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newobsessionweekly · 4 years

Text

The pain she left behind

Title: The pain she left behind

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader, Jack x Platonic!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: language, character death, grieveing, Dean crying, angst, death, a little bit of explicit content, violence, fluff, spoilers s14

Prompt 1: Loving me is a death sentence.

Prompt 2: We found each other. That’s all that matters.

A/N: This is my enterance for SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. I don’t usually write and all that, but I wanted to try something new and I don’t know... I tried my best, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag: @supernatural-jackles

Something Dean has told himself and everyone around when they asked, is that he doesn’t need that in his life. He doesn’t need love, he doesn’t need to find a girl; he tried that before and it didn’t work out. But what he needs is to have his mind clear, focused on cleaning America from monsters, he needs to keep his family safe. But he failed, he met you and all his life was turned upside down. And sometimes he regrets the day they met you, because now, you are just too hard to forget.

Laying on the kitchen floor, heavily breathing from the enormous weight that’s pressing on his chest, Dean’s playing with a bottle of beer, switching it annoyingly from one hand to another over and over again, just as you’re switching in his head, from one memory to one another. He locked himself in his room for the past 3 days, binge watching some random horror movies wanting to wash away the need to cry, to scream, and beg God to bring you back to him, but it was pointless, he still cried himself to sleep. So he decided it’s time for something stronger; he needs to be back in tracks as soon as possible and be ready to fight the monster that took you away, there’s no time to grieve.

“Dean!” Sam yelled his name again while descending the stairs to the kitchen, abruptly snapping him from his memories of you.

He refuses to answer, he refuses to talk to anyone and Sam understands it, because he feels the empty space you left in their lives too, but he’s maybe more afraid than Dean to show it. Sam wants to be strong for his brother, he wants to be there for him, especially these days. Only the third time after hearing his name, Dean bothered to look up at his younger brother and allow him to see all the broken pieces of his heart spread all over the place.

“Sammy, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Dean’s voice is rough and shaky, tears threatening to burst in any moment and Dean’s aware that he’s going to lose it soon, but still hoping that Sam will not be around.

“Dean, you have to – “

“I don’t have to do anything today.” He raised his index finger and stopped Sam, then he pointed to the fridge: “Now pass me another beer and leave.”

Sam did so and Dean thanked him with just a movement of his head, before turning his attention to the abandoned metallic box full of memories from his lap. A bunch of photos with Sammy, some with his mom and dad, few with his friends that soon became family, and even fewer with you. Dean doesn’t like photos that much, he’s not that kind of guy who’d let himself be photographed everywhere and every time, but now he wishes he was that kind and wishes he’d have done a lot more photos beside you. There are only six instant photos of you, with a red ribbon wrapped around them; six, one for every anniversary and one from the first proper Christmas the Winchesters ever had.

He’d have wanted to be that stupid kind of men and take photos of you everywhere: in your favourite pyjamas, curled up in a chair from the library with a leg under you, so deeply focused in research, trying so hard to fit in with his life; standing in front of a pan in the mornings when Sam would be out of town, only in your beautiful underwear, moving your hips while making breakfast for him; curled up in a soft, warm blanket on a chair, sound asleep far too many hours before Sam and Dean would come home after so many weeks of being away.

“Dean!”

You jumped from one of the chairs on the war room at the sound of the bunker’s door loudly opening. You almost caught roots on that place waiting for Dean and Sam to show up. You woke up alone this morning, no sight of any of the brothers or your angelic friend so you waited and waited before panic started to grow inside of you. You prayed to Cas and asked him if something happened, you started to pace around the war room when no answer was coming and then you sat on that chair and wondered what the hell happened with everyone. Bad scenarios running through that beautiful mind of yours and you were preparing for the worst.

But you were never prepared for what entered that door; Sam, Dean and Cas were fighting over heels to carry a giant fir tree, you could bet it is even taller than Sam. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Dean, all covered in snow and sweat beads painting his forehead, trying his best not to drop the lower part of the tree.

“What happened? Are you ok? How hard did Sam hit you in the head?” You tried to hide the fact that you were scared as hell with a sarcastic tone, and thankfully Dean bite it, but Cas not so much, because he was throwing you Cas-type of awkward glances.

Dean always rejected the idea of having a proper and normal holiday celebration so as you skipped Halloween, again, you pleaded and pleaded, every night and every day to celebrate at least Christmas, your favourite holiday. But a week or two ago, you gave up when you saw you were getting not even a negative response to your question.

Library was transformed and instead of two big and cold tables with some uncomfortable chairs around, there was a long table decorated with two beautiful candlesticks and little angels and snowflakes. The dish was prepared by Dean with a little help from you, and all around the bunker were hanged beautiful lights, some Santa figurines and angels. Christmas tree was decorated by you and Dean who got involved in this holiday celebration thing more than you even expected.

