#all cops are bastards explained | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladykailitha · 1 month

Text

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 11

The second one for today. Steve and Eddie have an actual conversation about their wants and needs from the relationship.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Eddie laughed when Steve explained the reason for the flowers that night over drinks. “Do you really think your parents will leave you alone now?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll fuck off for awhile at least. And honestly you can’t buy that kind of peace.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. My own dear ole dad came out of the woodwork when Corroded Coffin hit it big. Tried to take credit for teaching me to play guitar.”

Steve leaned forward, chin on his fist. “I’m guessing that’s nowhere near what actually happened?”

“Oh hell no,” Eddie scoffed. “He taught me how to hotwire cars, blend into crowds to get away from cops, and how to lie through your teeth so convincingly that no one could tell. But you want to know who did teach me how to play? My Uncle Wayne. The man who took me in when the cops finally caught up with the rat bastard.”

Steve sighed wistfully. “God, what I would have given to have an Uncle Wayne. But sadly, when the test came back as infertile all they could think about was how to ‘recoup the loss of having an omega for a son’.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I wish I was,” Steve said mournfully, shaking his head. “Most of the men on my dad’s side of the family were alphas and if they weren’t then they were omegas pumping out babies like a machine.”

Eddie winced and took Steve’s free hand in his. “I’m sorry, baby. That’s got have been so hard.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand with a sigh. “The disappointment was so palpable in that doctor’s office you could cut it with a knife.” He shook his head. “They even refused further testing, even though my great-great grandmother on my mother’s side was a golden omega.”

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn. Those are super rare.”

Steve nodded. “I have two friends with red hair and that’s more common than a golden omega.”

“But if they were so desperate for money why didn’t they test for it?” he asked gently.

Steve shrugged. “My dad is a skinflint. The cost of the test outweighed the gamble on my chance of being ultra-fertile instead.”

“Damn just think you could have had your choice of any alpha in the country,” Eddie teased, “if they had and you turned out to be one.”

Steve shook his head, wrapping Eddie’s hand in both of his. “Nah, I prefer it this way, I have a job I love, a best friend I couldn’t live without and you. If I had been a golden omega, my parents would have made me chose from the crustiest, conservative assholes they could find.”

Eddied ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “So I’m assuming the label sent you a copy of the interview today?” he asked shyly.

Steve nodded. “Of course. You were so cute.”

“So call me stupid,” he said clearing his throat, “but I didn’t know escorts were allowed partners. I looked it up, a couple even have bonds. Like how the fuck does that work?”

Steve laughed bright and clear and Eddie went to remove his hand from his, but Steve held on tight.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, babe,” Steve soothed. “I was laughing because Robin thought that you weren’t aware and told me to clear it up with you. That was the main reason for drinks tonight.”

Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “But to answer your question about how omegas with bondmates can still be escorts, you forget that a lot of what we do isn’t about sex. Everyone associates escorts with sex, but that’s just a common misconception. Sometimes people just want the attention of a kind omega with no strings attached.” He kissed Eddie’s knuckles gently. “And then there are the ones that want a ‘cheating’ scenario without the drama of actually cheating.”

Eddie frowned. “So how does that work?”

“They want to have sex with a bonded omega,” Steve explained. “But without having to worry that there would an actual alpha gunning for them.”

“And their alpha doesn’t care they’re having sex with other alphas?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gentle and curious, not judging.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Things can change, of course. A famous Starcourt escort Mia Sanchez retired last year because her alpha asked her to. But they had been bonded for fifteen years before retirement.”

“Huh.”

That filled Eddie with a warmth he didn’t know he was missing until that moment. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

“And if I wanted to properly court you,” he asked easily, “what would you say to that?”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’d say yes.”

Eddie leapt from his seat and came around the table to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Steve laughed, breaking the kiss, but Eddie didn’t mind. He couldn’t be happier.

“So you don’t want me to chose between you and my job, then?” Steve asked, referring to their contract.

Eddie shook his head. “If there was a way that you could be happy with both, darlin’, that was choice I was always going to make.”

“What about the Grammy’s and your rut?” Steve asked, concerned. He felt bad, but he still wanted to get paid for those things. He didn’t want to suddenly have Eddie expect them for free now that they were courting.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Eddie murmured into his omega’s ear. “The contract will still be for those things, we just won’t have a fake break up of our fake relationship after my rut.”

Steve’s lip wobbled. “Would it be a real break up of a real relationship?” he asked softly.

Eddie pulled him in for a big hug. “Not for all the gold in all the world. Okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m okay with that.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to sit down in his chair. “So for the Grammy’s I looked over those two outfits you sent me for suggestion on what you should wear.”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of topic to something safer and more comfortable for him. “Yeah, which one did you prefer? I mean, I have closet full of amazing clothes and if nothing suits your fancy...” he half shrugged, “it gives me chance to go shopping.”

Eddie laughed. “No, no. I loved them both. Though taking you shopping has it’s appeal...” He shook his head. “I’m getting off the track here. I want you to wear the mini to the awards and the pant suit to the Vanity Fair after party.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he grinned. “That is a fantastic idea. I love it.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Eddie said with a grin. “Do you get to wear much stuff that’s just for you or do you have to be ‘Starcourt Escort’ twenty four seven?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a bit half and half if I’m honest. I don’t have to be dressed to the nines all the time...”

“But if you don’t,” Eddie said with a growl, “all the tabloids say that you’re ‘letting yourself go’?”

Steve blushed and nodded.

“What would you want to wear if you weren’t ‘escort Steve’?” Eddie asked, motioning to the waiter that they needed another round.

“It’s stupid,” he said, tucking his chin tightly to his chest. “I’m a fashion plate. That’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “None of that. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my boyfriend, not even himself.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “I like the polos, Henley’s, and chinos look. Lame I know.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought it would have been sweat pants and baggy sweaters.

“It’s not lame if it makes you feel good about yourself,” he insisted.

Another couple of bottles of beer arrived and Steve grabbed one. He just held it in his hands. He let out a long sigh.

“You know how we can roleplay situations for clients?”

Eddie nodded. They had done the meet-cute in a bar roleplay just last night.

“There’s one you won’t find on my list,” he continued. “At least not anymore.”

Eddie could feel the tension build between them. Whatever this was about was fucking hard for Steve to talk about.

“Sometimes busy executives and business owners like to have a scenario where they come home to a cute little omega housewife. If it’s a female omega, think the 1950s type. Dresses and high heels.”

And suddenly what Steve was talking about hit Eddie like a fist to the solar plexus. Male omegas would be in the polos and chinos. But the roleplay had tainted Steve’s love for those kinds of clothes and it made Eddie furious.

“And if you’re seen out and about wearing them,” he guessed, “people think you’re doing the roleplay, don’t they?”

Steve flushed in shame. He nodded once.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you sure you like this job?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Yes! The good far out weighs the bad. Like ruts without an omega can actually fuck up an alpha body. Like completely wreck it to hell. So I get to go in and help these alphas that don’t have an omega they can trust and help them through one of the worst weeks of their year and that it happens multiple times, anywhere from three to five depending on their age. Yes, I’m trained to be charming and great in bed, but that? That’s what makes everything worth while.”

He was panting at the end of his rant, eyes wild, hands clutching Eddie’s fiercely.

Eddie chuckled. “All right, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Steve ducked his head and Eddie gently lifted it back up with two fingers. “I like that you’re passionate about what you love, honey. It makes you sparkle.”

Steve looked down at his watch and cursed. “I’ve got to go.” He looked back up at him. “But I’ll see you on Friday?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s a date, sweetheart.”

Steve hopped off his seat and walked away.

Eddie shook his head and murmured, “Hate to see you leave, but damn do I love to watch you go.”

Steve ass looked amazing in whatever the guy wore. But now Eddie understood his need for hyper-masculinity. Even when he was wearing that golden dress, it highlighted his flat chest and broad thighs.

People made assumptions about who Steve was based on what he was wearing at all times and if he was even the slightest bit not what people expected he got hell for it.

In a lot of ways, Steve’s every move was even more scrutinized than Eddie’s and he was the frontman of a very famous metal band. He couldn’t imagine living the way Steve did. But despite all the hang ups and downsides, Steve was happy and you really couldn’t buy that.

He paid the tab and walked out onto the pavement. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let out the smoke slowly and flicked away the ash.

Eddie was content with his lot in life for the first time since he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. Wayne was always supportive of whatever Eddie wanted to do in life and was happy to hear about Steve.

And even happier when Eddie had called him this afternoon to tell him Stevie might agree to date without all the hoopla of the agency. Everything Eddie did, Wayne was sure to hear about it first.

Wayne was home. No matter the distance. Something Eddie never thought he’d find out here in California.

Stevie was quickly becoming home for him. He never thought he would want to mate, not after seeing how horrible his parents acted. But now?

Now he couldn’t wait to start courting the most beautiful omega in the world.

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away. He hailed a cab and gave directions for home.

He couldn’t wait to show Steve off on live television. And maybe just maybe win a Grammy or two.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth

#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

175 notes · View notes

chaotikanvas · 5 months

Text

AAAAAAAAA AFTER MONTHS THIS IS FINALLY DONE!!!!! Not gonna ramble too much and get right to it! This was inspired by Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse (wonderful original detective au by @/sunnys-aesthetic!), because I am very much not normal about this man! gonna have to be divided in two parts because of the image limit gfklhdsñjkh

Here is part one, plus a bit of an introduction! (edit: added the alt text!)

I hope you enjoy!! <3

(content warnings: uuuh nothing too out there that wouldn't be in the main fic. Mentions of blood and violence, and uuuh unsafe self-modification practices? That's the best way I can think to explain it gkjdhgsfkj, and that's all I think!)

------

The first spark feels familiar.

A sensation he last felt so long ago now.

(Not long enough. Never long enough)

It invades his systems in an instant, and yet it has always felt like an eternity. Joints locking up. Optics glitching out. Senses daring to escape his iron grip.

A spark is all he gets to hear before an array of errors and alarms and pain flood his mind.

(Pain always ovetakes it all in the end)

A spark is all it takes to start a fire.

A spark is what started the fire.

The burning within him. Overheating metal and wires and oil.

The internal inferno that took root in his head, as part of his very existence, consuming him alive.

Just a spark.

Enough to ignite the flames that he has been gradually (painstakingly, arduously, hopefully) smothering for some time now right back to being a raging hell that threatens to engulf him until there is nothing left.

Rage.

Rage is all he knows. What pushes him through the spasms.

Rage has him making sense of the glitches in his vision and set a target.

He is not the same as back then.

The target aims at him again. Presses down on the trigger.

His head twitches out of his control. He takes another step towards the target.

The target's smile falters and presses again. Again. Again.

Everything.

Turns.

Red.

-------

It's not uncommon for Eclipse to simply go off the radar and not reappear for a while. This you have learned from your dear detectives.

This time though? Your gut is yelling that there is something off.

For one, the day before he made his disappearance act, he had gone on one of his hunts. It was late at night, so it would be expected that he would arrive at the station to collect his pay the next day.

He did not.

For two...

The scene he left behind was a bloodbath.

A part of you wants to insist you are not surprised at all, aprehension about the tendencies of the violent animatronic, plus some lingering distrust, bubbling instinctually to the surface.

The rational part of you, that had seen and now accepted his genuine efforts to tear off the venom that he's been living off until recently from his system, tells you that there is a puzzle piece missing and you need to go and find it.

Detective Sun and detective Moon seem to agree with you. By the way detective Sun keeps glancing at the phone with increased frequency. By the way detective Moon arrives much later the night following the incident.

By the third morning, you decide enough is enough.

You know through the detectives that the only human survivor from the encounter was a recently joined member of the gang Eclipse stormed for his hunt. The kid was taken in and interrogated, but in his shaken state the only information they could get from him was that he was actually far from where the fight broke out, having heard a distant buzzing sound just before. Unlucky guy then stumbled on... well, Eclipse's handiwork.

(Or perhaps he was lucky. He was arrested, not taken to the morgue.)

The scene is very much still up to the brim with cops, not that you think you would get much from it if the detectives didn't share much else about the whole situation.

So that leaves you to hunt down the trail of the bounty hunter.

Under the harsh midday sunlight, after hours running around, you curse the sneaky bastard's ability to somehow go unnoticed if he so wishes while being as massive as he is.

Yet you catch wind of one or two people getting a glimpse of the robot, and that's enough to finally direct you to a general area where he might be. You suspect that you don't yet know all the locations of his safehouses, but at this section of the city at least, you are pretty certain there are no other places that could serve him well than those you have pinpointed.

Reaching the entrance of the most secluded one, you reach for your hair, and pull a pin secured by the ribbon that ties it up.

....

here's the link for part 2!

#kanvas writes #arts #bloodstained fool #dca fandom #god I can't believe I'm finally posting this kjghfsdj #fun fact #this is now by far the longest time on a piece of art I've ever worked on #sorry if I forget a tag or something I always forget them when I first post gkjfhgsdkjh

194 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

What you see is what you get

Summary: Your friend needs help. You get more than help.

Pairing: FBI! (Alpha) Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Cassie Robinson, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury

Warnings: angst, catfishing, mentions of nudes, mentions extortion, a/b/o, scenting, flirting, cocky Dean

“That motherfucker.” Your best friend slams her laptop shut and shoves it away. “I-I can’t believe I fell for his good looks.”

“What’s wrong?” You look up from the book you read. “Babe, we wanted to have a girl’s night. But all we did so far is read, and watch boring movies while you were glued to your laptop.”

“I tried to find out more about Jeremy,” Cassie sighs deeply. “I thought he was the one this time. He was funny, smart, and got a big dick.”

“Big dick,” you choke on the wine you drank. “How do you wanna know? Did you exchange nudes? I told you to not send guys nudes online!”

“I didn’t send him nudes.” Cassie doesn’t look you in the eyes, making you suspicious.

You cock a brow. “Cassie, I need you to be honest with me. Did you send pictures of your coochie to a stranger you never met?"

“I-no…I mean…it was a boob pic and one of my clothed pussy,” she finally admits. “Now he wants money from me. He threatens to publish the pictures. What do I do now?”

“What does that cockroach want?” You grab the laptop to check on the messages Cassie’s chat partner sent her today. “He wants five thousand bucks? Like hell! You won’t pay him a single buck. We are going to the cops.”

“No—they won’t help me. No one can. It’s my damn fault that I sent the pictures to him. I should’ve known better than trusting a stranger on the internet.”

Cassie looks devasted. Usually, she’s a strong and cocky woman. But right now, she looks like a scared child.

“They will,” you grunt. “I won’t accept any less than that bastard’s head on a silver plate.”

“Hi, uh—we,” Cassie doesn’t know how to start. Your friend doesn’t want to talk about her mistakes. She stares at the officer, ready to just run out of the police station and never look back.

“We need to talk to someone from the cybercrime department,” you size the officer up when he ignores you and waves you off. “Dude, did you even listen.”

“Do I look like an FBI agent?” The officer snaps at you. “If you have a problem with your laptop, look for a repair service.”

“Hey! My friend cat catfished and now that bastard wants five thousand bucks. Last time I checked extortion was still a crime. Now I want to talk to someone more qualified.”

“Miss, can I help you?” You dip your head to look at the new arrivers. Two tall guys in suits. One of them steps closer and shows you his badge. “I’m Agent Winchester, and this is my partner Agent Winchester.”

You snicker. “You are both Agent Winchester?”

He chuckles as you grab his wrist to keep him from putting his badge away. You read the name on the badge, humming as it says Winchester.

“We are brothers,” the other agent explains. “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean. How can we help you?”

“Do you work for the cyber crime department by any chance?” You ask, still holding Dean’s wrist in a tight grip. “My friend needs help.”

“We will help you and your friend, sweetheart. Our colleague Agent Bradbury is a cybercrime expert. How about we go somewhere more private?”

“Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea. The FBI has better things to do than helping me with my problems.” Cassie tries to drag you away. She grabs your arm, but you are glued to the spot.

“You won't pay that sonofabitch a single buck,” Dean smirks at your curse words. He dips his head and looks you up and down.

“Dean…don’t,” Sam warns. “We’ve got a case going on and got no time for distractions.”

“We must help these ladies,” Dean insists. “Call Charlie, we need her here.”

“Fine. But you will explain to Bobby why we didn’t solve the case…”

Half an hour later you sit in one of the offices at the police station.

It’s handy to have a bunch of FBI agents around. Suddenly the cops offered an office to you and even brought you coffee.

"To make a long story short…” Sam clears his throat when his brother is busy staring at you. “You send nudes to that douchebag and now he tries to extort you?”

“Not me. My friend,” you point at Cassie’s laptop. “She chatted with him for months. He seemed to be a nice guy. One thing led to another, and he sent a dick pic or like fifteen. After he begged and pleaded she returned the favor.”

“A classic,” the quirk redhead Sam called finally looks your way. She was busy checking on Cassie’s laptop and didn't even make a sound until now. “That’s how they gaslight you into believing you owe them nudes or shit.”

She drops her eyes back to the monitor, typing away on the keyboard. “Can you help my friend, Agent Bradbury?”

