#baby chick named chicky
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Pollito / Miguel O’hara
Summary: Your learning a bit of Spanish for Miguel, sure you aren’t great, but you find a new word and you just have to tell him.
Warnings: pure fluff, cussing, established relationship. NOT PROOFREAD, just a blurb, like not even a fic. Please bear with me for the first couple of paragraphs I promise I know what pollito means
When you were learning some more Spanish today, you didn’t expect one of the things you would see would be the word for little chickie, pollito, and immediately, you had to tell Miguel how adorable that is.
You were quick to run to his room, past various Spider-Man. The second you reached his door, you banged on it, however didn’t give him a second to answer, just walking in. “Miggy!”
“Holy shit- you cannot just barge in-“ he stood in the centre of the room, almost seeming ready to attack, you simply grabbed his arm, smiling.
“Yeah yeah, you know during my Spanish lesson, well I learnt some new stuff, like important stuff, but guess what!” You bounced excitedly, squeezing his bicep.
“What? Muneca” He sighed, reluctant to even know, his eyes half lidded, looking very unimpressed.
“There’s a word for little chickie!” You grinned, leaning your head on his arm and he sighed, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I know ‘pollito’ but it also just means chick, sometimes we use it to talk about like attractive people or mothers call their children it, and it’s very similar to ‘pollo’ which is just chicken- what- why is this exciting?” He asks, his other hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you huffed. His eyes flickering over your face, smiling at your reactions.
“Because it’s adorable, duh, your raining on my thunder” you poked his arm “I just thought it was cute”
“But it’s the same as chick-“
“So!!”
“Okay!! Okay, mami its adorable, I appreciate you learning Spanish so very much” he kissed your nose “but, we have a lot of words”
“Yeah yeah..mi pollito” you mumbled under your breath. Turning away from him, letting go of his arm. “What did you just call me? That’s not funny, nor is it cute” He crosses his arms.
“You heard me.. mi pollito” you smiled mischievously and he snickered, rolling his eyes playfully. “No way, I am not allowing that, if anything your mi pollito” he argued.
“Oh so you agree, it’s an adorable pet name”
“No- it just can be used as a term of endearment..fine okay baby it’s kind of cute but mostly, it’s just a common word that can mean many things, tone of voice preciosa ” he sighed, taking your hand, pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours for a second before looking at you.
“Now stop barging in here and go learn some Spanish, mi pollito” he nudged you towards the door, playfully smacking your ass as you walked by him.
“You wouldn’t do that to your little chickie!”
“It means chick!” He yelled back but you had already slammed the door, skipping off to god knows where.
#miguel o'hara fanfiction#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara fluff#spiderman x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#spider verse#spiderman#across the spiderverse#spitefulversefics
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Names to call your regressed pet!
Puppy
pup
lil guy/girl
pubby
pub
pubby wubby
wiggle bum
waggle tail
Kitten
kitty
kitty cat
kitten
cat
catty girl/boy
toe beans
Bunny
silly wabbit
rabbit
baby bun
bunbun
sqeekers
sqeeky
little bun
Bird
birdy
baby bird
little bird
little chick
chicky
baby chick
cluck cluck
little quack / cluck
Other
little lamb
lamby
lamby kins
dear
dearling
baby doe / buck
#₊˚ʚ ❄️ Cinna’s Petspace ₊˚✧ ﾟ.#age regression#sfw agere#agere#agere blog#agere post#pet regressor#petre community#petre blog#petre positivity#pet regression#petreg community#sfw petreg#safe petre
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something something circle of life. when one door closes another opens? idk. anyway, look! new baby chickies!
Chicks: 3/6
transcript:
BAYRAM: (sobbing profusely)
BAYRAM: Aww, new baby chicks...
BAYRAM, aside: Let’s name them... Sister Bahar and Brother Mehmet.
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billy knight 🐣
OKAY WAIT taking him to the farmers market just for local ingredients but somebody's selling baby chicks and he's instantly begging to get one and so you adopt a lil baby chick and his name is nugget (your idea which he was so offended by at first, even covered his 'ears' and then asked if chicks have ears, but then it stuck and he admits it fits) so yeah you have a chicky now and he likes to hold it and it falls asleep in his hands and when you complain that he pooped on you he's like "aw he can't help it :c"
and when nugget grows into a full grown chicken you learn that he is in fact a she and lays eggs around the house so she gets renamed to henny and you get fresh eggs randomly haha
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Hot Wing Chicken AU
Nigel keeps one chick that had stayed behind to "protect" him. The only reason the chickies hatched in the first place is because Nigel's fire powers start out as essentially warm air leaving an oven, so it was like the chickies were under one large chicken rear.
The chick has his fire powers (in a perfect world all of them do and Nigel unleashes them upon the world with glee as his little on-fire babies burn broccoli farms to the ground) and the two can talk to each other as Nigel's powers get stronger.
Nigel: I'm a walking candle, so understanding him - *angry peeps* - oh, you're a her. Pardon me love, is far from the weirdest thing.
Nigel names her Milly. He's not the best with names. He calls her "love" because that's "his child". But that's about it.
(In another world, he keeps Percy. And it's funny because Percy likes to mess with Wally. All the time)
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Btw, does anyone have any tips for taking care of baby chickies?
I haven't even seen a chick in person since we hatched them in kindergarten
(We had a little black and brown one named Dino)
Anyway, we already got the nuggets set up in a space in the basement with a heat lamp and everything
Not sure when we'll move them outside cause last time we tried to get more chickens to add to our original three we got three more lil' speckled juveniles and they all got gotten in the span of a month...