Sitting around the Christmas tree, after everybody praised the food, you were smiling proudly to have these special people around you. Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience and Kaia are your second family, and every time Sam and Dean would leave for a serious case, they’d prefer you to stay with the girls. Not because they don’t trust you, just because they’d be more peacefully than knowing you home alone so many days in the bunker. You and Alex became very good friends especially because none of you is hunting. Your boyfriend wants to keep you out of this life as much as possible and is trying to make everything as normal as he can.

Dean ripped you from your thoughts when he wrapped his hand around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. You smiled at him excitedly and then exchanged presents with the girls. Then you gave Jack his present, a blue sweater to match yours, and he sadly looked at you. You panicked a little when you saw his face and your body strained, catching Dean’s attention.

“Why are you sad? You don’t like it?” you asked Jack.

“No,no! I love it!” he immediately said, stopping you from making films inside your head. “But I didn’t know we were buying each other gifts. I thought only Dean was supposed to buy you a present, because he’s your boyfriend.”

“Oh, so Dean bought me a present, huh?” you turned to look at your boyfriend and showed him your most beautiful and mischievous smile. “Sam, you really should tell me with what you hit him in the head because it may use me too in the future.”

Everyone laughed at your joke and Dean could swear he had never seen you so happy in his life. He knows Christmas is your favourite holiday and he and Sam were always preoccupied with hunting and saving the world to even think about these holidays, but you understood and never complained. You anyway got to celebrate it at Jody’s place, so you never said anything to Dean, mostly because it was pointless; you loved Dean so much and you accepted him as he is, you accepted his life and embraced it, though he kept you at a secure distance from his life, especially to protect you, and offered you a life as normal as possible, but it was impossible after a certain point ...

Sam watched Dean from distance as he flipped through the Polaroids, with tears cascading on his cheeks, knotting under his chin and loud sobs shaking his body in pain. It breaks Sam’s heart, but he needs it, he needs to cry, to express his feelings, to get it over his chest, even for a moment.

Jack accompanied Sam and Cas and watched over Dean, but they stopped themselves to intervene when a bottle of beer loudly crashed on the floor and wetted everything around. All three of them startled when the sound reached their ears, but they stood still.

It was odd for Dean to break like that in a place where anyone could enter any moment, but nothing was normal anymore, it wasn’t normal for him to lose like that the love of his life, so he allowed himself to do all sorts of strange things in order to calm down even for a second.

“Deano!” you giggled happily in his ear as your body embraced him from behind, your naked body combined with his, just as clothless as yours. It is barely eight and he would probably curse for the rest of the morning if your plan on waking him up will work. It is your fifth anniversary and after long and deep talks with Sam, you decided it’s time to do a little more today.

After you prepared your special breakfast while Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter giving you small advices here and there, he decided to leave you two alone, teasing you, saying you can be as noisy as you please.

You leaned over him and pressed your lips on his back, chaotically tracing kissed all over his shoulders and going up to his neck and cheeks and then right back from the beginning. Leaving wet spots all over his body, Dean rolled on his back, making you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing firmly on his chest.

“Well, that is a very interesting way to wake me up, sweetheart.” Dean yawned and looked at you first only with his right eye, then with his left one, finding it very hard to keep them both open.

You are a simple couple, but more like an old married couple who just puzzle up one another like you’ve known each other for your whole lives. Dean and you as well are not the kind to celebrate and do big stuff about it, just cooking together a breakfast, finally making time for you in such a long time and mostly spending the day together, talking and fixing the problems that you encountered on the way. You are just communicating, that’s your celebration. And this is all you need. But this morning, Dean felt it’s going be a little different. He can smell the breakfast already cooked and he frowned at the smell of fresh, hot coffee.

He kissed you with love, cupping your cheek and rubbing his finger over it, as he always does when he wants to melt your heart, because he knows your weaknesses so well. You cuddle in a little more before you decided to get out of bed and eat your breakfast, stalling a bit to telling one more time – or ten more times – how much you love each other.

“I wanted to spoil you today.” You told him as you put your underwear on and wrapped the red satin robe, the one Dean loves, around your body.

“You know what –“ Dean begins, chewing loudly his bacon. “I’ve been thinking –“ he stops again, sipping his coffee, giving you appreciative sounds as in he’s enjoying very much the coffee you made.

“Oh, no! Always ends bad when you’re thinking.” You teased him and laughed so hard when he gives you the Winchester bitch face. “Ok, we are serious this morning. I’m listening.”

“I was thinking... maybe we should get married.” He says.

Your heart stops at the sound of his words and you almost choke with coffee, slightly coughing to get lost the lump that formed in your throat. You dreamed of marrying Dean from the first moments when you met him. He’s exactly what you’re looking for in a man, he is smart, funny and you can feel his love for you, though he doesn’t show it that much. You love him terribly much and never crossed your mind that this day would come, despite the fact you wanted it so bad. You understand that his life is dangerous, complicated and he doesn’t have time for this kind of things in the first place. You never thought about changing a thing about him or his life and never said anything, because nothing bothered you in the first place. Dean loves you, Dean treats you so right and protects you that you never needed anything and accepted him with his good and a little less good things without questioning, because it is a part of loving.