“Aw, sweetie. After I’m done with that little bug, I will clean your hard drive,” Charlie grins when you drop your gaze. She chuckles and goes back to work.

Dean dips his head to whisper in Charlie’s direction. “Hands off. I saw her first. You can hit on her friend.”

While the agents check on Cassie’s laptop, and talk about codes and shit you don’t understand, you lean closer to your friend. “I call dips on the cocky one. You can have one of the others.”

“Hmm… I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on both,” Cassie chuckles. She’s in a better mood now and ready to flirt with Sam and Charlie. “Jeremy’s loss, their win.”

“Gotcha, you bug!” Charlie exclaims. She flashes Cassie a smile, hoping to impress your friend. “I located the IP address and found the bastard extorting you. It’s not a guy, though.”

“What? Damn…” Cassie sighs. "It wasn't his dick on the pictures?"

“Nope," the redhead shrugs. "Do you know a woman named Bela Talbot?”

Cassie gapes at Charlie. “I heard that name before…I mean…uh…”

“She’s her ex,” you hastily say. “Bela cheated on my friend with some guy. Cassie broke up with her."

"I haven’t heard of her for like three years.”

While Cassie and Charlie talk about her ex, online dating, and how to get her pictures back, you turn your attention back toward Dean.

Placing your hand on Dean’s thigh you purr his name. “So…are you single, taken, or seeing someone, Agent Winchester?”

“He’s single and desperate,” Sam grins. “But be aware. What you see is what you get.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it…”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #fbi!dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omega!reader #a/b/o #fbi au #dean winchester x reader

279 notes · View notes

ribstongrowback · 2 months

Text

re: "what if Callouts For Good tho?"

i need you to think of callouts like you think of the cops. you'll hear this retort often, when one professes their mistrust of the police establishment: "okay, but what if you get mugged, huh?".

it is a fair question, after all, we are told the police is here to serve and protect, nevermind the fact that most of the time what you'll get out of reporting a theft to the police is that you'll be able to make an insurance claim later.

the reason why this is not the armour piercing question some people think it is, is that the police is not, in fact, here to help you if you get mugged. we all know this. the police protects capital, and if you don't have that, they won't protect you, especially if you're a minority.

you know what i mean. i'm summing this up because i assume that you're coming to this debate from a broadly leftist point of view, and only repeating them so that you put a pin in that as i make my actual point. if you don't think all cops are bastards, i don't think the rest of this post will convince you either way.

the point is that the police can and will only help you if you are a person of means. the actual things that police can do, the violence cops are capable of, only works on the poor and disenfrenchised. on anyone who's not the bourgeoisie.

callouts work in a similar way, because what callouts attack is social capital.

the point of a callout is that it's a non-police solution, essentially, right? in the ideal scenario, you're pointing out harm that someone is doing so that the community wises up to how dangerous that person is, in order to reduce their ability to do harm. most people who use a callout are aiming at least on paper for the target to lose their status in the community, or for their exclusion.

the issue here is that for this to work, you have to convince the community, and even with the best intentions in the world, this only works if you, as the caller, have enough social capital compared to your target that you will be trusted over the established feelings the community harbors towards that target.

you'll notice, whenever a callout works, that the people will line up to declare that they never trusted the target anyway. that they caught a "vibe" or whatever. true, some of that might be people exonerating themselves, but mostly i think these people just feel vindication over having their biases confirmed.

in other word, callouts that work work because the target already has low social capital.

now, in a community, who has the lowest social capital? why, the minorities, of course. this is why black, disabled, trans people are the most common target of any callout that works. because these people are not trusted by the community as much as white abled and cis people, because even in progressive spaces, prejudice persists.

all of this to explain something that @txttletale said in a much more succint way: callouts only work when you're punching down.

like the police.

#politics #discourse #callout culture

55 notes · View notes

emostudent · 11 months

Text

TEEN WOLF BRAINROT

so, i've been rewatching teen wolf bc apparently netflix hates us europeans and it will be removed on may 31st and here are a few of my opinions TM

scott is actually a very good main character. listen, i got into this fandom when i was older, so i probably don't understand why there is this trend of hating scott, but he's a valid MC! he shows an example of positive masculinity that is honestly so refreshing to see in modern media: he's kind, compassionate, always optimistic but not stupidly so, has an amazing relationship with his mum AND his friends, he's not afraid to show emotions and cry. honestly a very healthy, albeit traumatised, young man. yes, he did stupid stuff for the girl he liked, and yes he misjudged a few situations, but please, remind me, how old is he supposed to be? 16? 17? 18? yeah. i did worse things at his age.

scott and stiles come from working class families!!! they have money problems!! it's honestly so refreshing to see teenagers discuss money in a supernatural/fantasy tv show. it doesn't usually happens and I've found it refreshing because it's something that usually happen between irl teenagers.

i don't get sterek. really, really don't. maybe it's bc i've watched the show through a gen z lens (meaning the media and the culture (read: THE INTERNET) when i watched the show were influenced more by gen z than millennials' values) but i really don't get it. and the age difference makes me uncomfortable. (same thing with parrish and lydia, SHE'S A MINOR DUDE, there's a reason people don't like cops istg) SOMEONE EXPLAIN STEREK TO ME PLEASE

in fics stiles and scott's personalities are often swapped: stiles is the caring one, the pack mum, scott is the one with homicidal tendencies. like, my dudes, the fact that scott is a GOOD person through and through is the reason he's a true alpha. also the reason we, as viewers, like stiles is bc he's sarcastic and more morally ambiguous than scott (not really, but you get it, he cares more about himself and his immediate friends, the others can die, scott instead want to save everyone period), it's like taking away the thing that makes stiles stiles

malia and stiles were SO cute, i didn't expect to like them so much, but when they broke up my heart shattered

stydia is everything i want in a ship and i will not accept any criticism on it, it's literally one of the only straight ships i like. you have the slowburn, the malewife x girlboss trope, the he fell first but she fell harder, the mutual pining. it literally checks all of my boxes

isaac was such a cool character and he and scott had an amazing dynamic, like come on, they had something going on between them

kira is a badass. that's it, that's the comment. i like her so much

derek's development is one of the best. i couldn't stand him in season 1, but in s4 he became one of my favourite characters. but i think this has more to do with the fact that they aged him up? he was supposed to be in his early 20s in s1, but then they aged him up in s3? well, anyway, i liked how he literally wised up, stepping into the role of a teacher and guide instead of a leader, it suits him so much better (and i'm sure it's less stressful)

peter is such a charmingly evil bastard. i hate him, but i love him at the same time.

thiam is the best ship in the show, i don't care if it's canon or not. i've read airplanes, it's canon to me

we would've liked (simped for) s5 theo more if he had the same haircut he had in 6b. he was just stupidly hot.

allison and lydia should've kissed and so malia and kira. give me my wlw couples.

#teen wolf #scott mcall #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #stydia #sterek #thiam #these are just my opinions lads #i don't care if you don't agree with me because these aren't facts #these are opinions #but if you were to respect my opinions that would be greatly appreciated #thanks

382 notes · View notes

evermorethecrow · 3 months

Note

asking really nicely so you can properly explain? please? pretty please? with a cherry on top? 🛐

SIGHHHHHHHH

fine because you were nice

Every evermore au summarised PROPERLY

1) Yuuko au-

Chuuya gets a kid at 14 and has to deal with it

2) Cryptid au-

Chuuya nakahara died in 1935, came back and is now murderous and evil (and a giant ram sometimes)

3) High school au-

Chuuya nakahara is a 15 year old who wants to be completely erased from memory when he dies, simultaneously he wants to fight with everything to keep living (it doesnt work)

4) Vampire au-

Chuuya was born (wrong) into an aristocratic heavily established vampire family with a lot of not so great traditions. after escaping from them the third time he looses it a little bit and decides to now dedicate his life to murdering them all off, as well as anyone who gets in the way. hes aproached by mori ougai the head of a powerful vampire slaying organisation and joins to help his plans. i also gave him a gun

5) God au-

born as the god of luck and fortune chuuya is stolen by humans and placed in a shrine to bring insane luck to the earth. then shit hits the fan. Now hes stuck as the god of curses (and bad luck) and cant walk around without hell breaking loose

6) Plant shop au-

Chuuya nakahara ends up at a police station at 14 and meets murase (as well as some other cops). Chuuya is going to be given a death sentence but after some less than legal talk with his supervisors murase can remove it completely. the only condition is rehabilitating chuuya back into society, which proves a harder task than thought considering a few extra issues that went down in his past.

7) College(idol) au-

At 15 chuuya nakahara is the lead of a world famous pop idol group. Shifty treatment from his manager makes chuuya decide to quit, however on while preforming his last show something technical goes wrong, the stage explodes, the other members got away safe but chuuya was hospitalised. the world assumes him dead and since he contract is over he decides to keep it that way, content with living his life like a normal person now. until hes in collage and it turns out his new roomate was the biggest fan of him and his old group. chaos ensues

8) Sky casino chuuya au-

After hardly a year in the sheep chuuya is found by fyodor and placed inside the sky casino for safe keeping. now at 16 hes very good at his job and very bad at being tollerant of annoying house guests from the port mafia

9) DOA au-

15 goes wrong, chuuya gets hit a lot harder by the sheep and he ends up at fyodors doorstep (through less than natural circumstances). hes been working for the doa since. Dazai and him re-meet at 22 after hes captured by the port mafia. it goes intrestingly.

10) Scene kid au- a fun au where everyone in the show wears some kind of alt fashion (also theres like the worlds impending and quickeningly near end looming over everyone but that doesnt matter)

11) God+Vampire slayer au-

Chuuya is the (born human) reincarnatation of the god/lord of the wild in an era where vampire-like zombies run wild. he meets a boy who turned into a vampire but somehow remained concious and is now working with him and a shifty doctor to blast gore everywhere try and find a cure

12) Ability swap au

Chuuya has no longer human instead of Tainted but keeps his singularity, dazai has flawless but keeps being anything but. They have eachother. (that could be enough)

13) No Yuuko au-

Yuuko (that kid who chuuya got) never actually MEETS chuuya and instead through a long path of events ends up in the custody of a 20 year old dazai. what could possibly go wrong

14) college au 2 eletric boogaloo-

Chuuya nakahara grows up strict catholic and ends up a single parent in some lousey apartment trying to ballence class and like not killing his child. also his roomate is an annoying bastard who wont shut up

15) Nun Au-

Chuuya's raised in a cult and then joins the mafia.

16) Pokemon au Red-

All the bsd charecters live in the world of pokemon. chuuyas a gym leader and secretly a team rocket executive following his bosses order to prevent some kid finding mew

17) Pokemon au Blue-

Pokemon exist in the bsd verse! Canon except they all have pokemon to fight with and chuuya may or may not be spiritually connected to a lucario

18) Demon ability au-

Instead of tainted sorrow chuuya has an ability reminiscent of kouyou and kyoukas. (hes still got that singularity unfortunatly but this time its in a huge fucking demon?) his role in the pm changes acordingly

19) Mermaid au- chuuya's a mermaid happily enjoying life on land. Dazai is a mermaid hellbent on dragging chuuya back to the ocean

20) Circus au-

when chuuya joins the port mafia hes placed under lippmanns command instead of kouyou's. unfortunatly its not that easy and the port mafia's fronting as a circus. now chuuyas got to learn how to use rope.

21) Elise au-

On his deathbed mori manages to transfer his ability to chuuya. hes now living through elise. it goes as well as you'd expect now the mafias being run by an 11 year old

22) Chuuya stays with the sheep au-

self explanitory, dazai's plan fails and chuuya never ends up leaving the sheep. then 15 rolls around and verlaine disposes of them. chuuya travels around with verlaine until hes eventually rescued by the flags

23) Ada au-

chuuya moves to the ada after stormbringer. he works with yosano in the infirmary.

24) Demon/Coffee shop au-

Ex-fighting ring demon chuuya runs a coffee shop and tries to be evil (hes bad at it)

25) Chuuya is inside my laptop au-

Dazai finds a beat up laptop on the floor one day and being the cheap person he is decides to take it. the only issue is theres someone (something?) living inside it (its chuuya)

26) Dragon au-

Chuuya nakahara is one of the last dragons of his kind. dazai wants a pet dog but gets something more exotic instead

27) Nyan bungou stray nekos au- nyan neko sugar girls but bsd derailed and i dont know how to explain this now

29) Botw au-

chuuya's a gerudo who isnt that good at fitting in, dazai's a zora next in line for the throne whos bad at everything. together they make a wildfire look like a beach holiday

Honarable mentions

Danganrompa au (Only existed so i could execute chuuya)

Vocaloid/Utauloid au (canon except they have vocasynth voices)

Evermore's chuuyai farm and factory

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #chuuya #bungo stray dogs manga #i love him #chuuyabsd #evermore answers #bsd au #chuuya au #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya

57 notes · View notes

angelsanarchy · 5 months

Text

Tangerine Skies: Possum x Y/N Series CH 4

Tagging: @svgarcaine @icarus-star @romanroyapoligist @tempt-ress @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp @liquidsmoothdomme @auggiethecreator @ethical-cain-vinnel @blacksoul-27

TW: Fucking, P n V, Fingering, Squirting

"Wait, John! Where did my tips go?" Y/n looked for the jar that sat on the countertop.

"You know those have to be split." He snorted.

"I'm the only person working doubles. Who the hell am I splitting them with?" She asked confused and he held up the cash in his hand.

"You know the rules darlin'. I let you work here, you've got to pay me." She hated John. He was a scummy, perverted trash goblin who constantly took advantage of the women who worked at the diner. The one time he made a pass at her, she almost broke his wrist and threatened to cut his pecker off if he ever tried again. Now he's an absolute prick about paying her.

"This is bullshit and you know it." She took her apron off and tossed it on the counter.

"You could always quit. Plenty of broads around here looking for pocket change." Y/n gave John the finger before getting in her car and heading back to the campsite. She must have startled Possum because he ran out of his tent with wide eyes.

"I thought you were a cop...sorry." He admitted. Y/n ignored him and stormed into the RV. Possum stood confused until she burst back out of the RV with a change of clothes in her hands and slammed them down on the picnic table.

"I'm so fucking sick and tired of having to put up with the bastards of this stupid town and making it seem like anyone who wasn't spit out here is some sort of loser." She tore her nametag off her blouse and Possum continued to stand silently, listening to her rant.

"I work really fucking hard to be able to live how I live and all I wanted was to save enough for me to get out of here and back on the road for my next adventure." She kicked her shoes off and started to take her pantyhose off.

"I shouldn't have to work twice as hard because I have goals beyond this place. It's not fair." She started undoing the buttons of the uniform and Possum's eyebrows went up. She peeled the uniform off and stood in her bra and panties now as she raged.

"Why does it seem like I'll never get out of here? Why is it acceptable for perverts to hold the power of a paycheck over someone's head?" She stepped into a pair of shorts and Possum nodded his head.

"Sounds like you had a bad day." He finally spoke lighting a joint.

"I did. I had the worst day and I wanted to quit so bad but I only need another grand before I can get out of here and go where with enough gas." Y/n explained throwing a big shirt over her head.

"I can't help with that but I can certainly help take the edge off." He held up the joint and walked it towards her. She slouched feeling the tension leave her shoulders and Possum smiled, reaching up and pulling her hair down so she was now fully relaxed. Y/n shook her hair out and Possum laughed. She liked to see him smile. She took the joint from his hand and took a long drag of it, stepping back and looking him over.

"How high are you right now?" She asked curiously.

"I'm lucid...why?" He asked equally curious about her questioning. She moved towards him carefully and extended her hand with the joint in it but when he reached for it, she pulled it back towards herself slowly causing him to step towards her. She used her free hand to touch his neck and kiss him carefully. Possum moaned against her lips for a few moments before pulling back.

"Would you object to taking the edge off a different way?" Y/n pitched. Possum moved his lips trying to form words but then made a noise like he was trying to calculate something in his head.

"Are you suggesting that we fuck?" Possum asked casually. Y/n nodded her head and Possum mimicked her nod.

"Yeah yeah that could work." He was the one to grab her this time, taking her by surprise as he kissed her once more. Running his hands up the front of her shirt and gripping her breasts roughly. Y/n felt him backing her into the picnic table until her legs hit it.

"W-wait, the joint." She held it up and ashed it out on the table and put it in his pocket before pulling his vest off. Y/n yanked her shirt over her head and Possum picked her up off her feet by surprise.

Possum buried his face into her tits, still tightly snug in her bra. He sat down on the picnic table and brought her to straddle his waist.

"You don't- you don't want to fuck in the RV?" Y/n asked breathlessly.

"No I enjoy being outside, in nature." He unclasped the bra and let her tits fall into his hands, cupping them and bringing them to his mouth to suckle and bite. Y/n moaned, throwing her back to expose her neck. She could feel Possum hard beneath her and she put her hand down to rub him through his jeans.

Possum stopped abruptly.