One by the neighbors dog, one by our dog, and one that just vanished so we think a hawk got her-
#Rip Dorothy Elphaba and Glinda#or Heather Heather and Heather#we never settled on named for them#rip munchkins#chickens#chicken help#please#🐏💎
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NAME: Henrietta Jennifer Morgan
NICKNAME(S): Hettie, Hen (family), Baby Girl (her dad), Little Chick/Chicky/Chickadee (her mom)
D.O.B: September 20th
AGE: 16
ORIENTATION: heterosexual
SPECIES: human
FAMILY: Derek Morgan (dad), Penelope Garcia (mom)
NOTE: THIS OC IS HEAVILY ASSOCIATED WITH @thinnerthcnrecall’S SPENCER REID, as Lily helped me develop her a lot!
Being raised by two FBI agents was interesting, to say the least. Her mom was definitely around more than her dad, just by virtue of her position in the BAU; it was a lot easier for her to take her work home with her in order to take care of Henrietta.
Her dad made sure she knew how to fight and protect herself, while her mom made sure she saw all of the beauty and joy that was in the world. She always tried to find the best in everyone, but she was always ready to push back if a line was crossed.
Henrietta was diagnosed with autism in the sixth grade; like a lot of girls, she was good at masking the symptoms, but eventually there were enough signs that her parents took her to get tested. Not much changed for her except having a word for all the little things that she'd always been told made her "odd", and getting a little extra help in school.
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A little egg tooth with your 'tude, little one?
#the sassiest chick I have ever seen#new baby#chickie#baby chick#chickens#1 day old#fluffy#it's name is Chewbacca#Chewy for short#Chewy#birblr#chickenblr#baby animals#egg tooth
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BESTIE WHAT YOU HAVE CHICKENS???
Oh I do! I just realized I don’t think I’ve mentioned them before! Okay I’ll tell you the story, so my dad has always wanted chickens, my family is historically a farming family and my dad was the first generation to grow up not on a farm, which he doesn’t like, he really wants to be a farmer, and last year my brother was really into farm stuff too so as a birthday gift for my brother the two of them built a coop and bought seven baby chicks. The chickies are named Dragon, Peeve, Jill, Reba, Fern, Gwen, And Buffy the egg layer, or Buffy for short. I named Gwen after Gwen from solve it squad because my family thought my other name suggestions were dumb and they just thought it was funny that she’d be Gwen the hen. I also named Dragon, I said it was because I thought it would be funny to say “oh yea I have a pet Dragon” which was part of it, but also she’s named after the dragon from a very potter musical so that I can sing the dragon song to her. So we had our seven chickies up until very recently when one of my dad’s coworkers was moving and he had some chickens that needed to be relocated. So they relocated into our coop, and now we also have Asparagus, Robin, and one we haven’t named yet because my brother thinks they don’t need names because they’re “livestock” 😒 I did actually think about naming one of the new ones after you but my parents are weird about my name suggestions so I couldn’t use meatsouuuuup because they’d find it weird :( but anyway yeah! Chickies!
Gwen is the black one right in front :) Dragon is the black and white speckled one behind her :)
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BORK BORK
🤲
🐣
I present you with a chick, a baby baby chickie
I’ll name it ajax, thank you loqua <3
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Chickie Diary #1
Today’s current adventure; Baby Chickens! (Henceforth referred to as The Chickies, The Ladies, or The Chicks). We have six, bought from the local Tractor Supply; four Easter Eggers (Americanas/Ameraucaunas), and two bantams -- Possibly Silkies. Ignoring how pretty under-prepared we were, they are lovely, soft, and don’t really enjoy being picked up. They grown way more than we would have thought over the weekend. So much, in fact, we had to find them a larger box. The plan is to name them after Murder Mystery characters once they get a bit older. I’ve already tossed Irene Addler, Ms. Lemon, and Alexandrina in the metaphorical hat. My siblings, sweet as they are, would rather name them in relation to how fluffy they are (with the exception of one that my brother, for some inexplicable reason, wants to name Duke). Things like “Too Fluffy”, submitted by my sister (this name was given to the white bantam, under the assumption that it is a Silkie).
The Chickies in Question;
The three dogs seem to be okay with the new additions (the dogs are Luna, Sable, and a chihuahua named Princess Buttercup), but as the brooder is housed in a separate room, where they aren’t allowed, there is really no telling. No word from the outside cat, Jayne Cobb. Presumably, he’d like to eat them, as evidenced by the dead songbirds.
Brother and Sister are in love with them, and would honestly carry them around constantly if we would let them.
I am very excited to build a coop and run, and am definitely looking forward to collecting eggs. We have our fingers crossed that the ‘Easter Eggers’ will all have different colored eggs, and that neither of the bantams are roosters.
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Veronica owning colored chicks Part 2
The Red Chick walked a couple steps forward a little more, and ended up losing balance at the edge of the stairs. “Heather!!” Veronica screamed as she tried to catch the red chick. All three of the Heathers had a confused faced as each one tried to figure out why Veronica called out their name.
With the red chick cupped in between her palms Veronica sighed in relief at the still chirping chick, but then suddenly realized what she shouted. Eyes wide as she turned back around, she was faced with the beautiful confused faces of each Heather. Clearing her throat “Guys did I tell you I got a pet?” chuckling nervously, praying they don’t think too much about what she shouted.
The first one to react was McNamara and she reached out her hands to hold the red chick while saying “Awwwww Heather, she’s red like you” while cooing at the baby bird. “Heather don’t touch it, you don’t know what it’s stepped on” Chandler replied after deeming what Veronica shouted unimportant. ‘She probably just thought Mac can reach the chick too’. Even though she had a nagging voice in the back of her mind saying Mac was farther from the chick.
“Heather’s right Heather, chicks typically just step on their shit” Veronica said to McNamara as she took the red chick back in her palms. With the talk of poop suddenly entering the conversation. Heather Duke visibly gagged and said “Heather please wash your hands first” McNamara replied while chuckling “Heather I do cheerleading in the field, sometimes the football players throw mud at us and we still had to keep practicing.” With the thought of Kurt and Ram possibly disrespecting a Heather, Chandler sneered with “If Dumb and Dumber do that again, I’ll make them regret it” McNamara chuckled nervously at the threat while Veronica and Duke rolled their eyes.