You adore him with every inch of your being, and the fact that he thought about marring you shocked you, that for the first time, you couldn’t get the words find your mouth. He looked at you, still chewing his food, but he had more of a worried look.

“Ar-are you sure?” you asked and he grabbed your hand over the table and caressed your soft skin.

“Yes, I am a hundred percent sure.” He frowned a little before he continued: “You?”

“Yes!” you immediately responded, leaving no place for any other thoughts. “Yes, I want to marry you, Dean Winchester.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He chuckled and pressed his lips over yours, and then over your forehead. “I discussed with my mom about it, when she was around... She gave me her ring.”

He excitedly bit his bottom lip and then he told you to wait for him, just rising his index finger and then hurried over your bedroom. You smiled like a fool and your stomach flipped almost painfully just at the thought that he discussed this with his mother, especially knowing how important his mother was.

He came back too soon and ripped out of your thoughts and he shyly asked for your hand. Dean placed the ring on your ring finger and you kissed him so many times, as he dragged you on his lap.

You planned your wedding to be something simple, just a dinner with some friends at the bunker, but soon enough, it turned out to be a dinner with all of your friends at the bunker. You are wearing a simple white casual dress and Dean is wearing his FBI costume, nothing fancy, because fancy was never the Winchester style.

“I am not good at words, especially not at speeches.” He paused a little and everyone laughed. “But I need to say that I love you to death, Y/n Winchester! And I am so grateful that we found each other, that’s all that matters. “

“I love you to death, Dean Winchester!”

And you indeed loved him to death.

In Dean’s head was repeating over and over again the way your body collapsed into the ground, as the last tears fell onto your cheeks when your eyes shut closed. Dean could imagine only a quarter of the pain you left the world with, but he never understood your enormous love for him, not even in your last moments when you looked at him and told him how much you love him.

As Chuck paced the grass and waited, you stand still as you had the gun He gave to you pointed at Jack. The nephilim is dangerous, he is a monster and must be stopped.

“Y/n!” Sam and Dean shouted as they came running towards you. “Y/n, no!”

“I understand...” Jack said, looking up to you from where he stayed on his knees, Sam and Dean calling your name in the background. “I know what I’ve done.”

“No, no, no, no! Y/n!” your husband came running to you, but he stopped as he heared your voice:

“Stay back, Dean!” you said, looking at Jack.

“And you were right, all along. I am a monster.” Jack said.

“Do something!” Dean told Chuck, but he frowned when He shushed him. “Are you enjoying this?”

You took the safety off as you overheard their conversation and looked at Jack one more time; he was standing in his knees in front of you, with his hands folded on his lap, looking innocently at you. He is just a kid, he’s no monster. You frowned; all of this is just Chuck’s plan. You put the safety back on and lowered the gun, throwing it away on the grass.

“No,no! Pick it up!” Chuck said and approached the two of you and Jack looked at him with a frowning painted on his face. “Pick it up! This isn’t how the story is suppose to end!”

“The story?” Castiel asked.

“Look at the Gathering Storm, the gun... this is epic!”

“Wait what are you saying?” Dean asked Chuck, moving his sight from you to Him.

“He’s saying that he’s been playing us...” Sam responded and Chuck sighs “...this whole time.”

“Come on – “ Chuck started but he’s been interrupted by Sam:

“Our entire lives... mom, dad, everything. This is all you, because... you wrote it all, right? Because... because, what? Because we’re your favourite show? Because we’re part of your story?”

“Y/n, no offense, but your brother-in-law is stupid and crazy. This kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun.” You looked at the gun but didn’t make any move. “Pick is up. Pull the trigger. And I’ll bring her back. I’ll bring Mary back.”

Everyone’s faces fell contemplatively, and you really thought about it as a possibility. Jack moved his looking to you and tried to understand what were you thinking.

“No!” Dean responded immediately.

“I’m not talking to you, Dean. I know how much you want this for Dean, because you love him so much and you want him to be happy and all crap. So pull the trigger and I’ll bring her back.”

“No.” You said and Chuck frowned.

“My mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this, she would not want this for Y/n. She wouldn’t want for her to have her hands stained with innocent blood and live with the thought of killing someone innocent, someone she loves so much, for the rest of her life. And it’s not like you even really care, ‘cause Sam’s right. The Apocalypse, Lucifer and Michael, you knew everything that was going on. So why the games, Chuck? Huh? Why don’t you just snap your fingers and end it?”

”Look...” Chuck started, but he was again stopped by Sam.

“And every other bad thing we’ve been killing, or dying over...” he scoffed. “Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer? So we can do this over and over and over again? Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!”

“Y/n, don’t do this – “ Chuck said, but no one let Him finish one sentence.