"I did this backwards." Possum confessed standing back up and putting her on her feet. She wasn't sure what he was talking about until he started to undress himself. He yanked his shirt over his head and Y/n pushed her shorts to the ground before reaching forward and pulling his jeans to his ankles. He pulled her by the waist towards him as he shuffled his feet now trapped by his jeans and boots. He spun her around to grip the table and pressed himself against her ass.

"Fuck...go slow, I haven't...I haven't done this in a while." Y/n was nervous. Possum's length alone would be a new sensation. He ran his tongue down her back leaving little bite marks on her bare ass cheek before reaching between her legs and feeling how wet she was.

"I won't hurt you. I promise." Possum kissed at her neck, letting his cock rub against her skin before using a free hand to bring his cock to her pussy. He eased in slowly feeling her tense slightly and reaching back to touch his thigh. He cooed in her ear making sure to stay at the pace she wanted him to before he had finally made it most of the way inside of her.

"Fuck you're so big. I feel so full." Possum let his hand fall on top of hers as it rested on his thigh.

"That's a good full right? No pain?" Possum asked making her turn her head to see him.

"God no it feels good. Really good. You can move, please." Y/n begged. Possum took her breasts into his hands from behind and tried to keep a tight grip on them as he started shallow thrusts. He groaned and waited for her to push back onto his cock before he really started pistoning his hips upwards.

"Fuck! FUCK! You're so fucking tight." Possum whined trying to catch his breath. Y/n didn't hide her moans. Possum was right. Fucking outdoors was liberating. She could feel everything all at once and she fucking loved it.

"Fuck, fucking fuck." Possum's pace was becoming sloppy and he pulled out suddenly, making Y/n gasp as he pushed his hand in the middle of her back so he could cum all over her ass, shooting nearly halfway up her spine. He shuttered, stroking his cock carefully, pulling every drop of cum out of himself before using his finger to slide his cum off her skin and onto his fingers. Y/n wasn't expecting to finish but when Possum replaced his cock with his two cum-covered fingers.

"Oh fuck Possum, don't stop." He used this as motivation to spin her around and use his thumb on her clit as he continued to pulse his fingers in and out of her pussy. She gripped him by the shoulders and he leaned against her, letting her pull on his hair and bit his collarbone until her legs started to wobbling and she was squirting down his wrist, screaming. He slowed his hand down, not stopping completely until she put her shaking hand on top of his to halt all movement.

"I've never...I've never done that before." Y/n blushed. She had never actually squirted before or really cum without helping herself along. She blushed and Possum smiled.

"I can show you how to do it all the time if you want." Possum offered and Y/n laughed.

"Right now, I just want the feeling back in my legs first." Possum used his shirt to wipe the cum off her and clean himself up. As they put themselves back together, Possum re-lit the joint and sat down next to the fire he had built early. Y/n walked onto the RV and grabbed a blanket to wrap around herself before plopping down next to Possum with a smile. He silently held out the joint again and she took it, shaking her head.

This was the kind of evening unwinding she wished she had every night.

#Possum #Welcome to Willits #One Shot Series #Tangerine Skies #Tangerine Skies Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #4/9

72 notes · View notes

moonknixght · 5 months

Text

Chase of Cat and Mouse [Jake Lockley x Cop!Reader]

Summary: Jake Lockley is a smug bastard who enjoys watching you struggle to find the murderer responsible for Arthur Harrow's death. But it becomes evident that his overconfident façade is not that strong when you manage to catch him after work. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Enemies to lovers kinda, Suggestive, Swearing, no mentions of marc or steven (sorry guys), mentions of death (?) A/N: this took wayy to long and my sincerest of apologies to all my lovelies. I’m unfortunately a huge procrastinator, but I’ll try working in more fics in the coming days :) ! Requests are open, so feel free to talk to me or suggest something for the next fic!!

You lean on your chair with a distrustful look, eyes twitching at the cocky grin that your suspect, Jake Lockley had on his face. If only you could just reach over the damn table and smack it right out of his face, but unfortunately with no permission from the higher-ups to hurt people under custody, you were pretty helpless to his conceited expressions.

It's just been an hour of going back and forth with the male; where you would propose something incriminating that could possibly involve him, before he would defend himself with a cheeky statement, which worked a bit too well in his favor.

For example, When you pointed out that the man who suspiciously led Arthur Harrow away from the hospital to be never seen again was wearing a cap similar to his, Jake responded with a chuckle; "Is there no one else in London who wears a newsboy cap?"

And it didn't help that every once in a while, he would make a mockery out of you, arrogantly sneering as you struggled to find solid evidence for an arrest. You tried to pay no mind to it as you distracted yourself with the papers lay on the desk in front, trying not to be bothered by anything he says.

"Running out of hurtful accusations, amor?" It was getting increasingly frustrating, the periodic visits of Jake Lockley to the questioning room almost once every week, where every time you insisted it was him. Your superior, an old bloke named Martin was understandably getting tired of it, ever so slightly wishing that he had just taken this rookie case to his hands instead of having his junior over-analyze it so much. London is a big city; the death of another old man was no exciting news, but it seemed to be of great importance to you. A knock on the door snapped you out of your deprecating thoughts, breaking that eye contact that danced with a fiery spark of hatred between you and Jake while you jumped to your feet to answer the door. A familiar figure with a head full of grey hair with an equally grey mustache stood, with a fed-up expression on his face. Speak of the fucking devil. "Cut short for the day, I need you in my office in 10." Martin commanded, a breath escaping your lips quietly as he said so. "But—" "No buts. My Office. In 10. Let 'em go." You turn back to the male who was still sitting nonchalantly on the uncomfortable basin of the stool; but almost immediately as your gaze fell on him, he looked up with a tilt of his head, his lips curling at the end to form a smirk. He managed to get out of your grasp again.

Stepping into Martin's Lair, which most acknowledge as his office, you felt yourself think of the many ways he could possibly question you— as well as all the ways you could retaliate and justify your fixation on this specific suspect. All of your defenses led to a dead end, but how exactly were you supposed to explain how Jake looks at you when he sees you falter? How his sharp, tinted brown eyes sparkle with a glimmer of amused smugness to it every time you found yourself searching for more clues in front of him? You know he did it. You know that he knows very well you're aware of that. Yet, he seemed to be enjoying the effort put in to prove your conclusions.

Arms crossed, your supervisor eyed you as you walked in and did your regular routine of a salute to your higher up, before he motioned you over to sit. Martin never was a person who gave much trouble, and that was an understanding that ran between the both of you, but that didn't mean he didn't have moments where he would be highly critical of your actions and decisions.

"Where are the final reports, (L/N)?" "I.." You pause, bracing yourself. "I don't have it. Yet." The older male sighed in response to your answer, rubbing the base of his temple while you shifted uncomfortably on the cushion-y seat, preparing yourself to hear the lecture that was incoming. "I assigned this file to you nearly 3 months ago, (Y/N), and you have nothing except a raging suspicion on this one guy who you can't even prove is the culprit we're looking for." He leaned onto the desk. "What happened? You were one of my best students. That's why I trusted you with this."

Oh, Jake Lockley is done for once you catch him again. You part your lips to say something, but the guilt of letting down such a placid and reasonable figure that was your superior was really starting to settle down. Had it been anyone else, you would have stubbornly defended yourself about how you were absolutely sure of your intuitions. But it was a war that you would not come out victorious from anyways; possibly hurting the respect Martin gives you was just an added loss.

"Be more attentive, (Y/N). I know how hard these tend to get but I've been having people show up and make a fuss about finding the culprit—probably some distant family of the victim and—"

"I'll have the reports down to you by Sunday." Martin spared a look of surprise, taken aback by the sudden tone of determination. It took you 3 months to make even the slightest of progress, yet you seemed positive that you'll manage to nail the report and hold the felon accountable within the matter of a day and a half. How were you supposed to do that?

You would've been a little more confident if you knew the answer to that question yourself.

Stripped out of the authoritarian uniform, You found yourself clutching onto your jacket as the cold autumn weather in the streets of London brushed against your skin. The night was young as always, and you wished there was time for you to go stargazing, laying under the bed of shining pricks in the dark blanket that was the night sky. Barely 8pm by then, you realized as you checked your watch, but the gloom of a midnight sky was already settling in. It was an uncomfortable feeling since you've rarely never gotten out all that much, for a stroll nonetheless, ever since you started working on the case, with the exemption of the travel from and to home to the station or vice versa.

And that would have been the fate of today, if it weren't for the fact that you were hunting down Jake Lockley. This time not with the help of a colleague, but by yourself as you hurried through the busy streets of the city. You were given the location to an apartment towards the north of town, which was presumed to be his address and where you were hoping to run into him for a talk. Not another interrogation, at least in his point of view, but you were aware that this case was far from salvageable with just mildly threatening questioning.

You watch as the neon sign of a convenience store just below the building your heading for shine brightly; stopping momentarily to check your phone and prepare before taking a sharp breath to turn the corner— to almost immediately run into a figure in the dark and brooding alleyway.

Despite the crescent moon towering above his frame, Jake's face was lit solely by the cigarette hooked between his fingers, revealing a familiar facial structure that you loathed. But, despite having strong emotions which can only be described as hatred, you did find him to be conventionally attractive, but that's just stating the obvious.

Another thing that you took to notice was his dark, slicked-back curls that almost stuck to his neck, carefully combed as to not to seem disheveled and obviously missing his signature cap. It was.. certainly a look. Something out of the ordinary, which made you wonder if you even were looking at the same person.

At the echo of your footsteps, it was destined to catch the attention of the male, who squinted at the sight of you, before a relaxed expression took over his stiff posture. At his notice, you paused just a few steps away from him, pondering where you're gonna begin— only for him to beat you to it. "'m afraid I can't make it to another questioning, officer." He sneered, but shrugging it off has almost been second nature to you at this point. "I have.. plans for later tonight, 'Can't spend that time rotting away at the station." "You're not being taken to the station, I just want to talk." You say firmly, To which Jake reacts with a raise of his brow, prompting you to continue. "Look." You shift your gaze away, sighing. "I might've been wrong about you, but I think you know something I don't. And if you know, anything, and I mean- anything on Arthur Harrow, I need you to tell me it. Now." Jake looked at you with not much change in his expression, but his hand brought the cigarette back to his lips as he leaned by the hood of the car, facing you. If you were any hopeful about Jake abiding by your commands, you would have said he was considering it, but the silence was becoming overbearing and you still needed to pitch your case.

"His family's been very active in trying to find the culprit and.. It's—"

"Mentirosos.." ("liars..") He grumbled lowly, but thanks to a pretty good sense of hearing, you were able to catch it.

"Pardon?" "Do you actually believe them?"

Jake's question did falter your figure for a moment, especially since his voice was a little bit more.. commanding. But it did send you back to really put your thought into it. Arthur's file and your personal research on his background did not list any names that may be dear to him, so who were those claiming to be his family? Maybe even friends? "Whoever they are, They're concerned, and I don't have any answers but I know that you know something." Jake chuckled. "So, You're desperate." You glare at him, but at the same time, you can't exactly deny his accusation. The only other reaction was the sequence of words you managed to grumble out. "Spill it, Lockley." The manner in which you spoke was dominant, commanding as you were beginning to be reminded of all the trouble Jake has given you. The cigarette that brightly burned between his rough fingers was left neglected until now, when he opted to drop it on the floor before the heel on his shoe extinguished the leftover flame within it in order to make his way towards you. You stood firm in your stance as he took light strolls towards your frame, with a light tilt of his head. You stand firm in your stance as he lightly strolls towards you, with a slight tilt of his head. "I know you're not just a pretty face, You'll figure it out eventually. Without my help." You were almost face to face now, standing parallel against each other, the eye contact unwavering between the two of you. As always. "I did figure it out. Either you did it, or you were involved; So if I'm asking you anything now, it's because you know what happened." "Why didn't you just take me in again?" "Because I wanted to talk to you. Not to the unbothered, innocent cab driver who I'm apparently tormenting." The corner of his lips couldn't help but curl just a little bit, as he stared down at you for a moment. Jake was quite unsure if you had anything incriminating against him, or whether you were going off pure instinct, but for you to be so stubborn about being right, you got to have been confident about something.

Jake's intense gaze bore into yours, a silent challenge passing between you two. Despite how lightly he seemed to take everything, The air grew thick with tension, and you found yourself fighting the urge to step back. His proximity was disarming, but you refused to let him see any vulnerability in the stance you put out. "And If I don't cooperate?"

"You're dancing on the edge, Lockley. One wrong move, and you'll find yourself in a place you won't enjoy."

You warned, your voice low and laced with a subtle threat in the off chance he did have any malicious thoughts. He was a unpredictable character, despite the many interactions you've had with him. Jake's laughter rumbled, low and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've been on the edge my whole life, Cariño. It's where I operate best."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like the world around you faded away. The charged atmosphere crackled between you two, and neither was willing to back down.

The dimly lit alley provided a secret backdrop to your confrontation. The distant city sounds and the occasional flicker of a neon sign were the only witnesses to what was unfolding. Jake's hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You're playing with fire being here, detective." he whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart raced, and for a split second, you forgot the reason you sought him out in the first place. The lines between rivalry and attraction blurred. The charismatic aura surrounding him was magnetic, and undoubtedly, you were drawn in. But perhaps, You could use this to your advantage.

"Maybe I prefer it that way with you." You retorted, your voice betraying a hint of defiance. You could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing, challenging. With a blink of your eye, you notice how close he is to you, your face nearly touching as his gaze bore into yours. It was hypnotizing, even if you were planning to play him entirely, your knees couldn't help but feel a little weak.

In a charged moment, the air crackling with unspoken tension, Jake closed the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both unexpected and electric. Time seemed to stand still as the world around you melted away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

The rhythm between the two of you was picked up almost immediately; led mainly by him, as he quickly dashed at the opportunity to deepen what already existed. Being amused as well as surprised, you allowed your hands to trail up his back with a smile, grazing along the rough fabric of his trench coat. Your hands didn't stick around there for long though, eventually finding it's way up to entangle itself in his astonishingly soft curls, earning a light moan of satisfaction from him.

With just a light push of your body weight onto his, you maneuvered him over to one of the stone walls that sandwiched the two of you in the alley, barely leaving any space for your lips to be left untouched. Back touching the wall in a firm grip, Jake's hands fell from cupping your face to having a rough hold on your waist, pulling you closer to the warm of his body in a mesmeric embrace.

"I didn't know you wanted me this badly, (L/N). Is this why you had me come in so often?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" "With the way you're acting right now? Of course not." You engulf him in another bombardment of kisses, which he accepts greedily, like a man who's waited years to do this. If anything, It's almost like he wanted to hold you in such a way the moment he set his eyes on you. On second thoughts, Maybe that's why he's been obediently showing up every time he was summoned back at the room. Sly fuck. You separate for the second time, panting as you gently lay your hand on his chest, soaking in all of his perfect features. Amidst all the chaos of the case, the face you've seen almost once every week had way more to offer than you remembered. Whether that was his hooded eyes that loomed over his chocolate colored eyes, or his lips that glistened perfectly as he licked up the rest of your taste from the corners.

Perhaps you were lost a little too much in awe of his features, still breathless but unsure if everything was from the sudden fire of desire in your heart, or the intense make-out you just had with your suspect. "Harrow brought it upon himself." Jake murmured amidst his gasps to catch some air, giving into his temptation of giving you hints.

"What?"

"He's a cult leader."

Your nose crinkles at the information, brows knitting as you sunk in to the realization. Jake looked away for a moment, a clicking of his tongue could be heard as he cursed himself for just.. giving information to a police officer. Khonshu would probably eat his head for this later.

"So.. That means—"

"—The people bothering ya' at the station are his followers, and they're likely looking for me."

You were right, but you couldn't help but feel.. bad? Is that what that was? No, protectiveness, like you suddenly didn't want to give Jake's name away to the persistent visitors. But what if Jake is lying? He's still a conniving character. Maybe this is just justification for he has done. "They're looking for you.. so.. I was right.." "Felicidades, muñeca." ("Congrats, Doll.") Jake spoke with that same grin, but this time, with a clear admiration for your intelligence. It was hard holding back the same grin every time you accused him back at the interrogation room. "You got me."