“So what’s the chick’s name?” Duke asked Veronica and now all the Heathers attention were once again on her. While any other day she would basked in the Heathers attention solely on her, eyes staying in contact for seemingly an eternity, right now was not ideal because Veronica was having a hard time thinking of a name. “C-Chicky” she stammered out in a hurry once she noticed the silence was taking too long, cursing herself in her thoughts for the poorly made name.
“Chicky? You named a red chick, Chicky?” Heather Chandler asked kinda offended while raising an eyebrow with McNamara following with “Yeah Veronica no offense but that’s kinda generic”. Heather Duke decided to chime in with “Honestly Veronica I thought you would give it a better name with the color and all-” suddenly Duke’s eyes widened and she whispered “Heather”
“What Heather?” both Chandler and McNamara answered. While Veronica’s eyes were panicking by the second at what Duke figured out. Duke was now smiling evilly at Veronica at what she thought was adorable but also something to tease her about for a while. “It’s Heather” Duke said to Chandler and McNamara. “ Heather you fucking pillowcase, what are you talking about?” Chandler said getting angrier by the second because Duke was not telling her something she wanted to know. Heather Duke sighed and rolled her eyes and said “The Chick’s name is Heather, not Chicky”
Each of the Heathers eyes were once again on Veronica for the third time that day while Veronica was staring back mentally preparing herself for the explanation she might do.
/ OG idea / Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6
#heathers#heathers the musical#heather chandler#heather duke#heather mcnamara#veronica sawyer#soon to be either#chansaw#dukesaw#mcnamawyer#chicks#they're all friends
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Rosehip tea and Hot chocolate!
Which book did you love when you were younger?:
My favorite book as a kid was The Secret Garden! My mom got it for me for Christmas one year and I loved it! I also used to love the Magic Treehouse books, and Eerie Indiana/Goosebumps (both of them gave me nightmares as a kid but I liked them nonetheless!)!
Do you have any stuffed animals in your room?:
I collect stuffed animals, I love them very much. My house is very small however so a lot of them are at my Nana's house (I love them tho 💖). I have 7 Squishmallows in my room- a big green dragon named Julius, a bat named Mina, a sea turtle named Herb, a chick named Chickie, a grasshopper named Melon, a crab named Carbohydrate, and my beloved owl Grimoire. I also have a huge unnamed turtle plush my best friend gave me, and my big round beanie baby elephant named Thunder! If it helps picture how many stuffed animals I own, I have 103 Squishmallows. I love them very much.
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Mixed Signals
Pairing: Dean x Reader
You were sitting in the library, plunking away on your laptop, searching for a case. After a couple of hours, you still hadn't found anything, but your stomach was growling from hunger. You went to the fridge to survey its contents. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing but Dean's last slice of pie, which you knew better than to touch, Sam's last yogurt and a few slices of moldy bread. Ugh, time to go on a supply run, you thought.
Dean was in the garage, tinkering with the Impala again. You let him know that you were running into town for some groceries, given the current state of the fridge. To your surprise, he asked you to wait while he washed his hands, because he wanted to go with you.
"Seriously, Dean? You never want to go on a grocery run, you just holler and tell me not to forget the pie. What gives?" you asked.
"Nothing 'gives', I'm just tired of being cooped up in the bunker. Besides, it gives me a chance to spend time with my best friend, on the highway, jamming to some tunes," he smirked.
"Fine, let's go," you relented. Best friend. That's how he sees you, but you see him as something more. You've had a crush on Dean for quite some time. It's been that way ever since Bobby sent you to assist the boys on that vampire hunt all those years ago.
Dean Winchester. His sexy green eyes, sharp yet usually stubbled jawline, perfectly kissable lips were what haunted your dreams every night. For you, though, it went beyond the physical. He was smart, kind, strong, tender and had a kick-ass sense of humor. He was highly protective of those most important to him, yourself included.
When you were with him, he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room, the only person. Problem was, that feeling was experienced by the countless women from the bar scene who happened to catch his eye. Judging by what walked out of his room the morning after, you knew you didn't measure up. For the moment, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind and focused on buying food for the bunker.
About an hour later, you and Dean returned from the store and hauled everything to the kitchen. Sam joined you shortly thereafter to help put things away. He told you and Dean that Sheriff Donna Hanscum had called while you were out. She asked you to call her back when you got home from getting supplies.
While you were putting things away, you called Donna back, putting her on speakerphone. "Hey there, Sheriff D, what have you got going on up there? How can we help?" you asked.
She went on to explain about crazy things happening in one particular house in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Lights flashing, hearing something scratching within the walls, beds shaking and flying objects.
You looked at Sam and Dean to see what they thought it might be. "We think it might be a poltergeist," you remarked. "We're on our way up to see you and then we can interview some witnesses. Over and out, chickie," you said as you ended the call.
Thirty minutes later and you were in the back seat of the Impala, headed up the highway to see Donna. Every so often, your eyes would wander to Dean as he tapped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music. Occasionally, his eyes would flick to yours in the rearview mirror, but by that time, you had dropped your gaze.
You had opened your book to start reading, when you heard Dean talking about what he was going to do post-hunt. "Since we'll be in the area, I'm going to head out to that little dive bar on the edge of town. Good music, good brews and hot chicks. Awesome combo, wouldn't you say, Sammy?" he asked.
Sam was so absorbed in his research that he hadn't heard Dean at first, but you had heard him. "Hmm? What? What'd you say, Dean?" he replied.
"Never mind," Dean muttered. His eyes drifted to you in the back seat. He saw you staring out the window, arms folded across your chest, your book open, but forgotten for the moment. For a brief second, Dean thought he saw a tear coursing down your cheek, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. He furrowed his brow to think that you may be upset about something. "You okay back there?" he asked you.