“No, we’re done talking. ’Cause this... this isn’t just a story... it’s our lives! Leave my wife alone. So God or no God, go to hell!” Dean said, both of the Winchesters having their serious faces put on, while chuck smiled mischievously in the corner of the lips.

“Have it your way!” He said, then snapping his fingers.

Everybody watched as your body collapsed lifelessly into the ground, and Dean shouted your name, but the pain was too deafening. Everyone was shocked, and Sam reacted as adrenaline was pumping in his body. He picked up the gun and drunken in pain, he shot Chuck in order to kill, for you, for his best friend. Unfortunately, he shot God in shoulder, and Sam as well felt a killing pain in his shoulder.

Dean cried his pain out of his body, his soul and he tried to cry you out of his mind too, but it was too hard. He tried to erase that hurtful memory of you, but it just wouldn’t get off, it would play over and over again, just to kill him slowly and slowly every second. He broke down one more time, loudly sobbing and frantically shaking his body.

Sam ran towards him and crashed beside him, Sam as well having tears staining his cheeks at the sight of his big brother broken like this. There were too many bottles of beer drunk and Dean was not feeling alright at all. Sam’s arms moved around Dean’s body and embraced him, trying not to let him broke into pieces.

“It’s alright, Dean! I’m here. I’m here, Dean!” Sam shushed him and tried to keep him from shaking.

“Everyone around me is getting hurt and they are dying, Sammy. Loving me is a death sentence, Sammy.”

“Dean... listen to me!” Sam cupped his cheeks and moved his head from his shoulder so that he can look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, look at me. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, alright? Y/n loves you from a better place, alright? I bet you’re gonna get into the same heaven someday, alright?” Dean slowly nodded his head and looked at Sam between the eyelashes, finally he stopped crying. “Let’s go get your strength back and we’re going to kill that son of a bitch, alright?” Dean nodded again and let Sam put him to bed, hoping maybe it will hurt less tomorrow.

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holdyourfire · 4 years

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taylir gar Tracyn

hold your Fire (Mando’a)

A/N: This is a fic based around a pre-TFA Poe. He’s been assigned to a mission with someone he doesn’t really like by Leia. This has been sitting in my head since January, and I’ve finallyyy written it out. It’s a long one, multi-chaptered of course. It’s not a Poe x Reader fic though I know that’s more popular than Poe x OC. Also it’s written from Poe’s POV.

Rating: Pretty much General for the first part but heads into a mature range in later chapters.

Tags: Poe x OFC, hurt/comfort, angst, massive slow burn, pining, eventual fluff, Mandalorians, enemies to friends to...,

Warnings: mild sexual content, panic attacks, minor character death.

Extra note: I suggest watching The Mandalorian if you’re interested by this fic. It does contain spoilers for the show.

Chapter 1 - Fire

1.5k words

***

Poe, smeared in grease and covered in sweat, was fiddling with his X-Wing’s engine, as he usually would in his rare periods of free time.

Snap was across the path on the other side of the landing area, working on his own ship.

BB-8 was whirring around the two starfighters, assisting when needed.

He was so focused in the task at hand, that when his little droid purposely crashed into his leg, Poe turned on him in a fury, prepared to scold.

But, anything he’d been about to say was interrupted by the droid swivelling his body sideways to point out a figure heading towards them.

“Dameron!”

It was Kaydel Connix.

As she jogged towards him, she tripped over a stray wire trailing from a power-unit.

Poe struggled to fight back a smile as he heard Snap snort behind him.

‘Collected-Kaydel’, not so collected after all, huh? Poe thought, a grin finally escaping him.

Kaydel scowled, seeing him watching her approach. “The General sent me to come and find you,” she snapped. “Apparently, you’re forgetting something?”

His grin disappeared.

Shit.

“Did you really forget another meeting?” Snap called from across the path.

Damn it, that man’s ears are too sharp. Poe shot an annoyed look at his friend.

“They really should demote you,” Snap continued, blind to Poe's obvious irritation.

“Well,” Poe yelled back, “at least I’ve never sh-”

“Quit it you two,” Kaydel said, disrupting whatever dirt Poe had been about to spill. “You need to be at the General’s workstation twenty minutes ago.”

She turned away dismissively, heading back to where she’d appeared from.

“Yeah! Get moving nerve-burner,” Snap sneered, clearly delighted with the situation.

Poe just flipped him off as he desperately shed his bulky tool belt onto the gravel under him. BB-8 trilled questioningly as Poe began to run towards the underground admin sector.

“No buddy, you stay here with Snap. I’ll see you after dinner!” he called over his shoulder.

He frantically made his way to General Organa’s workstation, dodging people, stumbling down stairs and hurdling the occasional crate, swearing under his breath the whole time.

By the time he reached, he was out of breath. He burst into the workstation with a jumble of excuses.

“Sorry General! I forgot about this, I was with Snap- I mean Temmin, it’s really kinda his fault I’m late, he’s very, uh...”

