to yourself. “I should just tell him how I feel. We’re barely that close anymore anyway so there’s no use in hiding it.” You reached for your phone. Unsurprisingly you had no texts from Peter. You took a deep breath and began to type.

Yo Parker. You got a sec?

You pushed your phone away and turned your attention to your computer. A few moments later you heard your phone ding and you quickly snatched it.

Peter Piper 👽: I do have a couple seconds free, what’s going on?

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Were you really going to do this? He wasn’t completely over Liz and you had no idea if he had ever even thought about you that way. What if you messed everything up?

“Get yourself together, Y/N,” you told yourself. “Just do it.” You began to type your message.

Ok, this is gonna sound weird and I don’t want to freak you out but I like you in a more-than-friends way and I have for a while. Just thought you should know

You pressed send. You felt a little dizzy and extremely anxious. It showed that he read it right away, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. You waited and waited and waited some more. Pretty soon it had been 10 minutes and realization dawned on you.

Peter Parker left you on read.

You felt tears threatening to spill out of the corner of your eyes and set your phone down. You went into your room and flopped on your bed, angry at yourself and angry at Peter. It was fine that he didn’t feel the same, you didn’t think he would, but man it would have been nice if he said something. Anything. You lay there wallowing in self pity for a while, thinking about all the potential flaws that made him dislike you. Maybe he secretly hated the sound of your voice and it irritated him every time you talked. Maybe he was only nice to you so he could copy your work. You probably read the entire situation wrong and he never even liked you as a friend to begin with. Every new hypothetical theory tore you apart a little more.

You were about to go take a shower and cry some more when you heard the doorbell ring. You shuffled over curiously; your parents weren’t supposed to be home until later. You pulled the door open only to find Peter standing there, a stupid grin on his face. You couldn’t believe it. Was he here to make fun of you?

“Y/N! I-” You frowned and shut the door in his face and walked away. He knocked loudly and you ignored him.

“What the hell?” you heard him say. “Y/N open the door. What are you, 5?” You sighed dramatically and went back to open it since you knew he’d sit out there all night if he had to.

“What do you want?” you asked. He blinked, confused.

“I-I got your text message,” he said. You covered your face in your hands and he yelped in panic. “No no, don’t be embarrassed!”

“I’m sorry about that, I made things so awkward and I shouldn’t have put you in that situation, but damn Pete not responding was pretty cold,” you told him. His eyes widened and he fumbled around in his pockets for a moment before finally finding his phone.

“W-what do you mean?” he exclaimed, his voice coming out high-pitched. He tapped the screen a few times before his face turned red. “Shit.”

“What?” you asked, laughing despite yourself at his face.

“Um… I guess it didn’t send,” he said sheepishly. “I meant to tell you that, well, I feel the same way. I know I’m busy but I swear I’ll make it work if you want to try-”

“Maybe you should try working somewhere with better cell reception,” you said breathlessly and he smiled.

“Yeah, I suppose I should.”

#this is only sorta bad #peter parker #spider man #tom holland #peter parker imagine #spiderman fluff #sam writes!!

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baronfulmen · 7 years

Text

Story 228: Both Simpler and More Complicated

Jennie Hollis hated magic. It wasn’t the extra-dimensional monsters that reached out of the shadows to devour her – those she could manage. It was the sloppiness of it all. She could create a ball of fire and hurl it at something without breaking a sweat even though a coherent ball of flame should burn her hand, and should require fuel, and clearly had some sort of solid core but also levitated. These were non-trivial problems in theory, and it just sort of worked. Then she would try to do something simple, like negate the weak nuclear force in a small area, and it was a huge headache – literally and figuratively. There was just no rhyme or reason to it.