"I'm fine," you responded softly. You replaced your bookmark and snapped your book shut. You returned your attention to the scenery zipping by. After a while, your eyelids drifted closed, your light snores filling the quiet of the back seat.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dean looked back at you through the rearview mirror. He could tell by the gentle rise and fall of your chest that you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed, which he didn't see very often. You were always so busy taking care of things in the bunker for them, in addition to hunting. You barely had any time to yourself, what with research, laundry and keeping the boys well-fed.
When you did get a moment to do what you wanted, you usually ended up falling asleep in your book or to something on Netflix. Then he or Sam would prod you awake long enough for you to drag yourself to your room and fall back to sleep.
He took another look at you in the backseat. Your full, pink lips looked so cute, especially when they got all scrunched up as you research through the lore books. Your honey-and-green eyes seemed to sparkle when you found some obscure fact that helped to crack the case. He glanced down at your strong, yet delicate hands folded across your chest. He imagined what it would feel like to have them running over his body. That particular thought made Dean shift uncomfortably in his seat a little.
The Impala eased into a parking space in front of the Redstone Motel. Dean asked Sam to go get a room, while he tried to wake you up from your peaceful nap. He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. Suddenly, you stirred and as you turned your head, your lips brushed the back of his hand. This small action sent an electric shock to his system at the point of contact. Dean tried again to wake you by gently nudging your shoulder, and your eyelids fluttered open. "Hey," you said as you stretched and gave him a halfway-still-sleepy smile.
Dean chuckled. "Hey there, sleepyhead. Sam's getting us a room, then we'll have to change into our Fed suits to go meet with Donna," he explained. As if on cue, Sam returned to the car and told Dean which room you all would be in.
You got out of the Impala and retrieved your bag from the trunk. "They only had one room left, with two queen beds and a couch," Sam explained as you all walked into the room.
"Oh. I guess I'll take the couch then," you volunteered, a little disappointed at not having your own space. You went into the bathroom to get dressed in your Fed get-up. The outfit consisted of a white, button-down blouse, a navy blue pinstriped pencil skirt and black high heels. You ran your fingers through your hair, shaking it out, trying to add some fluff to it. A swipe of mascara, some lip gloss and you were good to go.
You looked over at Dean, who was having some trouble fixing his tie. "Here, let me help," you said as you took over. A swoop here, a tuck there and you cinched his tie in place around his neck. Being this close to Dean, you could smell his aftershave. It was so intoxicating, that you had to blink several times to keep your focus on fixing his tie. You nervously cleared your throat. "There. All better now," you teased.
Dean reached up with his hands to clasp yours and gently brushed his lips against them. "Thank you," he whispered. As you turned to get your FBI ID badge, Dean couldn't help but think of how sexy you looked, even if it was your Fed threads. Whoa, where did that come from? he silently wondered.
"You're welcome," you mumbled. Blushing furiously, you gave him a quick smile, put your FBI badge in your pocket and headed back out to the Impala. What the hell was that?!? you asked yourself. One minute I'm helping him fix his tie, the next minute he's kissing my hand?? I'm so confused, you inwardly groaned. By the time you had finished your internal monologue, Sam and Dean had returned to the car, and you were on your way to see Donna.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
At the station, Donna briefed you on what was happening at the house. It was a man and his two children that lived in the house where all of the strange things were occurring. His name was George Anderson, his daughter, Hannah was about 10. The baby of the family, Andrew, was about 7 years old.
You watched the family through the one-way glass. George was sitting on the edge of his chair, while Hannah and Andrew were drawing pictures in the corner. Donna came up behind you as you observed the situation. "What do you think?" she asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.
"Not sure yet," you murmured. "Why don't you let me go in there and talk to them? By myself," you suggested as you locked eyes with Dean. Donna shrugged and agreed, then unlocked the door for you.
You introduced yourself to George, who warmly shook your hand. Hannah immediately jumped up and rushed to her father's side, looking ready to do battle on his behalf. You reached out your hand to her for a handshake, but she ignored it and glared at you before going back to her drawing. Andrew briefly looked up at you with his big, brown eyes and then returned to his crayons.
As you and George talked, it was more of a conversation than an interrogation. You tried to put him at ease by slipping in a couple of jokes. It seemed to work, as he was more willing to talk about what was going on in his house. George even came back with some jokes of his own that made you laugh. It made Dean more agitated, because it looked to him like you were flirting with George. Fortunately, Donna was keeping an eye on Dean, which let you do what you needed to do.
You stood up to leave, then shook George's hand again, and this time Hannah allowed you to shake her hand. Before you made it to the door, you felt a tug on your skirt. You looked down and saw Andrew handing you his drawing. You knelt down to his level and studied the picture he had drawn. It looked like he was telling you about everything the poltergeist was doing in the house.
All of a sudden, you felt a searing pain in your head and a wave of dizziness crashed over you. It almost knocked you over, but you were able to regain your composure. You tried to return the drawing to the young artist, but he pushed it back to you, eyes wide with fear. You nodded at him in understanding, caressing his cheek to soothe the young boy. "Thank you very much, Andrew. I think this will help us so that we can help your family," you said softly. You handed George your business card, and asked him to call you if anything more happened.
George and his children left the station, and you relayed your conversation to Donna and the boys. For some reason, you thought Dean looked a bit annoyed with you about something, but you had no idea what. You all agreed to keep working on the case to try and figure out how to get rid of the poltergeist. On that note, you, Sam and Dean walked back out to the Impala.
As soon as you reached the car, Dean took hold of your arm. "What the hell was going on in that room?" he demanded.
You looked down at his hand on your arm, so he released it. "What do you mean, I was talking to George, trying to figure out what was going on in his house. What did you think I was doing?" you shot back.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe a bit of flirting going on? Laughing and telling jokes, cozying up to the kids. Why don't you just sleep with him and get it over with?" Dean retorted.
"DEAN!!" Sam yelled.
You reached up and slapped Dean across the face. "You jackass. How could you say something like that to me? Your so-called 'best friend'?? I was trying to gain his trust and that of his children. Something of mine that you're coming dangerously close to losing," you snapped. Tears threatening, you turned and stormed back into the station to ask Donna if you could bunk with her tonight.