To be elated or not, was the conflict that clouded your mind right then. This was it. Jake took the opportunity of your realization to swiftly move from under your grasp, knowing that sticking around would only trouble him more. Once again, He needed to disperse into the shadows of the night like the many times he's been completely caught, to go and only return when the dust had settled. Things were not as easy as that this time. Not when you were involved. "Wait." Before he could completely pull away, You held onto his arm, with a surprising amount of strength. With a slight struggle, Jake could've pushed you off and fled, but he didn't, pausing as he stared at you. You had a look that could only be identified as a mischievous plea, like you completely ignored everything he had just revealed. "Stay. I don't want us to be cut short." The male couldn't properly respond to that before you leaped at him once again, crashing your lips onto his with a more deeper passion. Your previous contacts were slow, yet this kiss bought in a new category of roughness that he could definitely get used to. His hands once again latched onto your body, admiring your sides while the same position was restored for a second time. The kisses from Jake were way more messier, his hands and lips trying to cover all of what it can reach in a restricted amount of time. He was hungry, and that's exactly where you wanted him. As he littered your jawline with sloppy pecks, you huffed in the stimulation as you felt his arms fall down and trace along your body. He was distracted in an effort to grasp at your rear, earning a soft grasp that escaped your lip at the sudden contact, which only bought a smirk of achievement in his features. In honest truth, all of Jake's little mannerisms when in almost full control of your body had butterflies fluttering in the pits of your stomach; heart racing while he maintained his pace in just driving you crazy. Though you promised yourself just a moment ago that you wouldn't falter, that pledge was getting way harder to keep with every passing second of indulging in him. On the other hand, Jake was enamored, savoring every sense of you he can get himself hooked on. Perhaps that was why he didn't notice how your hands brushed over his tight grip, pulling it away from the sides of your stomach or how there was mild jingle of something that echoed through the alley amidst their breathless pants of fervor. Click. Or maybe, He didn't notice how something restrained his hands together. No, that's a stretch. Pulling away from a kiss that he could have for an eternity more, his gaze fell the palm of his hands, sweeping down until it spotted the chained collars that strapped the two of his hands together. It didn't really take him long to recognize what it was. "Jake Lockley, You are hereby arrested for the murder of Arthur Harrow." Your cleverness of leaving him so vulnerable to you was undoubtedly smart, but that was an essence of your charm that Jake simply couldn't get enough of.

#jake lockely x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight x you #steven grant x reader #moonknight x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x y/n #moon knight x y/n #fanfic #jake lockley #jake lockely x you #jake lockely imagine #moonknight #Moon knight

107 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 11 months

Text

Warnings: angst/fluff. mentions of trauma, panic attack, severe injuries after crash, feelings of guilt, slight assault.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

Summary: you got to see Sihtric in the hospital, but he wasn't the same guy you knew before the accident.

Word count: 5,1k

Note: part 3 of the Mechanic story, direct follow up to part 2.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylas-the-grim @heimtathurs @bubbles-for-all-of-us

'Don't leave me, please, I'm so fucking scared.'

********************

You barely knew Finan, but when he saw you running down the hospital hallway towards him, he pulled you into his embrace without any hesitation.

'Where is he?' you cried, 'it's all my fault, Finan.'

'He's being looked after,' Finan hushed you, 'and why would ye say that?'

'If he… hadn't,' you sobbed, 'brought me home or… if I had just let him go moments earlier… then he- he-'

'No. No!' Finan said and cupped your cheeks, 'we can't change fate. It happened. No one here is to blame except the bastard that hit him. But the cops are onto that already.'

'Is he awake?' you tried to calm yourself.

'Not that I've been told. I haven't seen him, I only know the damage.'

'Tell me,' you sniffled and wiped your tears.

Finan sighed and motioned you to take a seat. He sat down next to you and sighed again while he rubbed his hands over his face before he spoke.

'They told me,' he paused and shook his head, 'Sihtric… the helmet saved him. The collision was so hard, if his head was unprotected he would've died right on the spot.'

'No,' you weep softly, to which Finan took your hands.

'But he is alive, aye?' he reassured you, 'he does have a mild concussion. The further damage is,' Finan paused again, 'his left shoulder is fractured, his left elbow, wrist and hip are broken. He has three broken ribs, both knees are fractured and his right ankle is broken too.'

'Oh my god,' you sighed and broke out in tears again. Finan pulled you in for another hug and tried to hush you.

'They believe he will be okay. He'll just need a lot of time to recover. So wipe ye tears, lady,' Finan chuckled weakly, 'ye won't get rid of the boy this easily.'

You smiled lightly and tried to calm yourself again.

'Is he awake already?'

'I'm not sure, I did see a few nurses rush over shortly before ye came, but I haven't heard anything yet.'

'They rushed in?' you grew concerned, 'why?'

'I…,' Finan sighed and shrugged lightly, 'I can't tell ye, sorry.'

You dropped your head in your hands and sat like that for several long minutes until a nurse suddenly walked over.

'There was a slight complication,' she said softly, 'but I can confirm everything is okay. We have placed him in an induced coma.'

'What?' you snapped.

'Why?' Finan asked.

'He had regained his consciousness, which we didn't expect after a trauma this big. It is safer for him to be in a state of sleep for a little longer,' the nurse explained, 'but if you wish to, you can see him now.'

You looked at Finan, who returned a worried look, but you both agreed and followed the nurse down the hall. She opened the door and said you could stay as long as you both wanted, but said to not touch Sihtric or anything that is currently attached to his body.

'I do want to encourage you to speak to him. There is always a possibility he can hear you, which might be comforting for him,' the nurse said before she walked out, closing the door behind her.

You and Finan both stood far away from the hospital bed, both too nervous and frightened to get any closer. You looked at each other and you saw how Finan had teared up. Without thinking you grabbed his hand and you slowly walked over to Sihtric.

Most of his body was covered with a blanket, but the sight of his face was enough for you to let out a sob. His face only had mild bruises and several cuts, nothing that wouldn't heal normally, but upon seeing it, it truly dawned on you what had happened.

His left arm was already placed in a cast, elbow to wrist, covering up the bruises underneath, but both his hands were exposed and the bruises and scratches looked painful.

'You know,' you chuckled lightly, 'the day before the accident, he told me a few more scratches or scars would go unnoticed on him.'

'Aye,' Finan sniffled, 'he was an ugly bastard before the accident already.'

You snapped your head up at Finan with a disapproving look, but you couldn't help smiling through your tears when Finan did the same.

'Shut up,' you hissed softly, to which Finan squeezed your hand.

'So, ye were with him just before the crash?'

'Yeah,' you sighed, 'he gave me a ride home from work after, you know, my car…'

Finan chuckled and shook his head.

'Yeah,' you snorted, 'Sihtric picked me up and we just rode around for a few hours before he brought me home. It was quite late already by then, around 10 o'clock I believe.'

'10?' Finan frowned, 'the accident happened around 10:30.'

'Well,' you said, but quickly closed your mouth again.

'Aye,' Finan suddenly snorted, 'I see. Took a while to say goodbye I'm sure.'

'Yeah,' you blushed lightly, and Finan saw you tear up again, 'he should've stayed over. I asked him, but he said it wasn't a good idea. If he stayed he wouldn't… he,' you choked on your words.'

'Nah, Sihtric's not like that. Not if he really likes ye, that is,' Finan smiled softly at you, 'believe me, Sihtric wanted to stay. But there was no way ye could've made him, he doesn't let his walls down anymore that easily.'

'He told me a few things, yeah.'

You both sighed and listened to the heart monitor that was connected to Sihtric for a moment. You looked at Sihtric and you desperately wanted to wake him up, to hold him in your arms and tell him he was safe. But you kept your distance, and you weren't ready to talk to him with Finan in the room. Besides, you figured Finan should be the first to try and say some things, as Sihtric considered Finan as his only family.

'I will give you some time, Finan, alone, in case you want to talk to him. I'm going to get some coffee, do you want some?'

'Appreciate that, lady,' Finan smiled weakly, 'and no, I will fetch my own coffee in a moment, thanks.'

You patted Finan lightly on his shoulder and walked out of the room. You got yourself a coffee and sat to wait in the hallway. About half an hour later Finan found you on your chair, asleep, with an empty cup of coffee in your hands. He didn't have the heart to wake you up, as he had a feeling you weren't planning on going home. And neither was he, so he sat down next to you and eventually fell asleep too.

*****************

You both woke up as a nurse nudged you awake. Apparently you had slept for a while, and they advised you both to just go home. Sihtric wouldn't wake up in the next few hours anyway and his condition was stable. Yet you both refused to leave and just ended up roaming the hallways the entire day, getting to know each other better. And to your pleasant surprise, Finan was very likeable and funny. He told you a lot about Sihtric, good and bad things, and you just loved to hear the stories he had to tell about the holiday adventures they've had the past few years.

You'd been back in the place you both slept at for a short while before suddenly two nurses rushed by and entered Sihtric's room. You and Finan both jumped up, but knowing you wouldn't be allowed in the room, you just stood there, watching. Seconds later you heard something clatter on the floor after a pained groan and another two nurses hurried into the room.

'Sounds like he's awake,' Finan grimaced.

'You think?' you said, concerned.

Not much later one of the nurses ran over to the two of you.

'(y/n)?' she asked, slightly spooked and confused, 'is one of you (y/n)?'

'I-I am,' you said cautiously.

'He's awake and asked for you. He is not supposed to have visitors yet, but when we told him that he quickly became rather aggressive, attempting to rid himself of any attached wires. He knocked over the IV pole in the process, his injuries caused him discomfort and made him lay back down. But,' the nurse paused and swallowed, 'you, you will have to see him. I am afraid we will not be able to keep him calm otherwise.'

'I… shouldn't you go?' you hesitated and looked at Finan.

'Go!' Finan said, 'go, lady. He's clearly in need of you,' and he lightly shoved you towards the nurse. You nodded at Finan and followed the nurse inside the room. You watched how the other three nurses made sure Sihtric hadn't ripped out or broken any tubes or wires. In the meantime the nurse, who had called you over, told you to be careful as he might still be high on medication which could cause him to act unexpectedly. When everything seemed to be fine and back in place again, the nurses left the room, closing the door behind them.

You felt a mild rush of panic when you slowly walked over to Sihtric, who took short and heavy breaths after his sudden anger outburst moments earlier.

'S-Sihtric?' you whispered, to which he slightly lifted his head up and you heard him sigh when he saw you.

'(y/n)?' he spoke hoarsely, lips curling into a small smile.

Sihtric made an attempt to reach his right hand out to you, but was restrained by the infusion line attached to him, causing him to, once again, almost pull over the IV pole. You hurried to stop the pole from falling over and Sihtric was quick to grab your hand as you stood next to his bed. You looked down into his mismatched eyes and felt the familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach again.

'One more, lady?' he whispered with a sleepy smirk.

'You can't be serious,' you chuckled lightly, 'you nearly trashed the place just to say that to me?'

'No,' Sihtric chuckled, to which he quickly groaned as it hurt him, 'I actually hoped,' he hissed lightly in pain, 'you'd give me one more.'

'Sihtric,' you sighed, 'I'm not even supposed to see you. Let alone touch you.'

'They won't know.'

You couldn't help but smile at his smirk. The man had been seriously injured, yet here he was, still flirting, as if half of his body wasn't broken or fractured. Oh, what the hell, you thought. You slowly and cautiously leaned into him, but still his lips were quick to find yours. And it only took a split second before you heard the heart monitor gradually beep faster, and you pulled away from him when the sound became concerningly fast.

'Sihtric,' you chuckled lightly, 'we can't do this right now.'

'Hm,' he murmured, trying to pull you closer again but he seemed confused as he tried to do so. Then you were rudely interrupted when a nurse ran in to check his heart monitor.

'You can't touch him!' she snarled at you.

You abruptly stepped away from him, but Sihtric didn't leave his grip on your hand and clenched his jaw as he looked at the nurse. She sighed in frustration and warned Sihtric to keep himself calm, or he'd quickly be denied seeing you. He scowled at the nurse before she left again, and you couldn't help but giggle at him.

'Sihtric,' you said and shook your head, 'you need to rest.'

'Stay with me,' he whispered, suddenly seeming broken after looking confident just yet.

'I don't think I am allowed.'

'Baby, please,' Sihtric sighed and squeezed your hand again, rather harsh this time and you tried to pull away, which only intensified his grip.

'Sihtric, you're… you're hurting me.'

'Stay with me,' he said again, gently yet confused, while his grip was anything but gentle.

'You, you have to let go of me,' you tried to sound calm but you felt yourself grow anxious.

The nurse had warned you he could still be unpredictable, and you didn't know him well enough yet to know if this was part of his normal behaviour or not. You didn't know if he was normally this clingy and if he thought it was normal to use force on someone. And when you couldn't hide your sudden fear anymore, you jerked your hand back, slipping out of Sihtric's grip. You stepped back to which Sihtric gave you a pained and once again confused expression.

'No, please,' he begged, calmly, 'don't… don't go.'

'Sihtric, you can't,' you sighed and swallowed hard, 'I don't want you to use that much force on me again,' you said softly as you rubbed your already reddened wrist.

'Force?' Sihtric asked, not sure what he was being accused of.

You saw his face grew concerned as he was still confused, which led you to feel concerned again too. Was he really not aware of the force he just used on you? Was he still high on medication? Because he seemed to be rather sober and aware, even reacting to his own pain. It made no sense at all to you.

'I… I will be… I need some air,' you stammered, 'I- I will be back.'

You couldn't bear hearing him plead again so you quickly turned and walked out of the room.

You stormed past Finan, who caught a glimpse of your tears and he quickly followed you.

'Hey!' he called after you, 'hey, what happened?'

'He,' you sobbed, 'I don't know. He just… he wouldn't let go.'

'What?' Finan frowned. You showed him your wrist and Finan looked in shock when he saw a bruise was already forming on your skin, 'did Sihtric do that?'

You nodded and wiped your tears away, 'I think I… maybe… I guess I just don't really know him.'

'What? No. No, this is not something he does. He,' Finan sighed, 'Sihtric may have some rough edges, but he would never purposely harm someone he's fond of. And definitely not a lady,' he scoffed, 'believe me, he's as soft as they come. He must still be high on medication.'

'He didn't look like that, he seemed very aware of everything. Except for this,' you held up your wrist again and brushed your hands through your hair, 'he begged me to stay.'

'Do ye want to go back?'

'I don't know,' you shrugged lightly.

'Do ye want me to go back with ye? Keep an eye out? I could even wait outside, at the door, he wouldn't know I'm there.'

'Yeah, I-I think that's a good idea. I'd like that,' you smiled weakly.

'Maybe you could go in first,' you said as you walked back to Sihtric's room, 'you know, to have a chat? You know him better than me. You'll be able to tell if he's high on not.'

'Aye, I'll do that,' Finan said, and he squeezed your shoulders, 'everything will be okay. I promise ye, he's a good lad.'

********************

'Finan?' Sihtric said, still hoarsely, 'where is (y/n)?'

'Sihtric, listen to me,' Finan said curtly, 'ye scared us both, we are still trying to adjust to this whole thing, aye?' he paused and waited for Sihtric to react. Once he had nodded, Finan continued, 'how do ye feel?'

'Wrecked,' Sihtric chuckled lightly, 'where is (y/n)?' he asked again.

'Am I not handsome enough for ye?'

'Piss off,' Sihtric smiled and blushed lightly.

'Aye, I see yer just fine. How's the pain?'

'They could give me something stronger, but it's not too awful. I mainly feel dizzy at times.'

'Ye got a mild concussion, so that's nothing weird. Anything else that feels off to ye?'

'I don't think so,' Sihtric said and looked down at his hands, 'nothing I can recall right now at least. Where is (y/n)?'

Finan nodded and looked at Sihtric for a few seconds before he slightly leaned in.

'Listen, that lady out there,' Finan said, 'keep her. Make sure ye bloody keep her. She tried to contact you for hours, the morning after your crash, but I couldn't unlock your phone and reach out, until she finally called.'

Sihtric sighed and clenched his jaw as Finan spoke.

'She came over right away, a crying mess, and she hasn't left the hospital since she arrived. Now, I don't know what just happened between the two of ye, but ye better be careful, mate. Ye spooked her just now.'

'I didn't do anything!' Sihtric suddenly hissed.

'Ye bruised her bloody wrist with the grip ye held her in!' Finan snapped, 'clearly ye are not high on any medication, I can tell, so I don't know what got into ye, but if ye do that again I will kill you myself. Is that clear?'

'Where is she?' Sihtric asked again, even more impatient this time.

'I asked ye a question!'

'Yeah, clear!'

'Something's not right with ye, Sihtric, I can tell,' Finan said quietly but sternly, 'I don't know if it's the trauma catching up or the concussion, but something's not right. I can feel it.'

Sihtric looked away from Finan and clenched his jaw again. 'I want to see her,' he said.

'And ye will. But ye will behave.'

Finan then got up and walked out of the room, back to you.

'Aye, he's as sober as he can be. But something's wrong. However, he still asks for ye, so if ye want to see him, I'll stay close.'

'Thank you, Finan,' you gave him a quick hug, 'I do want to see him. Maybe I judged too harshly. I… we can't imagine what he feels or thinks right now. I will go to him.'

You took a deep breath and walked back to Sihtric, and you almost forgot what had happened when he smiled at the sight of you and looked at you with loving eyes.

'Baby,' he whispered, reaching for your hand again as you sat on the side of his bed. You politely pulled your hand away and gave him a soft smile.

'How are you feeling?'

'Better now that you're by my side,' Sihtric smiled, and you couldn't stop yourself from getting closer to him again. You leaned in and softly brushed your fingertips through his hair, and you both chuckled lightly when you heard his heartbeat speed up again.

'Hear what you do to me, lady?' he smiled, causing you to blush.

'Do you,' you hesitated, 'do you remember anything?'