Poe trailed off as he took in his general’s exasperated but entertained expression, before noticing another figure in the room. He shuffled his feet, frowning, suddenly self-conscious of his sweaty, grease-stained appearance.

“Commander Dameron, I’m sure your friends have told you that you’re not a good liar?”

Not waiting for the indignant response that was about to come, she continued.

“This is Commander Avara Deccol,” she said, gesturing to the unknown figure.

Poe shifted his focus to the newcomer.

“She has recently joined the Resistance as a weapons expert and spy.”

Deccol nodded curtly and Poe returned the gesture stiffly.

Sharp eyes, dark-ish skin. Her short, curly hair was flat against her head as if she’d been wearing a cap or helmet. It reminded him of his own hair whenever he pulled off his own flight helmet.

He had to admit to himself, she was pretty cute.

She was wearing a scuffed piece of armour with some symbol carved in the metal, on her right shoulder.

Deccol was observing him as carefully as he was her. Her face was expressionless as she watched him. Posture was perfect, almost like a soldier standing at attention. Poe got the impression that’s how she always held herself. Her hand rested on her hip- no, not her hip.

It was rested on an empty holster, where a blaster would be.

Is that a habit... or is she trying to be intimidating? he wondered. At least she’s shorter than me, way shorter. The top of her head would have barely reached his chin. Thank the Maker.

This was a sore point for him, due to his squadron’s incessant teasing. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his dirty orange flight-suit and pursed his lips very slightly, trying to appear unbothered as he held Deccol's unflinching gaze.

As he continued to scrutinise the new commander with his keen eyes, General Organa had turned to address Deccol. “Commander Dameron here is my best pilot. That’s why I picked him as your partner for the mission.”

“Mission?” Poe asked, focus instantly shifting to Leia, bothered he didn’t know what was going on and that the newcomer clearly did. “What mission?”

“Slow down, Poe. You’re needed for this mission because incredibly swift piloting will be required. Avara, you have been picked because I trust Maz Katana’s instincts. If Maz believes that a person is right for a specific job, then they are. Plus, she said you were the best shot she had ever seen. Good marksmanship is always valued.”

Poe’s brows furrowed. Best shot?

Beside him, the new commander ducked her head slightly at the praise.

“Your mission,” Leia continued, “will consist of several tasks. I cannot stress how important they will be to the downfall of the First Order. These tasks will include intelligence collection and assassinations.”

“Avara, that’s where you come in.”

She’s an assassin? What the-

“It’ll be mostly First Order officials, as many as our agents can locate. Poe, before you ask, yes, BB-8 may join you. It’ll be a long mission.”

Poe smiled slightly.

Leia always knew what he was thinking. Whether it was because she was capable in the force, or just because he'd grown up knowing her, he didn't know.

The general walked behind her desk, fetching something from a drawer. A holoprojector. She passed it to Deccol, who examined it, squinting closely, flipping it several times in her hands.

“It’s been altered," the newbie said slowly. "For long-distance transmissions?” Deccol asked, holding it out to Poe without looking at him.

Oh, is she a holoprojector expert too? Within second Poe’s annoyance had elevated again.

He almost snatched it from her, fuming. I've barely known her a minute and she's already infuriating. Is that even possible?

“Yes, and to be undetectable. This is how you two will be receiving your tasks. Only after you leave the base, will you get your first mission. This is, naturally, to preserve confidentiality.”

Both commanders nodded seriously. This, they understood.

“You two don’t know each other, but I expect you both to be smart enough to know you have to work together." Leia looked at Poe pointedly. "No petty squabbling or fighting.”

Poe internally rolled his eyes.

“You two will be leaving tomorrow at sundown. Poe, as the pilot, you’ll be picking a ship suitable for you both, but most importantly, suitable for the mission.”

Leia looked from Poe to Deccol, studying them for a second.

“Commander Deccol, my assistant, Kaydel, will show you to the mess hall. It’s almost dinner,” Leia said. “You can go, I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

Both commanders turned to the door.

“Poe, wait. I want a word.”

Poe waited until Deccol had disappeared from view, speaking quickly before Leia could.

“Am I really just going to be the pilot for this mission?”

“Poe,” she sighed. “Listen. Deccol is new to the Resistance, whereas you are not. You know how we operate, I expect you to show her our way. However, you will be respectful.”

So, the usual lecture then.

“I know what you can be like if you’re not particularly keen on someone," she sighed, rubbing her forehead for a second.

"Unfortunately, I get the feeling Avara is like that too. She is prideful and definitely not the sort of person to ignore an insult,” she said, continuing to make her point. “You both are experts in your own fields and you will listen to each other. She’s a ‘Fire’ and instead of picking a ‘Water’ as her partner, I’m picking another ‘Fire’. I’m taking a risk picking you as her counterpart and I need to know you will not let me down. I’m trusting you, Poe.”

Poe pursed his lips at the lecture, still miffed.

“I- I’ll try, bu-” he cut off, seeing Leia narrow her eyes.