"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded. "Why would you say that to her? You know how this works. What would you think if the situation was reversed and she came at you like that?" he asked.
Dean thought about it a minute. "I would think she was....Oh Chuck," he said softly. Dean looked over at his brother, who was smirking. "What, Sam? What?" he snapped.
"I knew it! You like her. You have feelings for her," Sam said in a sing-song voice.
Just then, you and Donna walked out from the station. Dean could see your eyes were all red and puffy, probably from crying. He tried to go over to talk to you, but Donna blocked his progress. "Not now, Dean. Talk to her later," she said forcefully.
"I just want to--" he started.
"I said not now, Dean. I'm going to take her back to your motel and get her bag. She's bunking with me tonight," Donna declared.
"We only have the one key, so we'll follow you and let her in," Dean said softly in defeat. Donna nodded, and you all took off for the motel.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at the motel, Sam gave you the key to let yourself in to get your bag. Dean stayed in the car, his forehead leaning on the steering wheel. He was still trying to make sense out of what happened outside of the police station. He wanted so badly to apologize to you for his accusations, that he knew you were only doing your job.
Is Sam right? Do I have feelings for her? he asked himself. He thought back to everything that's happened since the job started. From seeing you asleep in the back seat, your lips brushing his hand when he tried to wake you up. To helping him with his tie, his lips brushing your hands, seeing you in the interview room with George and the kids....to that awful accusation.
Dean looked up when he heard the doors on Donna's cruiser close. At least she's safe for the night, he thought. Sam went into the room, leaving the door open for Dean. He got out of the Impala and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Sam was in the shower by the time Dean came into the room.
When Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was just staring off into space. After Sam got dressed, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Look, Dean. I know you're upset about what happened earlier. Give her some time to cool off, it'll be fine. You'll apologize to her, and you'll go back to being best friends," he explained.
"That's just it, Sam. I don't know if I can go back to being just best friends. I think you were right. I was jealous of her and that guy. And she was so good with those kids, I just know she'd be an incredible mother. I wanted to be George, I want it to be our kids she's so good with," Dean finished.
At that moment, Sam's phone rang, with the display showing Donna was calling. "Hey, Donna, what's going on? Is everything okay?" he asked.
Donna frantically explained that while you and she were talking on the way to her place, that the pain in your head came back. This time, you had a vision of George and the kids. Objects were flying around, and when George tried to run with the kids to the front door, a lamp cord tripped him. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious. You could see the two terrified children crying, huddled together near their father, trying to get him to wake up.
You convinced her to do a drive-by to make sure everything was okay. The closer you got to George's house, the more intense the pain became in your head. That's how you knew something bad was going to happen, unless you took action. When you got there, you bolted out of Donna's cruiser before she could stop you.
"The front door opened for her, then it slammed shut. I tried to go in after her, but it was locked. She's trapped in there with that-that thing, those two babies and their father. Sam, Dean, you have to hurry, please!" she sounded close to tears.
"On our way, Donna," Dean affirmed, already in the car. Sam had his laptop open, reading some information about George's house. "Okay, here it is. The previous owner of the house was a man by the name of Lawrence O'Donnell, who died in 1913. There have been three or four other families that bought the house after he died. They all ended up selling the house when he started to terrorize them," Sam finished.
"Sounds like old Larry didn't want anyone to live in the house with him even after he was gone. So how do we kill it?" Dean asked.
"Salt and burn, just like normal. But we have to hurry. These are different than a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. Poltergeists don't care if they have the right person. They'll go after anyone and everyone," Sam finished.
Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel as he mashed down on the accelerator. Sam continued to research until he found out where Mr. O'Donnell was buried. Finally he found it, and gave Dean directions on which cemetery to go to.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at the house, you found a hiding place for the kids so they would be out of the way. Once that was done, you tended to George's head wound. The sleeve on your overshirt was torn a bit, so you ripped it off for a makeshift bandage. You told George just to stay there, that the kids were safe, but you were going to look around a little.
Your eyes started scanning the area, looking for hidden dangers. More power cords or some sharp object with the potential to fly across the room. You crawled towards the front door to see if you could open it and escape. Before you could put your hand on the knob, a vase came flying at you and you ducked just in time. It broke above your head, showering you with the broken pieces.
You shrank back to your previous position and felt in your back pocket for your phone. You managed to get connected to Donna and push the speakerphone button. But that victory was short-lived, as the phone was yanked out of your hand and went skittering across the floor.
The next thing you knew, you were flying across the room and being held in place on the opposite wall. You tried to move, but it was no use. A figure appeared in front of you, a man dressed in a Victorian-era suit and had a large handlebar mustache. His hands were inching towards you to grab your throat, when flames started to creep up and consume his body. His gut-wrenching screams filled the room, until he was completely gone.
You were no longer held to the wall, so you made your way over to the door to open it and let Donna in. She came rushing in and started to check you for injuries, but you waved her off and told her to check on George.
While the EMTs were assessing George's condition, you called for Hannah and Andrew to come out of hiding. You told them it was all over, and that their daddy was going to be okay. With tears in their eyes, they came running towards you and threw their arms around your neck. You held one in each arm, rubbing up and down their backs and whispering comforting words in their ears. You looked up and happened to catch George's eye, at which time he mouthed the words, "thank you".
The EMTs wheeled George out of the house, while Donna took one child in each hand and led them out to her car. You looked around the room, trying to come to grips with what happened here tonight. Silent tears streaked down your face as you realized just how wrong things could have gone. Among your last words to Dean were that he was a jackass and you had slapped him. If you somehow hadn't made it out alive tonight, you knew he would've blamed himself for all of it.
As if on cue, Dean burst through the front door, with Sam close behind. Dean rushed over to where you were standing, placed his hands on your shoulders and looked into your eyes. Without a word, he gathered you into his arms and held you close to his chest. It was then that you gave yourself permission to be comforted and sank into his embrace.