Sihtric closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your touch as he thought for a moment.

'I remember picking you up,' he said, eyes still closed and paused for a short while, 'I think we… just rode around for a while then.'

'We did,' you smiled, your fingers still softly playing with his hair.

'And… I brought you home. And we kissed,' he smiled widely now, 'and I didn't want to leave you.'

'But you did,' you chuckled lightly.

'I did,' Sihtric smiled, 'and I was a fool. But I did it for a reason.'

'I know.'

'I remember,' he swallowed hard and you saw his smile fade, 'I… I regretted leaving you. And I missed you as soon as I left. So,' he paused,trying to recall his memory again, 'and I remember that when I was halfway to my house, I… I turned around. I wanted to go back to you.'

'Sihtric, no,' you gasped softly, and you suddenly felt sick inside.

'I was on my way back to you,' his voice trembled, 'I needed you in my arms that night,' he choked on his words.

'No,' you let out a soft sob and leaned your forehead against his lightly, 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

'Making you go back, causing you to… to…'

'You didn't cause anything,' he raised his voice slightly and quickly hissed at his pain. You pulled slightly away from him, making sure you weren't hurting him.

'You didn't cause this,' he continued with a shaky voice, 'and if I, if I… if I had died, then at least I,' he paused to compose himself, 'at least I'd died knowing I had somewhat of a chance with you.'

'You're such a fool,' you cried softly, 'I've been trying to make you ask me out for weeks. You always had more than somewhat of a chance.'

'But what chance do I have now, lady?' Sihtric looked up at you, 'now that I got fucking wrecked?' he smiled brokenly.

'Well,' you smiled softly and caressed the old scar on his cheek, 'a few more scratches and scars go unnoticed on you.'

Sihtric chuckled through his tears, making him groan in pain again. You gently leaned back into him and softly nuzzled his nose.

'My lady,' he sighed while you could hear his heart monitor beep faster again, 'please, one more?'

'Just one?' you whispered before you kissed his lips as softly as you could.

'More,' he murmured with a smile against your lips, before you kissed him again.

He brought his right hand up to cup your cheek, moaning softly against your lips as he brought some pain upon himself while he did so.

'Be careful, darling,' you cooed.

'I just want to feel you close, lady,' Sihtric sighed.

You placed your hand on his and you brushed your cheek lightly against the palm of his hand.

'I am close,' you whispered, squeezing his hand lightly as you leaned back in to kiss his lips again.

'But I,' Sihtric sighed, breaking the kiss, and you pulled your hand off his to cup his lightly bruised cheek.

'What?' you spoke softly when you saw he looked very confused again, 'what is it, love? I'm right here.'

Sihtric looked up at you with a sudden fear, and you felt how his hand on your cheek tightened, just like he had done before with your, now slightly blue, wrist.

'Sihtric?' you asked, alarmed.

'I, I,' Sihtric stammered. You watched his lower lip tremble and he gasped for air, his eyes darted all over you and you saw he was on the verge of tears. But there was something else in his eyes too, beside a glance of panic and fright. There was a hint of near insanity, which scared you like nothing else ever had before. Sihtric squeezed your cheek hard, and forced your face back to his again as he desperately tried to kiss you.

'Sihtric!' you tried to raise your voice but you simply couldn't. You managed to pull slightly away from his lips to which Sihtric started crying and shook his head.

'I can't… I can't feel you,' he gasped loudly and dug his fingers in your skin again, but this time he clawed at the back of your neck.

'What do you mean!' you panicked at the sight of him, while you heard his heart monitor go even faster than before.

'I can't feel you,' he cried and suddenly raised his voice, 'I can't feel you!'

Finan had heard the commotion and you vaguely heard him shout for a nurse before he ran over to you. He was bewildered at the sight of you and Sihtric and didn't know if he had to pull you away or not, as he saw how you leaned your forehead against Sihtric's, trying to hush him as he cried and shouted that he couldn't feel you. Finan watched in shock, trying to make sense of this sudden outburst and he kept looking back to the door, waiting for a nurse.

'What do you mean? What do you mean?' you asked Sihtric over and over again, as he kept trying to kiss you amidst the panic.

'My hands!' he suddenly shouted with terror in his voice, 'I can't feel your skin! I can't feel you! Why can't I feel you? Why can't I feel you anymore!'

'Baby,' you sobbed, trying to understand what on earth he meant, 'but I'm here. I'm right here!'

'Oh sweet Jesus, his nerves!' Finan suddenly shouted, 'his hands!'

'What?' you snapped your head towards Finan, 'what does that mean!'

'Nerve damage!'

'I need to… I need to feel you, I- I can't… I-,' Sihtric breathed heavily, and you saw he was about to have a panic attack.

'Nurse!' Finan shouted loudly again just as she finally ran in.

You pulled away to give the nurse space, but Sihtric had caught your hand in his and he refused to let go. Again, squeezing so hard you thought he was going to break your hand.

'Why can't I feel her!' he shouted at the nurse.

'I need you to let go of her,' the nurse said curtly.

'No!'

'Sihtric, please,' you cried, 'you're hurting me!'

Sihtric gasped loudly again when he looked down and saw your hand in his, seeing how he had caused the colour to leave your fingertips, and he abruptly let go.

'I- I didn't mean to,' he panicked as you backed off, 'I can't feel you, baby, please. Don't leave. Don't leave me, please, I'm so fucking scared.'

You brought your shaking hands up to your face, covering your mouth as you were taken by shock while you watched the nurse quickly sedate Sihtric. Finan wrapped his arms around you and forced you out of the room, and outside you just became numb and let yourself fall down to your knees.

********************

Two days had passed since you had last seen Sihtric, as he was sedated to prevent him from doing any more damage to himself or others. After a doctor had run tests on him, you were informed that Finan had been right. The nerves in Sihtric's hands had been damaged in the crash, causing him to lose all sensation in both hands. The doctor said his nerves were only bruised and that the sensation would come back to him again, but it could take up to three months. You felt relieved to know what had been wrong, but also felt terrible for Sihtric. You couldn't imagine how scary it must be to suddenly not feel anything you touch anymore, but still remain to have strength in your hands which you were simply unaware of.

After the incident Finan had brought you home, where you finally got some sleep and refreshed yourself. You felt better quicker than you expected, but it also helped that Sihtric had called you the evening after you had left him. You were happy to hear his voice, even when he wouldn't stop apologising to you, and he told you that starting tomorrow he would be allowed to finally leave his room for a few hours during the day, albeit in a wheelchair. You promised him you'd be there, and told him that Finan had informed you he had to get back to work again, so it would just be you at the hospital tomorrow. Sihtric grinned and said he didn't mind that.

********************

When you arrived at Sihtric's room he was already settled in his wheelchair. You couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight of him. His left arm almost completely in a cast, his right ankle in a cast while large bruises and some cuts decorated every piece of skin you could see.

'Lady,' Sihtric smiled when he saw you and he bit down on his lip.

You smiled and blushed lightly as you walked over to him. Despite not feeling anything, Sihtric still brought his right hand up to your face, wanting to cup your cheek as you leaned in towards him. You gently pushed his arm down and cupped his cheeks instead.

'Hey, baby,' you whispered and nuzzled his nose softly, to which he hummed satisfyingly. You kissed him tenderly and you felt yourself suddenly become lightheaded, just like you had felt when Sihtric had kissed you for the first time. You both felt a little flustered after the kiss and you quickly moved behind Sihtric to push his wheelchair.

'Guess I'll be driving you around now for a while, huh?' you snorted as you pressed the elevator button.

'I sure hope so,' Sihtric grinned.

You kissed the top of his head while you waited for the elevator, and you just had to brush your hand through his soft, short hair. Sihtric beckoned you over to face him and asked for a kiss, which you happily gave him.

'I've missed you, lady,' he suddenly said.

'I've missed you too,' you smiled, 'how much longer do you have to stay here?'

'Not much longer, I think. I don't need any surgery so there's not much reasoning to keep me here much longer. I can heal my broken bones at home too.'

'What about your concussion?' you asked as you pushed him into the elevator.

'It can cause dizziness, but so far it has been mild, so, also nothing to be very worried about.'

'And the pain in general?'

'Lady,' he smiled, 'I don't feel a single thing right now. I don't know what kind of medication they gave me, but it's amazing. Only when I cough,' Sihtric sighed, 'and when I laugh, that really hurts too.'

'Have you tried sneezing already?' you snorted as the elevator door closed.

'Gods, lady,' Sihtric grimaced at the thought, 'I'd rather not. Might break another rib in the process,' he chuckled, to which he hissed lightly.

********************

'So, when you are allowed to go home…then what?'

You looked at Sihtric, who sat across from you, and you both enjoyed the warm sun on your face. The park next to the hospital was peaceful and quiet, and you could see Sihtric really needed to leave that room and he couldn't stop smiling.

'Well,' Sihtric cleared his throat, 'I thought that maybe you could get one of those hot nurse outfits,' he snorted, causing himself to moan at the pain. You looked satisfied at his struggle.

'That's what you get,' you grinned, 'for thinking about stuff like that.'

'Worth it,' he hissed.

'But, you're telling me you expect my help then?'

'I would like your help, lady.'

'And how? I mean, you basically need someone day and night.'

'You could… if you want to, maybe, you know, just… temporarily move in.'

'Really?' you chuckled.

'Yeah? I mean, I can do things on my own, you know. Like breathe,' he grinned, 'but I would need help with some stuff. But, you obviously have your job, so… I don't expect you to be around all day.'

'But you expect me to be around all night?'

'That would be great,' he smirked.

'Sihtric,' you rolled your eyes and blushed.

'It's… it would maybe be the perfect opportunity to get to know each other better,' Sihtric said and also blushed lightly, 'I'd really like to have you around. Properly. Not just for a few hours, like this.'

'Well,' you sighed, 'let me know when you can go home. I'll try to get some time off work then.'

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric kjartanson #tlk #modern!sihtric

146 notes · View notes

sing-you-fools · 7 months

Note

Hi, I saw your post that Neil liked. I am sorry but I haven't read Terry's works and I'm curious, how do his themes in works connect to your post? Because you started the post saying you were thinking about his themes. So how exactly does it connect to what you have realized? I didn't quite understand. Thanks!

so i finally figured out how to access my inbox. sorry if it's been a little while!

i definitely wasn't expecting more than ten or so people to see that post, and i'm very much on the Discworld Side of Tumblr, so i didn't bother explaining. then person number 8 to like the post was @neil-gaiman himself, so...it went differently than i expected. so, sure! i'll do my best.

my first piece of advice is to read Terry Pratchett. and if you specifically want to understand what i mean in my other post, read the Witches books starting with Wyrd Sisters, or skip straight to Witches Abroad (Discworld books typically stand well on their own, though the more you've read, the more you'll pick up on). look up the Discworld Reading Order Guide 3.0 for further instruction. (it'll tell you to start with Equal Rites for the Witches, and you can, but it's less the first book in the Witches series and more the book the Witches series spun off from. personally, i like to treat it as a standalone prequel.)

in the Witches series, cackling is what happens to witches when they're too isolated and don't talk to other witches enough. they start to get a little unhinged. it shows in small ways at first, but it can get dangerous if it goes too far. specifically, the one time we actually see a cackling witch, she's forcing the world around her into literal fairy tale plots (sound familiar?). so when i said Aziraphale is cackling, i was drawing a connection to that specific book - i don't think Aziraphale is that far gone, but he's desperate and he's pushing things into a shape they're not supposed to be. he's so desperate for his happy ending, and i can't really blame him.

now, drawing this out to Pratchett's larger body of work - the thing to understand is that he was a master of archetypes. you know Aziraphale's "not just a southern pansy, the southern pansy!" line? that's all Pratchett's main characters. Vimes isn't just a bastard cop, he's the bastard cop. Moist is the slippery conman. and the witches, they're the three witches. the maiden, the mother, and...the other one. (there's always a twist, of course. archetypes without a twist would get boring.)

and he works with these archetypal plots, too - again, especially with the witches. and an overarching theme is that the characters need to work with the narrative they're in to bring it to a conclusion. if their solutions try to fight the shape of the story, they don’t work. the most common element on the Disc is narrativium, which serves to ensure that stories follow the narrative. stick to the proper shape. it, for example, forces Granny Weatherwax to be the good twin when her sister went dark side even though she wanted to be the evil one, because there has to be a good twin, because that's how stories work.

(as a writer, i can only imagine this was at least partially inspired by how hard it is to get your characters to do what you want them to.)

so, taking it back to Aziraphale. he's fighting the story they're actually in so hard, forcing it into another shape entirely. that was never going to work, because Good Omens is a Terry Pratchett story. it's a Neil Gaiman story, too, obviously, and Pratchett may not be here to help write it anymore, but Neil knows how to write a Terry Pratchett story, and he's not about to let his friend's spirit disappear from this world they created together. narrativium may not exist in Roundworld (Earth), but i'd bet it exists in heaven and hell, and probably Aziraphale's shop.

QUICK SNEAKY EDIT: if you're wondering if you should read more Pratchett, the humor in Good Omens is very much reflective of his writing

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #discworld #cackling #good omens season 2 #narrativium #sing-you-fools

96 notes · View notes

slocumjoe · 1 year

Text

A ramble about Preston Garvey and a self-indulgent revision of the entire Minuteman questline

TDLR: The Minutemen faction sacrifices writing and Preston’s character as a means of shoveling errands and busywork at the player.

Preston’s issues as a character are entirely Doylist, meaning the fault of outside forces. His writing, his concept, his themes, those are solid. This is not a racehorse that broke its leg and was still sent down the track, like some characters. This is a horse that was hale and hearty, but they made it run in circles around cars in the parking lot instead of putting it in the race.

This essay is not going to be my most coherent one. Preston’s issues are so apparent, so in your face, it kinda feels like a waste of time explaining it. Just look at him and anyone with two braincells to rub together can see. But a lot of things in Fallout 4 sticks with me, even when I’m not in a Fallout 4 mood. Preston is one of those things. So neglected, so misused in the game, I couldn’t stop thinking about the bastard.

Before we get into what Preston is, in-game...what was he meant to be?

And you know what?

He’s close to Danse, post Blind Betrayal.

Preston Garvey started his military career as a fresh-faced, bright-eyed young man, who wanted to be another gun protecting the Commonwealth against whatever would harm it. He always had his faction’s best interests and ideals in mind. The first to wave the flag, the first to say the motto, the first to pick up a gun for it. He didn’t want heroism, or glory. He wanted to make the world a better place. It sounds cookie cutter, cliche, so sugary-saccharine. But this is the wasteland. This is in a world where everyone else seems content to succumb to futilism, to pretend there is no Better for the world.

Preston Garvey is, inherently, part of a rebel army. The Minutemen were a militia, a guerilla army of farmers and their children, banding together against the oppressive totality of raiders, mercenaries, anyone who would rather gnaw on bones than build to ensure everyone was taken care of. The Minutemen are the fuck you, we want to recover and heal faction, to the raiders’ fuck you, I have a right to wallow in the ruins.

The legend herself, the icon, the Queen, Ursula K. LeGuin once said; “The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist; a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.” The MInutemen might look like your average, boring heroes (we’ll get into why), but it is inherently badass to look at the literal End of the World and decide, no, actually, we don’t want to lie down and die.

Preston Garvey is not a boy scout, the Minutemen are not mall cops. They are furious, determined, and most dangerously, optimistic.

A young Preston Garvey joined under a blue banner, served under it for years...and watched as people who saw money, power, glory, took that banner and tied it into a noose.

Joe Becker died, and having not chosen someone to take over as General, all of the colonels squabbled for the position, wanting the fame, the cushy office. These people weren’t Minutemen, not at heart. The faction had grown so large, there was bound to be people looking only at the resources, what was in it for them. Preston, still a young man, but quickly losing his naivety and faith in his fellow Minutemen, watched as these colonels dropped their altruistic acts and demanded they get theirs.

And then Quincy happened.

The Minutemen were in disarray, following the Mirelurk invasion of the Castle, lacking a home base and their radio communications. But Colonel Ezra Hollis, potentially the last Colonel who gave a shit, heard that Quincy was under siege by Gunner forces, and he led his small, out-gunned squad to do whatever the fuck they could, until another Colonel came to provide the needed fire support. Hollis’ Minutemen succeeded in driving the Gunners back, and holding them off, but their help from Colonel Marbury never came. Preston watched as his Colonel refused to give up and let Quincy fall...and he watched as Clint, a ten-year veteran, betrayed everyone, chose money and a winning team over what was right.

Quincy fell. Preston Garvey watched as the refugees fell in a line, running for safety. Watched his comrades, who he had been fighting against impossible odds with for days, dropped with them.

Preston Garvey died, and I can tell you where. At one house, to the right, down the street from the museum, where the last other Minuteman lay dead in a yard. Where he became the Last Minuteman. Even if there were others who would call themselves such...they weren’t Minuteman, not really. The real Minutemen tried to save Quincy. Everyone else, who gave up, never believed at all.