“This is bullshit,” she said. Jennie rested her head on her desk and tried to wallow in misery, but her little desk lamp was too bright even with her eyes closed. She thought about making the bulb blow out with magic, then thought about cloaking the whole room in darkness instead, then thought about telekinetically flipping the light switch. Then she thought about how all three of those used about the same amount of energy even though logically they shouldn’t, and she just gave up and turned the light off with her actual finger. “Bullshit!” chirped a tinny voice from across the room. “Quiet, Canary.” Canary was a lead sphere about the size of a baseball, painted yellow. Jennie was extremely proud of it, even though it embodied everything that frustrated her about magic. Imbuing the stupid ball with a rudimentary intelligence had been way too easy. Shouldn’t that be one of the hardest things of all? Canary made a loud chirping noise, and a ripple of energy passed through the room. Another extra-dimensional monster toasted. They were easy to kill, barely corporeal shadow fiends that lurched out of the walls blindly groping towards any source of magic. Jennie had spent a few months being terrified of them before she got really good at tearing them apart, and then a few months longer looking over her shoulder all the time until she had made Canary.

Canary could float along behind her, and it gave off an obnoxiously strong magical signal. Most of that magic was a rechargeable spell to kill shadow beasties, with another spell just barely preventing that from going off. Whenever a nightmare came too close it would always go for Canary first, and the second it drained any energy the spell would let loose and kill it. It was like a magical bug zapper. Jennie focused on the ball for a moment, until it made a contented whistling sound. All primed and ready to go again. It was so nice to be able to concentrate on her work without worrying about something coming up behind her. Except for the part where she hated her work. She turned the light back on again, determined to get out of her funk. On the desk in front of her were five old cell phones with dead batteries. “This is going to work. This is going to work.” Magic was energy, of a sort. It was really good at turning into other kinds of energy, like light or electricity or heat. In theory, then, she should be able to recharge these phones with magic. It just wasn’t working. Concentrating, she gently reached out to the first phone and felt the flow of magical energy surround her. The phone burst into flames. “Son of a bitch!” She got the fire extinguished, but at the cost of coating the whole top of the desk with frost. Canary giggled.

The workshop – originally something odd that was either a really small barn or a really large garage – was hazy with smoke. Jennie pried open the one window that wasn’t hopelessly painted shut, and propped the side door open. The main double doors weren’t functional, having been nailed together so she could build shelves. Jennie rented the space from her parents, and slept in the tiny loft above her work area. It was cool, and had lots of character, but it was also cold as hell in the winter and just sixty-eight feet from her parent’s house. Not for the first time, Jennie wondered if she could buy a vacant lot and magically transport the workshop there. Probably not, she thought, but for some reason she felt certain she could do it by making the whole structure walk there. Why was she picturing chicken legs? Whatever. That wouldn't work, as far as she could tell virtually nobody knew magic was real. On the off chance that this was due to some sort of global Illuminati that assassinated magic users to keep it under wraps she wasn't eager to make a building strut across town. But until she did find a good way to relocate, she also had to hide it from her parents.

Her mother walked in, as if on cue. "Sweetie, are you coming to the house?" Jennie glanced around for Canary, but it was nowhere to be found. Canary had been acting more and more on its own, which was simultaneously awesome and a little troubling. She had hidden it herself, then she had been able to tell it to hide, and now it appeared to have just figured out that mom = get out of sight. "Mom, you need to knock. I'm paying rent." "Well the door was open, sweetheart. Was... was something burning?" "One of my inventions." Jennie cringed internally every time she made that stupid excuse. "Minor electrical problem, nothing to be worried about." Her mother nodded, but looked like she planned to worry anyway. "Well. Okay. But are you coming? You know we invited our new neighbors to dinner and you said you'd join us." "Shit. I mean shoot. Sorry, mom. Um... yes. Give me ten minutes to get cleaned up, okay?" The neighbors had moved in a week ago, and looked like something out of a 1950's Sears catalog. Jennie didn't really feel like introducing herself to anyone new, but it wasn't worth saying no to her mom. "She's gone, Canary. Come on out."