Tears flowed freely now, soaking his T-shirt. Dean kept a firm hold on you, whispering soothing words in your ear. He softly apologized over and over for what he'd said earlier outside of the police station. You drew back a little and placed a hand gently on his face where you had slapped him. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek to try and soothe away the hurt. You also hoped he knew that you weren't angry with him anymore.
"I'm so sorry, Dean," you started. "I shouldn't have--" he cut you off.
"Shh, that doesn't matter right now. I'm just glad that you and everyone else is okay," he replied. "You wanna get out of here?" he asked. You nodded. He kept an arm around your waist as he guided you out of the house and over to the car.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Donna took care of things on her end, and the kids were reunited with their father. You all got cleaned up and decided to go to the bar to celebrate another successful hunt. You were gathered around the pool table in the back, with you and Donna playing against Sam and Dean. The first round of drinks went down pretty fast, so you volunteered to go and get the next round.
You gave your drink order to the bartender and paid, leaving a few dollars for his tip. As you stood waiting for your drinks, a man sitting next to you started a conversation. He introduced himself, and you reluctantly did the same.
"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he slurred.
You rolled your eyes at such a lame pick-up line. "I'm here with a group of friends, and really not interested. I just want my drinks, okay?" you explained.
"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, you and me," he continued, this time stroking a finger down your arm.
"Listen. I tried to be nice about this, but here's the deal. Get your filthy hands off of me, leave me alone, or there's going to be a problem," you seethed. By this time, the bartender had made eye contact with Donna and silently signaled that you may need some help.
Dean came walking over and snaked his arm around your waist. "Hey there, sweetheart, what's taking so long?" he asked as he kissed your temple. The guy who had been hitting on you got up from his barstool and stumbled out into the night, mumbling under his breath.
"Thanks, Dean. I tried to tell that guy I wasn't interested, but he wasn't listening," you explained.
"Eh, all in a day's work," Dean replied. Sam and Donna had also come over to pick up their drinks and take them back to the pool table. For some reason, you and Dean kept hanging out at the bar for a bit.
"You know, you should be careful," you told him.
"About what?" he asked with a puzzled look on his face.
"That stunt you just pulled, pretending to be my boyfriend? You've probably ruined your chances of taking one of these lovely ladies back to the motel with you," you replied.
"There's only one lovely lady I'm interested in taking back to the motel with me," he said huskily. His arm snaked back around your waist, as he traced your jawline with his index finger.
You placed your drink on top of the bar and abruptly broke free of his embrace. Dean called out after you, but you kept running towards the door, out of the bar and into the cool night air. When you got to the Impala, you stopped and leaned up against the driver's side door. You tried to catch your breath, while simultaneously trying to collect your thoughts.
Dean caught up with you and was moving in towards you again, but you put your hands up. "Wait, Dean. Just a minute," you said.
"I don't understand. What just happened back there?" he asked.
"Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," you answered. "First, I hear you talking to Sam about picking up chicks in the bar. Next, you kiss my hand after I'm done fixing your tie, then you get upset at how I handled the witnesses. You're killing me with these mixed signals, Dean!" you exclaimed.
On a softer note, you continued. "You and I have been best friends for a very long time. But, Dean I have to tell you something....I'm in love with you," you blurted out. "I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your--" Dean cut you off by closing the gap between you and crashing his lips against yours.
"I love you too, sweetheart. Sorry it took me almost too long to figure it out, but I'm so glad I did," Dean replied softly. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, moving hungrily as if your lips were his last meal. Then he grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him, earning him a gasp of surprise from you.
"Dean?" you whispered as his lips trailed a series of kisses all over your neck. "Yeah, darlin'?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you think maybe Sam could stay at Donna's place tonight?" you asked. Dean stepped back to pull out his phone and sent Sam a quick text. "Done. Now where were we?" he grinned as he dipped his head to reclaim your mouth.
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Heart Shaped like Sea Glass
(First) (Previous) (Next) (AO3)
Part 8 - Reflected like Sunlight Against the Waves
Summary: Getting the human to do what needs to be done is harder than Daniel realizes. But each part of the process takes steps. And he’s willing to put forth the effort, so long as it gets him the results he needs, however long it takes.
// // // // //
It's not often that the sun comes out. But it's very often that it disappears back behind the clouds without a single word. Routine returns without another word. And not another word is mentioned as they settle back into fish and silence and the ever lingering darkness that follows with the changing of the seasons.
Daniel finds that he doesn't enjoy the silence that much anymore. But words are hard to coax out. Hard to lure out when he's scrabbling for a purchase as the human stares at him blankly from where he resides. He doesn't know too much about humans. Doesn't really want to get too close to them.
(A lie and a half.)
But now he's starting to... feel a little concerned. No, not worried, of course not. But he's a little concerned. Because the sun, or what little of the sun he used to see, is dipping down below the horizon faster and faster. There's a chill in the air that he can finally feel. A warning. He watches as the gulls around him begin to dwindle in number, their little eyes looking at him with a mild curiosity as he remains. A whisper draws his attention, but he pays the sea no mind. It's been awfully calm lately, strangely calm. But he doesn't have time to question the sea and why it decides to whisper instead of yell. There's more important things to consider.
For instance, if Daniel makes his seasonal trip to the warmer waters, where other humans are more likely to be easier meals, would the human here still be alive for him to feed when he returns?
Will the human remember to feed himself?
Will the human be able to care for himself?
Difficult, difficult questions that should not be questions.
On one hand, he could perhaps ask the selkie for a favor. Her little human lover could be of help. Maybe feed the human while he's away. He can even suggest which winter fishes to feed the human in order to satisfy his nearly nonexistent palette. And because she's a selkie, she's less than likely to show herself around the human.