He sighed, glaring at the ceiling for a second, resigned.

“I won’t let you down, General,” he corrected. “I promise.”

“Good,” she replied, turning back to her desk. “Now, go make a new friend,” Leia said teasingly over her shoulder.

Poe huffed. “Why do you always talk to me like I’m still a kid?”

“Well, you haven’t yet proved you’re one hundred per cent adult yet, Poe. After all, you ran in here half an hour late and the first thing you did was try to blame your delayed arrival on poor Wexley.”

Why is she always right?

"It wasn't half an hour, it was twenty minutes."

"Twenty-five,” she countered, humouring him.

Poe grinned. "A five-minute improvement from last time then," he said, turning for the door.

Something smacked against the back of his head. He whipped around, to see Leia had her back turned to him.

“Did you just-” He paused. "Who's the kid now?"

"Still you, Dameron."

He left the room before he was subjected to any more scathing comments.

How did she- her back was turned! he grumbled to himself as he left the building, trying to ignore the fondness creeping up as the bell for dinner chimed.

Kriffing Force.

***

E/N: next chapter will be up in like a day :) glad to see someone made it to the bottom of the first chapter lol. I know my writing isn’t the best but it gets better, trust me.

Chapter 2 is up!

#poe dameron x female oc #poe dameron x original character #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #taylir gar tracyn

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

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Heroes (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 8.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn’t have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

A/N: This chapter is heavily influenced by the “Finding the fake Will body” song, Heroes by Peter Gabriel. But if you like David Bowie more, go ahead. A spoiler, the chapter won't have the same impact then.

Warnings: Giving us some fake hope, sorta? Oh, I hope that it is all real, Duffers. Also, Steve and the reader being chaotical duo at their best.

Word Count: 2.9 K

Tagging: @charmed-asylum @nemodoren

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

You were pretty sure that the monster is about to bite your fucking head off. That it will just chop it off your body. Naturally, you closed your eyes from fear and turned your head to your shoulder while you tried to wiggle out of its grip. But unfortunately, nothing helped you.

You waited for the pain in another second, but it didn't do anything to you. You just suddenly felt ice-cold, your skin turned into stone with goosebumps. You could feel its limb, sticky and cold, on your forearm and so you slowly opened your eyes up to take a look around.

Your heart's rate dropped to zero for a moment. You were knee-deep in snow in a dark place, you saw some tall firs next to you and under a long hill, there was some sort of a military camp lightened up only by a few huge lights and red light flashing, going nuts crazy. You were completely clueless about everything that was happening.

Wherever this place was, it wasn't Hawkins, nor Indiana - but you didn't know what the fuck that place could be then.

Instead of the Demogorgon - you somehow expected that it's the Demogorgon, the creature which gripped on your forearm - there was a weird, misty ball next to you, just floating in the air, letting ascend something that could be hardly described as a limb to tighten around your forearm.

Before you could do anything, you screamed as it pushed you from a long hill, dragging you through the walls of the soldier camp, lower and lower, below the snow, the ground and even through the surface of the earth.

But there were some rooms underground, just as there were halls and prison cells. You only saw flashes of some strange technology, of torture chambers and offices; not even that gave you a clue about what is happening.

Suddenly, that thing stopped the both of you, making you stand in one of the long halls leading to prison cells. You looked at the dark cloud, but again, it remained silent. Could it even speak or communicate? You didn't know. But you, for some reason, wished it could. The whole place felt cold and lifeless like there weren't living actual human beings. The walls were grey and in some places, hoarfrost was climbing all around doors and lattices.

Even though it could tell you anything, you could feel that t wanted to show you something. It was making you look at two soldiers opening up a solid metal door to drag someone out of it.

The figure of a terrified human being was leaning into the corner of their cell, shaking and mumbling something. But you could tell that it is a man. He had long, greasy hair and a pretty long beard, but there was a resemblance to someone you know.

You just couldn't put your finger on who it might be. The soldiers, you could hear only mumbling and not the actual words, took the man and gave him a few punches before shoving their palms under his armpits to make him stand up. And only a single fragment of a second made you gasp, tremble and sobbing. The man looked at you like he could see you and his mouth opened up in a shock.

You could only catch a glimpse of those blue eyes before that thing took you further into the facility. You could see just fragments of it, but the place was huge and complicated. You stopped somewhere really deep under the ground, looking at a huge tear in the wall, slightly lighting up with a red light. Chills came down from your spine to your lower back as you tried to catch your breath at least for a while.

You jumped from the spot you were standing because some huge machine was activated and it shot a huge beam of blue light into the tear. The sound it made had crawled into your ears and under your skin, it was terrifying. But the tear had slowly opened up as you saw three men clothed up in a latex suit from their head to their toes with guns coming to it. Your head was in a pain after just a moment of hearing that sound.