Preston was still fucking furious at the hedonistic cruelty people indulged in and called inevitable. But he was alone, a failure, and had lost any reason to believe that there was a possibility of continuing. A point, a reason, yes. But the optimism...without that, there was no Minuteman army.

Preston is Danse Post BB, because he’s freshly disillusioned from his faction, horrified at the truth and betrayal. He has lost his identity, his values, unsure of where to go, if there’s anywhere to go. And then...salvation walks down the street of Concord, and walks him and his group back up the road to Sanctuary. Sanctuary.

And then comes in the fucking dialogue system (FDS) and the fucking radiant system (FRS), armed with folding chairs, to beat Preston Garvey’s rich character into a bloody, twitching pulp. We cannot talk about Preston without talking about how his faction questline plays. We simply have to, because it’s like a shotgun wedding from hell.

Let’s start with the very first quest in the Minutemen. Preston, while running for his fucking life from gunners, then ferals, then raiders, has somehow heard through the grapevine/radio he doesn’t have that Tenpines has a Corvega raiders issue. He asks you to do it because he’s busy guarding Sanctuary. Okay.

You go to Tenpines, Corvega, and back, and whoop, you are now Minuteman general.

You START THE MINUTEMEN as THE LEADER. Even fucking MAXSON waits for you to at least bump Danse off before making you a Paladin, but nope! Starting at the top, ending at the top. This kills progression in all senses. There is no sense of gaining ground, the Minutemen start with a General. Skyrim gets mocked for making you the leader of all factions, but good god, at least you had to earn it by sticking with them.

So, bad start.

Then you do some settlement stuff...which is handed to you in the worst fucking way. The FRS.

Where is Preston getting this information? How are people sending it out? Ignoring the logistics...it’s just boring. You talk to Preston sometimes, and he always says Go Here, Do This, Come back. Do this enough times, Preston wants to retake the Castle. At this point, you don’t have any men, it’s just you and Preston- wait, who the fuck are these people?! We’ve had soldiers this whole time?! Who hired them?! You take the Castle and it’s admittedly cool, if not a pain to restore for all your- okay, wait, I can only bring settlers? Where are all the men I supposedly have, there’s three soldiers here! Three soldiers, this is just a Clearing the Way radiant quest, but the moving in folks helped me kill the mirelurks!

Ugh, fine. You keep traveling, Preston gives you more- Preston?! I killed a Mirelurk Queen specifically for the radio tower, so I could get quests from the radio! Why is Preston still dispensing quests? It discourages you from talking to him, because you’ll get busywork cluttering your quest log. You can’t talk to Preston Garvey. You can’t fucking talk to him without doing him a favor first.

Y’know what makes this even more abominable? You are said to have soldiers, who could be doing this instead! Why am I going after kidnapped settlers when we have soldiers?! The General still has a kid to find and the Institute to explode! SPEAKING OF...

The Commonwealth Provisional Government was started by the Minutemen, and ended by the Institute. This is never brought up again. And it’s not even Preston who talks about it, it’s Nick. The Minutemen have very real reason to want the Institute gone, and a good excuse to get the player to want to destroy the Institute beyond “grrr synths/they took my baby.”

Anyway, you go get artillery from Ronnie Shaw at some point, build it in your settlements, and...make your farmers man them. Not soldiers. I know you can deck out your settlers with armor and weapons, but the fact that you have maybe 5 constant, non-random encounter soldiers, all at the Castle, is...it makes it feel hollow. Where is my army, Preston? Who am I leading?

So, you do the Main Quest, blow up the Institute. Blah blah. Blow up the Brotherhood, too. Blaaaaah.

Either way, let’s get into fixes. And by fixes, I mean, complete rehaul.

First thing’s first. The entire questline is bad. It’s radiant quests and then boom boom Institute. It starts and ends the exact same way, you being the general. Second thing, we need to go back to the old dialogue system; no more YES, NO, WHAT, SARCASTIC. Actual dialogue. Back to Fallout New Vegas’s system, that relied on all stats and perks. Actual conversations with branching paths.

Saving Preston at Concord is fine. Works. It’s the first radiant quest that sucks ass. Throw that system out entirely, and I do mean entirely. Don’t save it for anything, it needs to go. It cannot remain. No being sent to Tenpines because Preston heard from a little birdie.

Instead, you work with Preston and the survivors to fortify and set up Sanctuary.

First, you work with Preston to shore up Sanctuary’s defenses. As you work with him, he’s polite, but curt. Professional, but not warm, open. He expresses gratitude, but definitely not trust. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what your motives or wants are. You can tell him about Shaun, but he’s still not sure about you. He can’t afford to be and will tell you that outright, but...he needs someone to go see if anyone survived Lexington or Concord. He knows his other Minutemen split up with other survivors, he doesn’t know if they made it out. You can offer to go find them, or stay and protect Sanctuary. If you go, the other survivors will set up Sanctuary on their own without your help.

If you stay and Preston leaves, you plant crops with Marcy, getting to know her and potentially, she cracks and shows some vulnerability. She doesn’t soften right away, she’s still traumatized, but you get to see why she’s the way she is now. She just lost her baby, her home, all of her friends and family. Was just failed by the people who swore they’d protect them all. Betrayed by them.

Then, you work with Sturges to get a water pump/purifier running. Sturges will tell you about Quincy in some detail, explain how it went to shit. He talks about how the Minutemen were needed more than ever, but crapped the bed at the last minute. Sturges says he thinks there’s a place in the world for the group, but with the last living soldier clearly reeling from everything that’s happened, he thinks it’s safe to say the Commonwealth is on it’s own.

Next, it’s the bed situation with Jun. He barely says a word, only quietly thanking you for your help. If you choose the right dialogue options, he’ll say you remind him of Colonel Hollis, very brave and kind, even when it was a bad idea to help. Hollis didn’t survive, but you did. Maybe it’s not all bad, maybe Hollis wasn’t wrong, just of bad luck.

After, no matter who goes to find the bodies of the other Minutemen and Quincy locals, some Corvega raiders attack Sanctuary when they come back. It’s only a small scouting party, looking for Mama Murphy. You kill them, and Preston is freaking out and about to pack up and keep everyone moving farther. It’s up to you to calm him down and offer to go kill them. If you’ve picked certain dialogue choices before and Sanctuary has a high defense score, Preston will join you on the trip to Corvega. It’s on this journey + throughout it you can tell him about the fate of his comrades, or he tells you. If he doesn’t accompany you, you two talk about it when you get back to Sanctuary after killing Jared.

Either way, It’s here that Mama Murphy tells you about Diamond City, not in the museum.

You do the main quest now, and when you get to Diamond City, you overhear people talking about the Quincy massacre, and what a shame that the Minutemen are gone. Someone talks about how McDonough forced all the ghouls out, and they moved up to the Slog, but now the Slog is having mutant troubles. From there, you can go decide for yourself if you want to do the Minuteman questline. The first few quests were just to organically show you the settlement system, dialogue system (the old, good one), and dungeon crawling, the explore-loot-return loop. It’s here that the Minutemen branch off from the main quest.

If you choose to save the Slog, you have the option of saying you’re there on Minuteman business, even if you’re not a Minuteman. Choosing this is what gets you in the faction proper.

You can keep finding settlements and offering help. Doing this, Preston eventually catches word through Diamond City Radio and demands to know what the fuck you’re doing. You have a lot of options to choose from, but only the altruistic, optimistic ones will earn Preston’s trust. Anything else, he might just try to kill you, if you, like, say you’re doing it for money. But if you’re doing this for good reasons, he’s on board. Surprised, unsure this will end well, but...hey, if you want to try, he won’t stop you. If Sanctuary has enough settlers, defense, and you’ve turned enough settlers into guards (which have a different character tag, when assigned to defense posts), Preston will offer to accompany you, and that’s how you get him as a companion.

So, you and Preston wander around, doing quests, and helping out settlements. Help enough settlements, they’ll realize hey, we’re all on good terms with this Minuteman, and this person who’s basically a Minuteman...let’s just get the Minutemen back, yeah? People band together, settlements you’ve provided for will get settlers on their own. Eventually, people at settlements approach you and offer to help, what needs doing? If you have a settlement quest/errand, you can assign them to it, and they’ll complete it for you. This snow-balls until you’re taking over the Castle, for all these guns-for-hope to gather around and manage trade routes and work. You get the radio tower. You get an army. You get artillery, automatically built at every settlement in a designated spawnpoint.

It’s here that, by popular vote, you’re offered the position as General...but you can turn it down. You can hand it to Ronnie, or Preston. Both of of them agree, no, the people and the new Minutemen want you, but they’ll take it if you pass enough dialogue checks. Ronnie will run the Minutemen like a hardass, fierce and cynical to deter a second collapse, but Preston runs it like a community. He believes that cynicism was what killed the first Minutemen, and that constant reminder of who and what they do this for will keep motives pure. No matter the general, the Minutemen are now a solid force in the Commonwealth, stronger than ever, making everyone piss their pants. And it got this way because you wanted to help.

It’s at this point that Preston’s conversation about his depression unlocks, and his romance.

But the fun begins when the Gunners take a modicum of offense to all this.

Sanctuary is put to the sword, the Castle is attacked, and best of all, the old Colonels show their face, either on the side of the Gunners as bosses, or trying to weasel their way into the Minutemen again. Preston loves killing all of them, hates sparing or talking them down. These fuckers left him, Quincy, the Commonwealth to die, they are traitors, they are pure scum.

The Minutemen, they fight back. You take squads into Gunner camps and clear house, take it over. People stop working with or hiring the Gunners because they don’t want to piss off the General, whoever that is. The Gunners aren’t on the ropes yet, but they’re staring down Minutemen barrels and it’s only a matter of time before this explodes into someone getting wiped off the face of the earth.

Somewhere in-between looking for the Institute, you get kidnapped by Gunners and taken to Quincy. They’re using you as either a hostage, intending to kill you to prove a point, or torturing you for fun, taking the piss out of the idea that the puny militia could ever stand up to- hey, why am I hearing gunfire?

Preston and the Minutemen storm Quincy, putting it under a siege not even the Gunners could ever have hoped to accomplish. If the Minutemen were dog food, the Gunners are kitty treats. It’s a swift, brutal execution of every green-wearing bastard. They don’t even have time to prepare before Preston himself kicks the door down and frees you, then runs back out to continue bashing people’s heads in with his rifle. You meet up with Ronnie, and she points you down Preston’s warpath, gently asking if you can go stop before he gets himself killed trying to throttle Clint. As you chase him down, you see Clint up on the highway, looking down, before he walks away, presumably to meet Preston.

You can go find Preston, kill Clint before he gets to him, or go kill Baker first. If Preston gets to Clint, you’ll hear him screaming bloody murder before they start the fight. They’ll fight until you go finish Clint off. Once Clint drops, Preston has something of a nervous breakdown. Ronnie and other Minutemen show up, she takes over and tells you to finish clearing Quincy with the other soldiers while she gets Preston out of the fight. You can listen to her, or insist you stay with Preston. If you stay, you clear the way for Ronnie’s group to get back behind Minutemen lines just outside of Quincy. Baker can be killed by NPC Minutemen, so you don’t have to worry about it too much.

The Minutemen have Quincy again, Preston is recovering from his panic attack, and Ronnie is foaming at the mouth at the idea of going at Gunner HQ. You can agree or disagree. If you’ve been killing the Colonels, Preston will think that the Gunners are in such bad shape, it’s only a matter of time before they kill themselves with infighting, just as the Minutemen did. If you’ve spared the Colonels, he’ll want to finish off the Gunners, as they’re still too organized and armed to leave alive. If Ronnie is General, the Minutemen attack Gunner HQ anyway, no matter what, but if not, the player can influence Preston or make the decision themselves.

Laying siege to Gunner HQ cements the Minutemen’s place as the strongest army in the Commonwealth. With this ending for the Minutemen, non-important/notable raider hideouts will be cleared automatically, either because soldiers killed them, or the Minutemen were so oppressive, they couldn't find anyone to raid. Other factions will speak more carefully to you, be gentler when describing their intentions. Maxson and other BOS soldiers, if you join them, will mention that being so close to the Castle was unintentional, and they’re nervous about the Minutemen turning their artillery on the Airport. You’ll have a harder time getting the Brotherhood to go to war with Minutemen in this ending. Everyone in game will acknowledge what the Minutemen become, through your efforts.

If you let the Gunners dissolve, you’ll see Gunners having left for raider groups, groups of them killing each other, Gunners trying to get in with the Minutemen. Those Gunners, if you’re general, you can take them on, kill them, or turn them away. General Ronnie will kill them, General Preston’s choice depends on if you have been more merciful, or grudge-holding. People will comment on the Gunners wasting away into little more than scavengers, and with enough time, if you go to Gunner HQ, you find it empty and abandoned. People are less scared of the Minutemen this ending, as they didn’t obliterate the most dangerous local army in a show of total force and revenge. The Brotherhood is more likely to go to war with you, less intimidated, but the Railroad will offer their spy network if you agree to help them rehabilitate and save synths, provided you’ve spoken positively of synths.

Either ending, the Institute will try to destroy the Minutemen, as they destroyed the Commonwealth Provisional Government in the past. But now, the Minutemen have the firepower and intel to destroy the Institute, or take it over, if you so choose. Even if you don’t follow Shaun, if you choose to or convince General Ronnie/Preston to spare the Institute and use it for the Commonwealth’s benefit, you are left with it under your control, enforced by the Minutemen.

So. What does this revision do?

I dislike when people portray him as an innocent, gentle little sunshine boy, and not as an army vet who survived where none of his fellow soldiers could. This man has an edge to him. He isn’t a small sad puppy, he has something of a mean streak in canon. In this revision, Preston has opportunities to demonstrate layers of his character, showing how his trauma and guilt has effected him. You get to see it for yourself, rather than hear about it. You can see him break down in Quincy, you can see him resist the idea that strangers can have good intentions, you can see him rebuild his hope for the Minutemen and himself. And you can also see him lose patience for people who have wronged him, want to cut down anyone who would threaten his people, be kind of irrational and lashing out.

I also dislike that the Minutemen have no visible effect on the wasteland, nothing you can actually see. No one else sees it, either. Here, people will acknowledge the Minutemen’s power. And, c’mon, in game, you are the only one doing anything. In this rehaul, you get things started, but people will be active participants in restoring the Minutemen, will build settlements for you. You can go decorate and fiddle around, but you won’t have to worry about water, food, beds, and defense, they’ll get it sorted themselves. The busywork is also passed off to soldiers, who you could potentially catch in the action as they clear out mutants or save kidnapped settlers.

And the finale of facing off against the Gunners, and either destroying them, or brushing them off as a decaying tantrum with guns, gives the Minutemen something to do for themselves, beyond the Institute. You’d have to lock off Quincy and Gunner HQ, so the player can’t clear them without going through the questline, but that’s fine, other quests do that. But the Gunners are never brought up, not really. It also lets Preston confront his greatest trauma and come up victorious, even if it hurt, and when deciding on the fate of Gunner HQ, lets him evolve as a person and take influence from the player, depending on their relationship.

I think, as the de facto companion for his faction, Preston’s arc needs to be directly tied to it. The other companions don’t really have this either, but Preston got the short straw in that he was his faction. Everything came from him and was turned in to him. He became a dispenser for quests instead of one person in this group, with his own ideas about how to run it, his own fears and guilt about how it failed the first time. He doesn’t reflect the Minutemen, their ideals. Who they are as a collective.

Deacon, Danse, and X6 have their own massive writing issues, but it’s clear that they are representations of their factions. Deacon is an all-over-the-place trickster type trying to keep shit together, the Railroad is a clown car trying to smuggle slaves to safety. X6 is a cold, ruthless, logical Terminator, the Institute are cold, sterile, ends-justify-the-means scientists. Danse is a stern, no-nonsense soldier with a good heart under the Power Armor, the Brotherhood is a tight-knit brotherhood, an army with good intentions that often forgets who those good intentions are meant to serve.

Preston...he’s a good guy, a traumatized one. The Minutemen...you have 5 nameless “Minuteman Soldier” NPCs, and Ronnie. So...the Minutemen is Preston, Preston is the Minutemen. He isn’t allowed to be Preston, who is a Minuteman. He’s Preston the Minuteman.

That’s a damn shame.

#preston garvey

181 notes · View notes

layce2015 · 8 months

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Fallen Idols

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

*(y/n)'s POV*

"So, what's with this job?" Sam asked Dean as we drive down the long empty road. "Dude suffers a head-on collision in a parked car? I'd say that's worth checking out." Dean said. "Yeah, definitely, uh, but, uh, we got bigger problems, don't you think?" I asked Dean, curiously. "I'm sure the apocalypse'll still be there when we get back." Dean said and I shake my head.

"Right, yeah, but I mean, if—if the Colt is really out there somewhere—" Sam said but Dean shakes his head. "Hey, we've been looking for three weeks, we got bupkis." Dean said. "Okay. But Dean...I mean, if we're gonna—ice the Devil—" Sam said, a bit cautious, but Dean yells. "This is what we're doing! Okay? End of discussion."