But... she's also a selkie. A selkie who finds humans such curious creatures, despite her natural instinct suggesting she stay the fuck away from them. No no, it seems more so that her friendly nature wins out every time, and that's what keeps her from completely leaving her lover behind. Not only that, but her playful nature would make her endearing, which would make her convincing. Maybe she'd even convince the human to crave life instead of death! Awful, really.
No. He cannot depend on the selkie for help. She'd never leave him alone if he asked her lover to call her for help. And the old fool would oblige, because of course he would. Years and years of obsessing over eating the human managed to endear the siren to the old fisherman, when the old man should have felt fear instead. Daniel groans and rubs at his face. Humans make no sense. They should be fearing him - a siren! He's their natural predator. But of course not. He has one old fisherman that waves to him when he sits on his rock, and another human that practically begs for Daniel to eat him. An involuntary shudder shakes his feathers, and he finds himself fluffing himself out to better keep himself warm.
The weather is growing colder. And that means he has to leave soon. Which means...
Which means he needs to convince the human to take care of himself while he's gone.
He stands up, wings spread wide as he dashes across the waves and beats his wings for added momentum. Even as his feet touches the sand, he keeps up his pace and aims for the door. Just as he's about to tackle the door with the full force of his body, the door opens.
Goddammit.
A loud grunt greets him as he and the human crash and tumble onto the ground. Daniel squawks in shock as he pulls away from the tangle of limbs he finds himself in. The human takes longer to sit up, groaning as he rubs his head and shoots a half-assed glare at Daniel.
"Really?" Annoyed words leave the human as he continues to sit in place. "You got tired of kicking my door in, so now you wanna start slamming into me instead?"
"I didn't know you were going to open the door!" Daniel points at the empty bed and glares back. "Normally, I have to struggle to get your ass up and about! What made you suddenly decide to get up now?!"
"Well, I heard you coming and thought, 'Gee, maybe I should just invite him in instead of letting him break my door,' and what do I get for trying to be polite? An aching back and a puffed out siren."
Daniel grumbles as he tries to relax, pulling his wings back close to his body. "I didn't ask you to open the door."
"Yeah, well, I shoulda realized that sirens don't have manners."
"I have manners!"
"In a manner of speaking." The human ignores his outraged cry and stands up to stretch. Looking around, the human tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly. "What? No fish?"
"No." Daniel gets up and dusts himself off as he remembers why he came here in the first place. "I can't keep feeding you like this. You need to take care of yourself."
"Stellar idea." The human turns on his heel and begins crawling back into his bed. "I'm going to take care of myself by never waking up."
Irritation creeps through Daniel as he clears his throat. It's not his favorite thing to do, but it's the only thing that works. "You can't keep doing this-" He hesitates for a moment, realizing he doesn't even know the human's name. However, the gentle tone and higher pitch is enough to get the human to freeze in place. "I wish you'd take care of yourself... It makes me so sad seeing you like this."
"Dave..." The human slowly turns to Daniel, tears in his eyes. "Davey."
Their eyes meet for a moment. The smell of heartbreak grows stronger by the minute, and Daniel heaves a sigh through his nose as he drops the voice. "He'd want you to take care of yourself."
"Y... no, why do you care?"
"I can't be around to feed you all the time." He crosses his arms as the human sits on his bed. The brunette's head droops as he focuses his gaze on the wooden floor. "You need to start feeding yourself. Or at least, attempt to care for yourself. Maybe that will change your attitude enough to make me want to eat you."
"I do want to get eaten."
"Then fucking eat. Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?"
"No, absolutely not." The human's face scrunches up as he thinks. "Do sirens do that thing that birds do to feed their babies? Davey told me once that they uhhh, digest food and then spit it back up into their kids' mouths."
"I can show you, it's quite easy actually-"
"Nononononono, absolutely NOT." He stands up quickly and waves his hands in front of him. "You already tried to shove worms into my mouth, I do NOT need bird spit up in my mouth instead!"
"It's actually more complex than that. Look, it's easier if I just show you-"
"Hey, how about we start working on that 'feeding myself' thing, yeah? Instead of you puking up your last meal to 'show me' or whatever."
"I was going to show you one of these days, since you insist on acting like a little chick." Daniel smirks as the human gags. "Little chicky food for the little chicky baby."
"Gross!"
"I'll be happy to resort to it if you insist on making me continue to feed you."
"I'd rather eat the worms, thanks."
"How about I get some right now, just so you have the chance?"
"No, keep your dirty worms to yourself." As the human continues to cringe, Daniel takes a closer look around the one-roomed shack. The fisherman uses a fishing pole or whatever to catch his meals. He looks around and spies nothing of the sort. Actually, the more he looks around, the more he realizes that the human simply has... nothing. There's a bowl or two, sure, the roasting sticks, some logs of wood that the human must have dragged from somewhere, a single plate, a knife that's duller than his talons, and old, drying fish scales littering the floor.
There's nothing in here. Nothing but a bed and a human and a sad excuse of a living space. Even Daniel's cave looks more luxurious than this travesty!
"...How did you feed yourself before I came here?"
"Uhh." The human looks around at his empty shack and shrugs. "I traded most of my things away."
"...Why?"
"I didn't have a use for them anymore." The brunette rubs his arm slowly, as if the reality of his home begins to dawn on him. "I mean, I kept a few bare essentials. But I was considering trading the bowls for something too before you came here. I don't have money. Everything I arrived with is gone to someone else. And..." He shrugs as he looks at Daniel. "It's not like I had anything worth keeping."
(A painful thought tries to surface, but Daniel shoves it down. Not here. Not now. He doesn't want to... relate.)
"So," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you have nothing to get you more food. No tools, no money, nothing of worth."
The human hesitates. "Well..." He kneels beside his bed and carefully pulls out an object.
An... instrument? Daniel's seen those before, on ships that would pass by in the warmer waters. He's never seen one so up close before. The human strokes the instrument gently, refusing to look up as he gazes at it almost wistfully.
The scent of rot almost... lightens as he sighs.