Your brain connected two dots pretty easily. There it was, in all its beauty - an opened up entrance to... Somewhere. The back door has been opened just in front of your eyes and it took only moments before you saw those ugly fucks crawling out of it. It was similar to the creature you and Steve found on the attic, but there was... Dozens of them. Probably even more, just crawling on all fours, growling, and hissing. The men in the latex suits were directing their path with their guns, making them crawl into a huge metal door on your right side.

There was too much for you to take in, so you burst into loud crying. You were scared out of your damn mind, watching the whole thing happening just in front of your own eyes. Nobody would believe you - just as you didn't believe Steve nor Nancy.

First, you were in a completely strange place, then there was some guy, then a whole bunch of Demogorgons, what will come next?

You covered up your mouth and let the tears slip down your cheeks. That view was one of the scariest you've ever seen in your whole life. You were terrified.

After that, you felt at your body fell onto the ground and you heard Steve yelling at the thing, shooting at it with the revolver. Your forearm was free from the thing’s gasp, you laid on the ground like a crying mess. You couldn't even stand up by yourself.

It was like a slow-motion shot as you watched the thing flee after Steve shot it into its shoulder. You laid on the ground of the attic, in the mossy-feeling blood, unable to even stand up, shaking with waves of crying coming over your whole body. Steve kneeled next to you, holding your shoulder, yelling something at you chaotically, but you just watched his face with opened mouth and watery eyes.

"Are you okay?" - Steve shook your shoulder harshly, yelling into your ear, making you fall flat on your back as you continued crying. Slowly, he rolled the sleeve upon the place where that thing touched you; there was a huge violet bruise on your forearm and there was also a small amount of blood dripping out of your right nose hole.

Your colleagues came into that house with an ambulance not even five minutes apart from that moment - you sat there in shock under a red blanket, pale, trembling with your eyes wide open; both blood and tears were still streaming down your face, trapped in your own mind, playing the scene you saw over and over again.

"I... Volunteered to accompany her if something goes downhill. Look at her, officer. She can't even talk." - Steve yelled at Anderson, pointing his palm in your direction. He was worried about you; you haven't spoken a whole word since the Demogorgon held your forearm so tightly.

"Still, in your case, it is illegal trespassing into someone's property." - Anderson answered coldly.

"There's is a... A... A rotten corpse of an old lady up there! In the attic! And a psycho almost knocked Hopper out. What else should I do? Sit here in the car, gazing on the nice, bright sun and wondering about how beautiful weather it is today!? I saved her life!" - Steve yelled.

Steve Harrington was a lot of things - not the smartest, not the one winning the one-to-one fights, a jackass at times, but he surely wasn't dumb. It would've been painfully dumb to tell the policemen about the Demogorgon. Those who didn't see the monster with their own eyes, those who haven't encountered it and had all five together wouldn't believe Steve a single word. Just like you.

"We have found some blood in the backyard, you said you shot the attacker into their shoulder." - Anderson eyed Steve up and down.

"It was in self-defense, I told you!" - Steve yelled back.

"He's... He's right, Anderson." - Your broken, silent voice could be heard as you approached them, barely standing on your feet. Steve's hand was there to carefully support you - "If there wasn't for Steve, I would be dead, most likely. He's telling the truth."

Do NOT trust them. Those were the words going in a loop inside your head. You couldn't tell Anderson a story about a fucking monster gripping on your forearm.

Steve looked at your face with acknowledgment. You were in this together, no matter what happened. You were lying to protect him and he was lying to keep the others think that you're sane.

"Do you want to take a day off then, to shake the shock off?" - Anderson put his small notebook to the pocket on his chest, hugging his hips with his palms. Your palms pulled the blanket tighter around your body as you nodded. - "Can I ask you, mister Harrington, can you take miss Hopper home? Call me when she gets there." - Anderson gave Steve a small piece of paper with the number to the department's office. Steve nodded, turning with you by your side.

"Do you still have the revolver?" - You mumbled to him without looking back to your colleagues as you walked to the old Chevy, still covered in the red blanket. Steve patted his side, where the fused gun was hung below the belt of his jeans.

When you were leaving the house, which Anderson turned into a TV crime scene, you only silently watched the car of some news presenter stopping at that old lady's place.

"Go to Dustin's." - You mumbled, leaning for your revolver, touching Steve's belly skin as you stuck your palm there just like that. You didn't even fucking care. You opened up the stack to count the rounds you had left. There were still three bullets that could be fired.

"What?!" - Steve cried out unbelievably. You furrowed your brows at him. You weren't in the mood to joke around with Steve at all.

"Because I said so, dingus!" - You yelled back.

"I am supposed to take you home and call that policeman when I do so because you don't feel well! No hanging out at Dustin's!" - Steve stopped the car on the right side of the road, leaving the motor running, looking you in the eyes. You watched each other as if the other one was a total idiot.