Sam looks away and sighs. "It's just that this is our first real case, back at it together. You know, I, I think we oughta ease into it, put the training wheels back on." Dean said. "So you think I need training wheels." Sam said, questioning. "No, 'we'. 'We' need training wheels, you, me and (y/n). As a team. Okay?" Dean said and Sam nods. "Okay." he said.

"Man, I really want this to be a fresh start, you know? For all of us." Dean said and we all look at each other before Sam nods again. "Okay." Sam said.

Canton, Ohio

The boys and I, wearing suits, show our FBI badges to the sheriff once we enter his office. "Agents Bonham, Page and Copeland." Dean said and the sheriff shakes our hands. "Rick Carnegie. Good to know ya. So you're here on account of Cal Hawkins' death?" he asked us. "That's right." Sam said.

"Well, 'fraid you came a long way for nothing. We already booked the guy that did it." Rick said and the boys and I frown at each other. "I'm sorry; who do you think did it?" I asked him.

Rick takes us to the interview room and has us watching a video. "Cal? Is something wrong?" a guy asked as he comes up to Cal, only to see his head smashed into the windshield. "Oh my God, Cal. Cal!" the guy shouts, frantically, and the video cuts to static. Rick shakes his head, then switches off the TV and drops the remote on the table and turns to us.

"Sicko taped his own handiwork." Rick tells us and we give him a look of confusion. "I don't follow." Sam said. "It was Jim Grossman that killed Cal." Rick said. "Wait, what?" Dean asked. "Well, he was the only one on the scene for miles." Rick said. "They were best friends." I pointed out.

"Most violent crimes are committed by someone close to the victim." Rick said. "And how exactly did Jim slam Cal into a windshield with all the force of an eighty-mile-per-hour crash?" Dean asked him and Rick blinks. "Drugs, maybe?" he suggests, weakly, and Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Look, you know this ain't brain surgery! Whatever it looks like, that's what it usually is. It's simple." Rick said. "Simple. Right." I said, a bit of sarcasm in my voice, then I glance over at the boys. "Right. Um, if you don't mind, we'd like to speak to Jim Grossman anyway." Sam asked.

Later, Jim sits at a table, across from Sam, as Dean and I stand behind Sam. "I was in the house when it happened, I didn't even see it." Jim explains. "For argument's sake, say we believe you." Dean said. "Why would you? The cops didn't." Jim grumbles. "Well we're not your typical cops." I said. "Please, just tell us what you saw." Sam pleads and Jim sighs before he speaks again.

"It's not what I saw, it's what I heard. Tires squealing, glass breaking." he said and he sighs again. "It was the car that did it." he said and I raise my eyebrows. "The car?" Sam asked, confused "I mean, I heard about the curse, but, I just thought it was a load of crap." Jim said.

"Curse, what do you—what do you mean, curse?" Dean asked. "The car. Little Bastard." Jim said and my jaw drops. "Li—Little Bastard? As in the Little Bastard?" I asked, astonished. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, uh, what's Little Bastard?" Sam asked as he turns to us. "It's James Dean's car. It's the one he was killed in." Dean said.

"Yeah, that's the one. Cal had been looking for it for years. I mean, hell, we both had. But he found it first." Jim said and Dean leans closer to Sam. "Oh, we are definitely checking this out." he whispers.

Dean walks around and inspects Little Bastard with awe, careful not to touch, and honestly I was admiring the car as well. The windshield was bloodstained and had a piece missing where Cal's head was. "So, what, this is, like, Christine?" Sam asked and Dean and I shake our heads.

"Christine is fiction. This—This is real." Dean said. "Okay. Enlighten me." Sam said and I roll my eyes. "Well after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up. And it repaid him by...Falling on him." I explained. "And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack. I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece." Dean added and Sam hums at this.

"Then, in nineteen-seventy, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since." I said and Sam nods as Dean continues to look at the car. "I'm telling you, guys, if this—if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy." Dean said.

"So how do we find out?" Sam asked. "Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number." Dean replied and Sam nods. "I'm guessing the engine number—?" Sam asked, trailing the on the question. "On the engine. Yeah." I said then we take our jackets off and the boys had their sleeves rolled, all of us staring at Little Bastard with trepidation.

"You want me or (y/n) to do it?" Sam asked Dean. "No..No, no, I've—I've got it." Dean said then he starts to address Little Bastard. "Okay, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, so...don't hurt me." he said and he lies down on a roller board with a pencil in his mouth, then rolls himself under the car.

He was under there for a bit and I could've sworn i heard the car shudder. Sam then kneels down to look at Dean. "Need a flashlight?" Sam asked him. "No. Don't...do anything, just go away." I hear Dean say, which he sounded a bit startled.

"You—uh, okay." Sam asked. "Don't speak. All right? In fact, don't even look at her, she might not like it." Dean said and Sam stands back up. He looks over at me and huffs out a breath while I shrug.

Then Dean slides out from under the car, exhaling deeply, then stands up quickly. He composes himself, then hands Sam the number. "Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to nineteen-fifty-five." Dean tells him. "That's a lot of research." Sam said to him. "Well, (y/n) can help you." Dean said and he walks away.

It took us a few hours, but Sam and I were able to track down the history of the car. Dean hadn't returned so I called him. "Hey, sweetheart." Dean answered. "Hey. Took us a while, but we traced all the car's previous owners." I said then I put him on speaker so Sam could hear.

"Any of 'em die bloody?" Dean asked. "Nope. In fact—" I said but then I heard the sound of someone playing pool. "Dean, are you in a bar?" I asked him. "No, I—I'm—I'm in a restaurant." Dean said then I hear a female voice say. "Here's your beer."

"Thanks." Dean said and Sam and I share a look, which made Sam smile a bit. "That happens to have a bar." Dean adds. "We've been working our asses off here." Sam said. "Hey, world's smallest violin, pal, I spent the afternoon up Christine's skirt. I needed a drink." Dean said. "Actually, you didn't." I said.

"Meaning?" Dean asked. "The car's first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia; drove it 'til he died in nineteen-seventy-two." Sam said. "So you're saying?" Dean asked. "That Porsche is not, nor has it ever been, James Dean's car. It's a fake Little Bastard." I said.

"Well then what was it that killed the guy?" Dean asked. "Good question." Sam said as I scratch my head.

The next day, the boys and I enter the home of a Mr Hill as we heard he was murdered. We entered the office area to see Rick and a forensic squad inside and Rick was giving orders. "I want you to use a, a fine-tooth comb. The evidence is here, we just gotta find it." Rick ordered.

"Heard you got another weird one." Dean said and Rick turns to us. "Uh, well, it's a—it's a little strange on the surface, I admit, but, uh...you know, once you—you look at the facts..." he stammers. "William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet." Sam said as Rick looks at us, worried.

"Nope. Nothing strange about that." I said, shrugging, with sarcasm. "Well there's gotta be a reasonable explanation. There always is." Rick said. "Well what's your reasonable explanation?" Dean asked him. Rick looks around cautiously for a moment and whispers. "Professional killer."

"Come again?" Sam asked. "Well, CIA, NSA, one o' them trained assassins, like in Michael Clayton." Rick said and the boys and I gape at him. "Right." Dean said then he looks over at me and Sam. "You're welcome to look around, but—but these guys don't leave fingerprints." Rick tells us.

"Mind if we talk with the witness?" Sam asked him. "Be my guest. She's not making any sense! And she's not making any sense in Spanish either." Rick said and I nod, slowly. "Right." I said.

We walk out and see Consuela sitting on a wooden bench, wrapped in a blanket, talking to an officer and sobbing. "No puedo vivir aquí. Necesito mi familia. Me voy ahora. Me voy a la casa. No—me voy a la casa en El Salvador ahora." she cries to the officer as we walk up to her.

"Consuela Alvarez?" Dean asked. "Yes?" she asked as she raises her head to us. "FBI." Dean said as we show her our badges then the officers leave. "Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?" Dean asked her.

"Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!" She explains and Sam kneels in front of her. "Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor. Uh—" Sam said the he looks at us, thinking. "Uh, díganos lo que vio?" He asked and Dean and I grin. "Nice." said Dean. "Freshman Spanish." Sam said, shrugging, then he turns back to Consuela.

"Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes." She said and Sam glances between me, Dean and Consuela as he translates. "Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a—" he said then he gestures at his chin. "A beard?" he asked and Consuela nods. "Beard." he said.

"Y un sombrero." Consuela adds. "Dude was wearing a sombrero?" Dean asked. "Uh, a hat, not a—a—" Sam said as he gestures near his head. "No, no, no, un sombrero alto." she said. "A tall hat?" Sam asked. "Oh, like a top hat." I said and Consuela nods. "Un sombrero alto." She said and she gestures above her head. "Muy alto!" she said.

"What, you mean like a—like a stovepipe hat." Dean said as he imitates her gesture. "Sí." she said. "Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln." I said and Sam shrugs while Consuela starts sobbing again. "Sí. El Presidente Lincoln." she said and the boys and I trade confused looks.

"Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!" she cries and Dean hums. "S-so I go home now?" she asked us. "Uh, sí. Gracias." Sam said. "Gracias." Dean and I said and Sam turns and frowns at us as Consuela walks away.

The three of us sit at the table of our motel room, Sam on his laptop and Dean on a new laptop while I was flipping through John's journal. "Whoa." Dean said and Sam and I turn to him. "What?" we asked as Dean does something on his laptop then he picks it up and turns it around for me and Sam to see. "It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video." he said and Sam and I look at it and we see a chrome car wheel were a figure of a person in a red jacket was reflected off of it

"Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?" Dean asked. "Well, you're crazy, regardless, but yeah that looks like James Dean." I said and Dean glares at me and I give him a smile. "I love you." I said and he shakes his head. "Yeah, yeah..." he grumbles as he sets the laptop back in front of himself.

"So we got Abraham Lincoln, and James Dean?" Dean asked and Sam frowns. "Famous ghosts?" Dean asked. "Maybe." Sam said. "Well that's just silly." I said. "No, actually, uh, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before." Sam said.

"Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?" I said. "Who are apparently ganking their fans." Sam said. "What do you mean?" Dean asked as Sam reads off the webpage on his laptop "Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln." Sam said. "And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car." Dean said and Sam raises his eyebrows, knowingly.

"So you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?" I asked and Sam shrugs. "That's what it looks like." Sam said. "Well, that is muchos loco." Dean grumbles and Sam grins. "Muy." Sam said and Dean and I look up. "Not muchos." Sam corrects Dean.

"Yeah, well, the big question is, what the hell are they doing here?" I asked. "Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House—" Sam said. "And James Dean at a race track, but...what the hell are they doing in Canton?" Dean asked and I shrug.

Later, Sam was working on his laptop while I brought a couple cans of soda for me and Dean and we were drinking from it when Sam stops typing and frowns. "You gotta be kidding me." Sam said. "What?" Dean and I asked and we walk over and read the screen. "Oh God." I muttered. "You gotta be kidding me." Dean said.

Sometime later, Dean, Sam and I walk through the wax museum, checking out the figures. Sam and I walk past John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, then I stop at Abraham Lincoln. Dean frowns at Gandhi. "Dude, he's short." Dean said as he gestures at Gandhi.

"Hey. Gandhi was a great man." Sam said. "Yeah, for a Smurf." Dean snarks just as the owner comes down the stairs at a half-jog, slightly out of breath. He is wearing a leather jacket.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year." he said and Dean looks around at the empty rooms. "This is busy?" he asked. "Well, not right now, but it's early." the owner said. "It's four-thirty." Dean points out and the owner ignores him.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked. "Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine." Sam said. "Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are." Dean adds and I roll my eyes. "That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need." the owner said. "Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean." I said. "Two of our most popular displays." the owner said.

"Oh yeah? So they bring in a lot of visitors?" Sam asked. "Yeah, we have our regulars." the owner replied. "I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?" Dean. Asked and the owner nods. "As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh—you—that's not gonna be in the article, is it?" he asked us.

"No. No, no. 'Course not." Sam assures the owner. "You know, I gotta tell you, that—that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you—I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?" Dean asked and the owner frowns. "Uh...no." he said. "No?" Dean asked.

"Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?" I asked him. "Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere." the owner replied. "How so?" Dean asked.

"Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat." the owner said as he points to Lincoln. "It is?" I asked. "Almost like his remains." Dean mutters and looks pointedly at me and Sam. The owner frowns. "Uh...I guess?" he said and Dean grins.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?" I asked the owner. "Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This." he said and he indicates the leather jacket he's wearing.

"And who did that belong to?" Sam asked him. "The Fonz. Seasons two through four!" he said and he does a double thumbs-up, grinning. "That is pretty cool. You're lucky an old friend of mine isn't here with us. She'd be trying to buy that jacket off of you. Hugh Fonzie fan, she is." I said and the owner smiles.

"This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids." He said. "The kids?" Dean asked. "Yeah, Gen Y." the owner said and Dean nods. "Computer games, cell phones, sexting." The owner said and I raise my eyebrows.

"They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again." He said and he grins and gives his double thumbs-up again. Dean chuckles and Sam and I return the thumbs-up.

Sam opens the trunk of the Impala, and we take out a couple of shotguns and load them with shells of rock salt, then put the loaded shotgun back in and Sam closes the lid. We go back into our room and see Dean talking on his cell phone, facing away from the door.

"Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that? ...Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is. ...Well I'm sorry, but it's true." Dean said and I sigh as Sam frowns then pushes the door shut, causing Dean to spin around.

"I'll call you later. Bye." he said into the phone and hangs up and turns to us. "What's going on?" I asked him, folding my arms. "Did you two get the trunk packed up?" he asked. "Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?" Sam asked. "Bobby." Dean said. "And?" I asked and Dean shakes his head.

"Nothing." Dean said and I roll my eyes and glare at him. "So we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?" Sam asked and Dean shrugs. "Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat." Dean said. "This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean." Sam said as Dean picks up his jacket.

"Well, this is about as fresh as it gets. Now are we going or not?" Dean said and I look over at Dean as he walks pass me. "Dean..." I said, warningly. He stares at me then goes to the door, opens it and leaves. Sam and I watch him go and Sam sighs.

"I'm sorry, Sam." I said. "No, it's fine..." he mutters and I place a hand on his shoulder. "All I can say is...just give him time...I know it sucks but...that's all I can say..." I said and I go to the door and open it, Sam follows close behind me as we leave.

We walk through the museum, past Gandhi. Dean approaches Lincoln and takes off his hat as Sam fetches a metal trash can and I look around the room. I turn around to find Dean wearing Lincoln's hat. "Check it out." he said then he lowers his voice, imitating Lincoln. "Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat." he said

"Dean." Sam said, exasperated, as he turns to him and I shake my head. Sam sighs and puts the trash can down, holding his hand out for the hat. "We can't have any fun with this?" Dean asked and he takes the hat off and tosses it into the trash can.

"Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?" I said and Dean nods. "I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain." he said and he walks into the next room. Sam and I scan the room. I look at Lincoln, then narrow my eyes and lean in closer. Then the double doors Dean went through slam shut, making me and Sam spin around.

"Dean?" Sam and I call out as we go over to the doors, shotgun in hand. "Dean?" we call out again as we try the door handles but the doors won't budge. Then I notice our breathes condensing in front of us and we spin around, shotgun held at the ready.

Sam and I look from Lincoln to Gandhi and back again as we creep forward slowly. Sam and I hear a creak to our left and we turn. The shotguns flies out of our hands. Defenseless, we stand still for a second then I see Gandhi leaping onto Sam's back.

"Sam!" I shouted as Gandhi wraps his arms around Sam's neck but Sam slams him into the wall and Gandhi falls off. "Go grab his glasses!" Sam shouts to me as Gandhi gets up and they circle around each other while I run to Gandhi's wax figure.

I grab the glasses as Gandhi starts to strangle Sam and I run to the trash bin. At that moment, Dean bursts through the double doors. "Dean!" Sam said as I throw the glasses into the trash bin with the other items. "Is that Gandhi?" Dean asked. "Yeah!" Sam said. "Dude, he's squirrelly." Dean said as I squirt lighter fluid on them and finally light them on fire with a match. Gandhi disappears, and Sam gasps for air.

I run over to Sam and kneel down next to him, to check him over. "You okay?" I asked and he nods. "You couldn't have been a fan of someone cool?" Dean asked and Sam and I stare at him. "Really? Gandhi?" Dean asked and I shake my head.

Dean grabs his shirts out of a drawer and shoves them in his bag after we made our way back to the motel. "Ready to blow this joint?" Dean asked us as I pack up my stuff. Sam comes out of the bathroom, zipping up his toiletries bag. "Guys, didn't it strike you as strange the way Gandhi just...vanished?" Sam asked.

"Strange how?" Dean asked. "No screaming, no big flame-out, I mean, that isn't the way ghosts usually go." Sam said and I think this over. He's actually right, it was different. "Still, (y/n) torched, he vanished." Dean said. "Yeah, but I—" Sam sighs. "Also, I feel like he was...trying to take a bite out of me."