Canary floated out from behind a stack of books and drifted to Jennie. "Coming to the house?" It sounded a little like Jennie's mom. "Yes, Canary. I'm going to the house for dinner. Let me look at you." She took Canary in her hand, and squinted. The spells were there, looking the same as ever. The retaining spell for the shadow zapper, then the zapper, then - woven into the lead ball itself - a complex spell to grant sentience and let Canary talk, float, and perceive the world around it. "Are you getting smarter, Canary?" Canary giggled. "I'll take that as a maybe. I just wish I understood how." Canary chirped, the same way it did when a beastie grabbed it. But there wasn't anything in the shadows, or dripping out of the air, or bubbling out of the floorboards or whatever. There was... crunching? Someone was walking up the gravel path. "Howdy, neighbor!" The he-neighbor. Jennie tried to smile, but was annoyed by the intrusion. "Oh. Hey, you want the main house. My mom and dad are getting dinner set up for you right now." "Sure, sure. Sounds great. I just saw the door open and the light on and thought I'd poke in to say hello." "Okay. Hello." "Jake. Jake Price." He extended his hand to shake hers, and she awkwardly started to reach forward while still holding Canary. He took it from her. "Oh. Um. If I could just..." "What do we have here? A heavy little thing! You know, this reminds me..." Canary chirped, and a ripple of magical energy washed over them. Jake dropped Canary, and stared blankly ahead. "Oh, shit. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Canary?" There was no answer. It was gone, hiding somewhere. Jennie knew the spell should be harmless to humans, but her new neighbor looked catatonic.

He blinked. "Uh... " "Are you okay?" "Where am I?" His accent was different, it had a sort of Southern twang it hadn't before. "I remember... in the root cellar, there was something... something in the walls... and..." He trailed off, and shook his head. "Okay. Do you remember your name?" It was the only thing she could think to ask. All she knew about him was his name, where he lived, and that he was married. Should she go and get his wife?" "Yeah, yeah. Of course. My name is Simon Alexander Granger. What... what day is it?" Okay, so wrong accent and wrong name. And Canary had gone off. "Stay here. Don't move. I need to go see something." Jennie headed up to the house. She could smell roast beef and baked potatoes and something else. It smelled delicious. She snuck in through the kitchen, and sure enough the she-neighbor was in the living room. Jennie squinted. There was something there. Something... squirming. She couldn't get a look at it from the kitchen, it was like a spell but fuzzy somehow. Jennie stepped into the room and waved. "Hey. Hi guys. Um, Mrs. Price? Your husband wanted to talk to you outside for some reason." The woman excused herself and walked outside with Jennie. She saw Jake, or Simon, or whatever his name was and stopped dead. "We underestimated you, little witch. You killed my partner." "Oh...kay. Sure. Can I ask what the fuck is going on here?" The spell, or whatever it was, suddenly yanked out of the woman’s body and emerged as a familiar sight. Shadowy tendrils, dripping as they twisted in the air. It was gone before Jennie could react. "Where am I?"

Later, after the police collected her neighbors while seeming completely at a loss about what to do with them, Jennie collapsed at her workbench. She heard Canary humming something. "Canary, let me see you again." As she suspected, the trigger spell was still in place. The zapper shouldn't have gone off. "I don't understand. I don't understand anything. I don't know why some spells are easy and some are hard. I don't know what the things that come after me are. I don't know how you're learning. I don't know how you triggered that spell by yourself, or why. This is so frustrating!" Canary giggled again. "Oh, is this funny for you? Maybe you'd like to actually answer some of my questions?" "Okay" "Wait, really? Do you know the answers?" "Answer. One." "Fine, just one of them. That's something." She had never really had a conversation with Canary before. "All questions. One answer." "They all have the same answer?" Canary made its contented whistle in response. "Okay, spit it out. What is it?" "Magic is alive."

#short fiction #magic

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