"This belonged to Davey. It's the only thing I have left."
"Can you play it?"
"What?" The human looks up in surprise as Daniel settles down in front of him.
"I said, can you play it?"
"I-" He glances between the instrument and Daniel as the blonde focuses his attention on the instrument in front of him. It looks to have... many strings on it. He loses count after the tenth or so string. But the body of the instrument reminds him of a drop of water, and that's enough to have him tilting his head in interest.
"Play it?"
"I don't uh, I don't know how."
"Unbelievable. Fingers are wasted on you."
"You have fingers too!"
"Yes, with talons." He flexes his hands out in front of the human to emphasize his point. "I can't make music with my hands like you humans can. Only with my voice." A little bit of bitterness enters his voice as his wings slowly curl around his sides. "My songs would be perfect with a bit of instrumental backing."
"You really care about your songs being perfect."
"Of course!" He puffs his chest out proudly as he smirks at the human. "It's how I lure desperate idiots like you to become my meals."
(And it's how he passes the time. How he fills the emptiness all around him with something. Fills the air with nonsensical noise so that he doesn't feel alone. Drowns out the ocean's cries and the faint whispers from his memories. It's all he has. It's all he's ever had.)
"Well, you're not wrong." The human idly plucks at the strings, plucking the siren's interest in turn. "But I honestly don't know how to play this."
"Just do what you're doing. It doesn't have to make sense." Daniel just wants to hear something new for once. A little nonsense doesn't hurt, after all.
"...Sure."
The human plucks at the strings, strums a bit, before returning to random plucking. Musical notes jumble together in a strange pattern as the brunette gets a feel for the instrument. It's nothing special. It's nothing interesting. But it's something relaxing. Daniel sighs softly as he watches the human's fingers wander the many strings on the instrument, closing his eyes as he listens to the idle noise.
"...Davey used to play me songs all the time."
Daniel keeps his eyes closed as he nods along. "Mmm."
"He'd always come up with new songs. Most of the time, they were just silly tunes about whatever he saw that day. Like the trees swaying in the wind. Or the stars sparkling at night. Sometimes, he'd make songs at our friend's behest. Something like, 'Gwen isn't your mother, so stop asking her to fix your clothes for you'. That one was always one of my favorites."
"Mmhm."
"He loved the hell out of this thing. Said it was the best gift I'd ever given him. Well, second to best gift."
Daniel opens his eyes wordlessly as he focuses on the human's sad smile.
"My very best gift to him was my love, or so he said."
"...What about you?"
"Hm?" The human stops plucking at the strings to focus on Daniel.
"What did he give you in return for your gifts?"
"...His smiles. His laughter." The human's eyes grow watery, but not a single tear sheds as Daniel watches. "I loved seeing him happy. I'd do anything to see him shine brighter than the sun and the stars. I thought that I wouldn't need anything else in the world. Just him, and his sweet, bright smiles."
They both look down at the instrument held tenderly in the human's hands. Bright smiles and happy laughter are long gone now, Daniel thinks. But the memories remain. So maybe, not all is lost. The instrument, despite how the loss of its owner still affects him, garners positive emotions from the human. He smells less like rot, which is good. But nothing else comes from him. No sweet scent of happiness, no fragrant scent of wistfulness. Nothing but rot, though the scent is a little weaker than usual.
So. It's a start.
"Keep the instrument."
"What?" The human looks up at him with shock. Daniel rolls his eyes as he continues.
"Keep the instrument. It obviously will give you something to do in this empty excuse of a shack."
"I guess but-" The brunette looks around at the noticeable lack of food. "I don't have anything else to trade."
"So then, what? You're going to trade away your beloved's beloved instrument?"
The human hugs it closer to his chest. "...I refuse."
"Good." Daniel stands up with a grin and heads towards the door. "At least you have some semblance of life in you. That'll make you tastier to devour."
"But what about the food?"
"I'll just catch fish until you figure something out." He shrugs as he pauses by the door, a thought returning to him as he studies the human still seated with the instrument. "By the by, what the hell is your name?"
The human squints at him suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"
"To perfect my song, obviously." He rolls his eyes. "Makes it more personal, more intimate. More believable. I thought you wanted to drown in your delusions just a little bit more? If I make my songs more palatable to you, then maybe you can finally experience the ounce of joy needed to make me consider eating you."
"My name-" The human cuts himself off, frowning as he looks away from Daniel. He considers a little bit too long as Daniel snaps from where he stands.
"Well? What's your name? Or do you not have one?"
"I have one," he says calmly, not looking at Daniel, "but I'd rather not give it to you."
"Why the hell not?"
"I don't want you to grow attached." The human glances at Daniel before returning his attention to the instrument. "It'd be harder for you to eat me if you know my name, right? I wouldn't be another nameless human you want to eat. I'd be that guy you know, that guy who's name you'll say everyday like it's commonplace. You'll get attached, and then you'll reconsider making good on your promise to eat me. Better for us both if you don't know it."
He blinks. Once. Twice. Dumbfounded, almost. He didn’t think he’d be rejected being told a name. His chest twists into knots as his fist trembles by his side.
Daniel swallows hard as he glares at the human's head.
"Fine."
(He's not disappointed. He's not.)
The human flinches at his hard reply, but before he can get another word out, Daniel races out towards the sea.
He hears the ocean whisper, but he ignores it in favor of diving into the waves. And for once, the ocean welcomes him with a pitying embrace.
Pathetic, he thinks, as he lets himself sink. How truly pathetic.
#camp camp#cc daniel#cc jasper#siren au#these are becoming less and less like drabbles#and more and more like actual chapters#fjksdfh#oh man#this chapter is just a big ol joke on the two of them#come on guys#you're killing me#say your names its not that hard#what is hard is constantly using titles#you guys dunno how many times i've slipped up and just had them call each other their names#when they don't even know yet#what losers#ice breaker time baby!!
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Names I call my chickens
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Chick-peas
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