"May I remind you, Harrington, that I have a gun which is ready to fire at you at any moment and that another Demogorgon is running around Hawkins and that this Demogorgon can IMITATE actual people? We need to tell the others! So go to Dustin's or I'll fucking shoot you!" - You huffed out angrily.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Hopper! Okay, okay! I'll take you to Dustin's, okay! Just put the fucking gun down! You're fucking scary!" - Steve put his hands above his head, looking at you with a frown, slowly turning back on the street so he could take you to Mrs. Henderson's house.

Steve truly took you to Dustin's, but there was one problem you didn't count with - Dustin wasn't at home. He went to visit Mike because of the Cerebro. So there were you, a girl with a bloody nose with a shock blanket around her shoulder, who was apparently a cop and Steve Harrington himself standing in front of Mrs. Henderson's door.

"But come on in, both of you, you must be freezing." - The lady smiled at you and practically made you step in. Their house was really nice and modern, as you could see. She made you both a cup of coffee and gave you a cake before she turned for the last time at you.

"Dustin will be back in an hour, Steve. You have your favorite chocolate in the fridge." - She smiled at him before leaving for her favorite TV show. She let you sleep on their bed in the guest room and lend you another blanket except for your shock blanket. Steve also helped you clean your face with a piece of wet cloth before calling Anderson that you're "at home".

To your own surprise, you truly fell asleep.

But the dreams were truly bad. It was the place the Demogorgon showed you - again, again and again. Those eyes, that man. Without you knowing, your mind was concentrating on him. He was tall and he seemed to be large before, but at the moment he was slim. He also was greasy and... How could you know him? But those eyes, those eyes were reminding you of...

The pillow under your head started to get wet. You were crying - and Steve was naturally concerned, because he was sitting next to your bed, looking on the cover of some book.

"Steve?" - Dustin opened the door to the room, looking at both of you in complete silence. What were HARRINGTON and HOPPER doing at their guest's room? But before Dustin could ask, you woke up with a muttered scream. You sat up with your cheeks all red, smoothing your face to wake up yourself, even if you did feel like falling asleep again. Your nose was also bleeding again.

"What's happening?" - Dustin whisper-shouted at the both of you.

"Phone. I need a phone and I need to call El. Right now." - You panicked and got up quickly; maybe too quickly, because of your head span and you fell down on Steve, holding his shoulders.

"WHY?" - Dustin screamed at both of you. Steve looked into your eyes while your lips just mumbled I need to talk to Eleven right now, please, Steve, please, let me talk to her and you sobbed loudly. It was hard to even make up what you were saying. Steve looked at Dustin and nodded.

"I'll explain to you everything later, buddy. Just let Hopper call to El. Something wild is happening." - Steve explained quickly.

"We should go to Cerebro then. Today's Mike's turn, but when you two will explain yourself..." - Dustin promised quietly. Steve stood up, supporting you, looking you in the face with a serious question. First, you pulled the blanket closer and then you nodded.

"To my Chevy." - And off you were every one of you. You fell asleep during the ride again, covered in the shock blanket - you were tired as hell, but the dreams, more like visions, were repeating again and again. The man, the Gate, the Demogorgons. And you knew that you were so close to understanding everything, yet it was so far was that you couldn't believe it. Steve woke you up at the Cerebro again, helping you on your feet, supporting you for the few steps to a genius masterwork radio which was apparently Dustin's work.

"Move, dingus." - Steve growled at Mike Wheeler who was kneeling in the grass. He looked at Steve with a grossed-out look, he almost started talking back to him, but when you dropped on your knees, he was more scared than grossed out. You looked like a hot pile of a mess if you asked Mike. - "Give Hopper the radio, now!" - Dustin ordered Mike. He obviously didn't want to, but Dustin just took it out of his hand, basically tore out of Mike’s grip, testing it out.

"Dustin here. Do you copy?" - He asked. Mike wanted to start a round of protests, but Steve, with his hands on his lips, just gave him a look that told Mike everything without words and a shook of his head. All that Mike needed to be was to shut up.

"Eleven. I copy. What's happening?" - A young girl's voice answered with a big question in her voice. Everyone was questioning what was happening because you hadn't told much except that you need to talk to Eleven. Dustin showed you a finger to tell you that you should wait only for a little moment.

"Thank God. I think we have a code red here. I will give Hopper the radio now, okay?" - Dustin nodded at you, circling his warm palm around your shoulder, and placed the radio to your shaking hand in a way that he was sure that you won't drop it. Your fingers were cold and trembling, but you were able to press the buttons somehow.

"Hopper here. Are you listening?" - Every boy around you watched your face intensely. You were crying again, ready to throw up.

When Eleven said a short yes, it gave you the last drop of energy you needed to continue. - "I think... I think that Jim is alive. I think that Hopper is alive, El." - And after that, you started to cry even louder and the blood started dripping from your nose again, falling onto the khaki cloth of Jim’s old shirt.

#Jim Hopper #Eleven #Mike Wheeler #Dustin Henderson #Stranger Things #stranger things netflix #the demogorgon #cerebro #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x hopper!reader #the upside down

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