"A bite?" I asked, confused. "Yeah, like he was hungry. But the thing is, Gandhi—or, the real Gandhi—he was a—" Sam stops and looks a bit embarrassed. "A what?" Dean and I asked and Sam hesitates. "Spit it out." Dean said, annoyed. "He was a fruitarian." Sam said and we stare at him then Dean laughs.

"Let me get this straight. Your, uh, ultimate hero was not only a short man in diapers, but he was also a fruitarian?" Dean asked. "That's not the point." Sam said, exasperated. "That is good. That is—even for you, that is good." Dean said. "Look, I'm just saying, I'm not so sure this thing is over." Sam said and Dean spreads his arms. "It was a ghost. It was a weirdly super-charged fruitarian ghost, but it was still a ghost. Now let's go." Dean said as he picks up his bag.

"So first you drag me into town, and now you're dragging me back out." Sam said, annoyed. "You ain't steering this boat. Let's go, chop chop." Dean said and he walks towards the door. "You know, this isn't gonna work." Sam said and Dean stops and turns.

"What isn't?" Dean asked. "Us. You, me, (y/n), together, I—I thought it could, but it can't." Sam said and I frown at Sam. "You're the one that wanted back in, chief." Dean said. "And you're the one who called me back in." Sam argued. "I still think we got some trust building to do." said Dean and Sam sighs.

"How long am I gonna be on double-secret probation?" Sam asked and Dean shrugs. "Till I say so." Dean said and I scoff. "Dean..." I said, exasperated, then Sam speaks up again. "Look. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier." he tells Dean.

"So what am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook?" Dean asked. "No. You can think whatever you want. I deserve it, and worse. Hell, you'll never punish me as much as I'm punishing myself, but the point is, if we're gonna be a team, you and I—it has to be a two-way street." Sam explains.

"So we just go back to the way we were before?" Dean asked, suspiciously. "No, because we were never that way before. Before didn't work." Sam said and Dean and I frown. "How do you think we got here?" Sam asked and Dean narrows his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. "Dean, one of the reasons I went off with Ruby...was to get away from you." Sam said and this caught me off guard. "What?" Dean said, just as shocked. "It made me feel strong. Like I wasn't your kid brother." Sam said.

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Dean asked. "No, it's my fault. All I'm saying is that, if we're gonna do this, we have to do it different, we can't just fall into the same rut." Sam said and Dean shakes his head. "What do you want me to do?" Dean asked. "You're gonna have to let me grow up, for starters." Sam said as Dean's cellphone rings.

He stares at Sam, then puts his bag down and answers it. "Yeah?" he answered and he looks to Sam then away again. Sam and I share a look and I give him a look of pity and said, quietly. "I'm so sorry." Sam shakes his head. "It's ok. Don't be." He said while Dean continued to talk on the phone.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He said then he hangs up. "I guess you were right about this not being over." Dean said as he looks at Sam.

The boys and I, in suits, make our way back to the sheriff's office and see Rick sitting at his desk. "Sheriff Carnegie?" Sam said and he looks up at us. "Sheriff, what happened?" Dean asked and Rick looked stunned.

"I, uh, uh..." he stammers as he shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't know!" he said and he leads us to the interview room where two young women are sitting at the table, crying. We walk in. "Excuse us, girls. Hi, we're with the FBI." I said as we walk in. "Can you tell us what happened?" Sam asked them.

"It was horrible!" One girl said. "Way horrible." the other girl said. "What was horrible?" I asked them. "I thought she'd be nice!" the first girl said as her friend looks at her. "I still can't believe it." she said, distressed.

"Believe what?" Dean asked them. "She took Danielle!" the second girl exclaims. "Who?" Dean asked and the girls look at each other. "It's okay, you're safe, just, tell us. Who took your friend?" Sam asked. "It was...Paris Hilton." The first girl said and the boys and I share a confused look.

"Sorry?" I asked them as I turn to them. "She looked really good, though." the second girl said. "Skinny!" the first girl adds. "Skinny and fast." said the second girl. "What—wait—huh?" Dean asked, completely confused.

"Uh, um...where did they go?" Sam asked them and the first girl shakes her head. "We don't know." the first girl said. "They just vanished." the second girl said. "Would you excuse us for just a minute?" Dean said to them and we walk back to the doorway and speak just above a whisper.

"Paris Hilton's not dead as far as we know, right?" Dean asked. "Pretty sure, no." Sam said. "Which means it's not a—" Dean said and I finish his sentence. "Ghost. No." I said.

"So, what? Paris Hilton is a homicidal maniac—" Dean asked. "Or we missed something." Sam said and I sigh. "What do you wanna do?" I asked them.

Now in blue scrubs, I was looking through Cal's file and read through the notes. I frown when I find something pretty odd. Minutes later, I pull out Cal's body from the freezer and use a scalpel to cut open Cal's chest, then push my gloved hand inside. There is a squelch and I close my eyes and breath out. "That's right." I groan, frowning.

I pull my hand out, fingers covered in blood, and hold up two small round things. "What the hell?" I muttered, confused.

Back in my suit, I come out of the building to meet up with the boys, shaking my head and sigh. "I can't believe I missed it." I said as they stand up and walk with me back to the Impala. "Missed what?" Dean asked me. "Went back over the other two vics. There was blood loss. Major." I explained. "Oh, well, being a gory smear will do that to you." Dean said, sarcastically. "No, I—I mean more blood loss than a—a car crash or a head wound should cause, almost like it—" I said. "Something's feeding." Sam said and I nod and point. "Exactly." I said.

"Awesome." Dean mutters. "And then—" i said as I take out a plastic bag. "There were these." I said and the boys look at the bag, which contains these two round seeds. Dean picks up the corner to inspect them closer, Sam leans in to inspect as well.

"What are those, seeds?" Sam asked me. "Yeah. They were in both vics' bellies." I said and Dean takes his hand off the bag quickly. "I hope you washed your hands." Dean said and I give him a seriously? look. Then I raise my hand and wipe my fingers across his face and he recoils at this. "Agh, damn it, (y/n)." Dean said and I laugh at him as Sam takes the bag to look at the seeds.

"They're unlike any seed I've ever seen before, Dean." Sam said as he looks at the bag. "Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any geekier." Dean said then he pats Sam on the shoulder and gets into the Impala.

Back at the motel, Sam is on his laptop again, the seeds out of their bag and sitting on the table next to him. Dean and I were sitting on the bed using our own laptops. "Yahtzee." Sam said and we look over at him. "What?" Dean and I asked.

"The seeds aren't from around here. In fact, they're not from any tree or plant in the country." Sam said. "Where are they from?" Dean asked. "Eastern Europe. From a forest in the Balkans, which is not even there anymore. It was chopped down, like, thirty years ago." Sam explained.

"So?" Dean and I said. "So, local legend has it that the forest was guarded by a pagan god whose name was Leshi. Um, a mischievous god, could take on infinite forms—" Sam said. "And let me guess. He liked to munch on his fans." I said and Sam chuckles. "Yep. Could be appeased only with the blood from his worshippers. It would drain 'em, then stuff their stomachs with the seeds." he said and we get up and go over to Sam.

"So how's he doing it? What, he touches James Dean's keychain and then morphs into James Dean?" Dean asked. "Hm. It's as good a guess as any." Sam said. "Yeah, well, whatever. How do we kill him?" I asked. "Says here to chop off his head with an iron axe." Sam said and Dean nods. "All right. Let's go gank ourselves a Paris Hilton." I said

That night, we enter the museum, Dean carrying an axe and Sam and I with flashlights. We walk past the now hatless Abraham Lincoln wax model then we split up and search separate rooms. I come across a door with signs on it reading "Sorry for the inconvenience, CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS" and "DANGER DO NOT ENTER".

I whistle and Dean and Sam meet up with me. We break the latch and open the door, pushing through a plastic sheet to find a room decorated like a clearing in the woods, with a path leading up the middle to a white house with a wax figure of a man in a suit standing on the front porch.

I notice a young woman, who must be Danielle, standing next to a tree and tied by her wrists to it. "Hey." I said as I run over and check her pulse. "She alive?" Dean asked me. "Yeah. Barely." I said then the axe flies out of Dean's hand and embeds itself in a tree on the other side of the path.

Dean spins around to find Paris Hilton; this must be the Leshi. She grins and punches Dean multiple times in the face, sending him to the ground, then she punches Sam, knocking him down. She flips her hair as I lunge at her, but she shoves me and sends me flying across the room. I collide with the front wall of the house and fall to the ground, unconscious.

*3rd Person POV*

Dean shakes his head and looks up to see the Leshi standing over him. "Awesome." she said and she raises her stiletto-clad foot and stomps on Dean's face.

Later, the Lezhi sits on a tree stump near the house with another tree stump serving as a table next to her. Laid on it are various knives; she picks one up and begins filing her nails, causing small sparks. Dean, (y/n) and Sam are tied to three trees side-by-side, in the same fashion as Danielle. They wake up one after the other and struggle for a second before they realize where they are.

"Oh. I'm so glad you're awake for this. This is gonna be huge." Leshi said as the trio look at each other. "Super. Yeah, I wouldn't wanna miss it." Dean said, sarcastically, as he pulls at his ropes discreetly. "I mean, I've been stuffing myself with fast food lately. So it's nice to do the ritual right. Prepare a nice, slow meal for a change." Leshi said.

"Just like the good old days, huh?" Sam asked and Leshi chuckles. "You have no idea. People adored me. They used to throw themselves at me, with smiles on their faces." she said. "Yeah, I guess these days nobody gives a flying crap about some backwoods forest god, huh?" (y/n) sneers and Leshi stops filing her nails with a threatening glare.

"No. Not since they cut down my forest and built a Yugo plant." she growls. "March of progress, sister." Dean said and Leshi files her nails a few more times. "For years now, I've been wandering. Hungry. Scared. Scrounging for scraps. So not sexy." she said as Dean makes a face.

"But then, the best thing ever happened." Leshi said then she puts the knife down. "Someone tripped the apocalypse. And I thought, what the hell, I'm tired of watching what I eat. I wanna pig out. So I found this little place. It's awesome. Adoring fans stroll right in the door." she said. "Yeah. But they're not your fans." Sam said.

"So? They worship Lincoln, Gandhi, Hilton...whatever. I'll take what I can get." Leshi said, shrugging. "You know, I gotta tell you, you are not the first god we've met, but you are...the nuttiest." (y/n) said and Leshi scoffs. "No, you, you people, you're the crazy ones. You used to worship gods. But this?" she said as she indicates her Paris Hilton disguise.

"This is what passes for idolatry? Celebrities? What have they got besides small dogs and spray tans?" she asked and Sam frowns while Dean and (y/n) raise their eyebrows, nodding. "You people used to have old-time religion. Now you have Us Weekly." Leshi said. "I don't know, I'm more of a Penthouse Forum man myself." Dean said as he winks then clicks his tongue at Leshi.

She gets up and stalks over to him. "Maybe, but...there's still a lot of yummy meat on those bones, boy." she said. "Well I hate to break it to you, sister, but, uh...you can't eat me. See, I'm not a Paris Hilton BFF. I've never even seen House of Wax." Dean said and Sam looks at Dean, frowning.

cNo. But I can totally read your mind, Dean. I know who your hero is. Your daddy. Am I right?" Leshi asked and Dean doesn't reply. She smirks and walks over to the tree with the axe embedded in it.

When her back is turned, Dean and (y/n) pull at their ropes. "And this belonged to him. Didn't it? Poor little Dean. All you ever wanted was to be loved by your idol. One distant father figure, coming right up." Leshi said and she goes to touch the axe when Dean finally pulls his wrist free of the ropes. He sprints across the clearing and tackles the Leshi to the floor.

Sam pulls desperately at his ropes as the Leshi manages to kneel on top of Dean and punches him repeatedly in the face. (y/n) pulls free then tackles the Leshi and the two fight. Sam finally pulls free and dashes over the clearing. Dean gets up and throws the Leshi off of (y/n) as Sam pulls the axe from the tree.

Dean and (y/n) move away as Sam brings the axe down five times on the Leshi's neck. Her head rolls free of her body and Sam pants in exertion, his face covered in blood. Dean goes over to (y/n) and helps her up on her feet. As she gets on her feet, she starts to laugh at him and he holds up a finger while Sam grins.

"Not a word." Dean warns her. "Dude. You just got whaled on by Paris Hilton!" Sam said and Dean turns to him. "Shut up." he growls and (y/n) warps her arms around his middle. "Aww, my poor, big, strong man, getting beating up by a petite reality star." She said, in a mocking tone. Dean growls under his breath while Sam and (y/n) laughs.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The next morning, the boys and I, carrying our bags, walk to the Impala while Dean is talking on his cell phone. "Uh-huh. All right. Thank you." Dean said and he hangs up. "Sheriff Carnegie. Danielle's gonna be all right. She's sworn off The Simple Life, but other than that—" Dean said. "Glad she's okay." Sam said and I nod. "Me too." I said.

"It gets better. Sheriff's putting out an APB on Paris Hilton." Dean chuckles. "That oughta be good." I giggle as Dean takes out his keys and opens the trunk of the Impala and we put our bags inside. Then Dean turns to Sam.

"Hey, listen, I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About me keeping too tight of a leash on you." He said and Sam looks at him. "Hell, maybe you're right. I mean, look, I'm not exactly Mister Innocent in this whole mess either, you know. I did break the first seal." Dean said. "You didn't know." Sam said, trying to assure him. "Yeah, well, neither did you." Dean said and Sam looks down.

"I'm not saying demon blood was a great way to go, but, you did kill Lilith." Dean said to him. "And start the apocalypse." Sam said. "Which neither of us saw coming, I mean, who'd have thought killing Lilith would've been a bad thing?" I asked and the boys shrug as if to say good point.

"Point is, I was so worried about watching your every move that I didn't see what it was actually doing to you." Dean said as he looks over at Sam. "So, for that I'm sorry." he said and Sam nods. "Thanks." he said and Dean closes the trunk and takes the keys.

"So where do we go from here?" I asked them. "They way I see it, we got one shot at surviving this." Sam said. "What's that?" Dean asked. "Maybe I am on deck for the devil, maybe same with you and Michael, maybe same with (y/n) and Ariel, maybe there's no changing that." Sam said. "Well that's encouraging." Dean said. "But, we can stop wringing our hands over it. We gotta just grab onto whatever's in front of us, kick its ass, and go down fighting." Sam said and Dean considers this, then nods.

"I can get on board with that." he said and I nod. "Same here." I said and Sam nods. "Okay. But we're gonna have to do it on the same level." Sam said and Dean grins slightly. "You got it." he said and Sam nods again.

"I say we get the hell outta here." I said and Sam smiles. "Hell yeah." Sam said and we turn to go to their respective sides of the car, but Dean stops and looks down at the keys.

"Hey." Dean calls out and Sam turns around, then Dean holds out the keys. "You wanna drive?" he asked and Sam looks down at the keys. "You sure?" Sam asked him. "Yeah, I could, uh...I could use a nap." Dean said and Sam smiles a little and Dean hands him the keys.

Sam smiles and we get into the Impala and head out.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

58 notes · View notes

lassieposting · 2 months

Text

Actually. While I'm on the subject of alt!Serpine helping out Skug on cases

Things that would be hilariously awkward about civilian consultant serpine: he'd know all the high-level perps

Imagine being a former Big Bad having to explain to all your ex-associates from Team Bad Guy that you're with the cops now. Imagine being someone like Christophe Nocturnal, handcuffed to an interrogation table on suspicion of like, murder, and then the door opens and in walks a guy who you know for sure has not only killed way more people than you, but also straight up tortured-to-death the cop doing the interrogation. And the bastard still seems more interested in pressing charges against you.

Imagine the awkward commiseration, like. It takes a moment to register and in that moment the perp locks eyes with Serpine and automatically goes like "Ugh, got you too, did they?" and Nef just sort of freezes because actually he just came in here for his weekly Thursday morning ritual of Obscenely Eat Croissant In Front Of Skug To Rub It In That He Can't Have Food Anymore and now he's going to have to explain to his ex-whatever that he kinda sorta sometimes works here now in front of his ex-nemesis. worthy foe. frenemy. whatever-the-fuck-is-going-on-that-we-don't-talk-about

#skulduggery pleasant #skulpine #sp headcanons #nefarian serpine #skug

22 notes · View notes

lunas-nargle · 10 months

Text

↳eight

chapter eight of "meddle about" series brian o'connor x reader

viii. betrayal

Later that night, people forgot about the whole fight thing and now were partying. Brian walked through the crowd and towards the trailer, where he thought Y/n would be hanging out in.

He opened the door, calling her name but she wasn't there. Suddenly, he heard her shouting from outside.

"I have respected you and I haven't said shit," she said, as he peaked out. He saw Mia, Monty, and Leon, leaning against Vince's car. "And now I am asking you not to go."

"Y/n, I'm doing this for us." Dom said, glancing at Mia. "For all of us."

"No, don't give me that shit." Y/n spat, backing away. "You're doing this for you."

"Why are you asking me to stay?" Dom walked towards her making her step back.

"Why are you insisting on doing this? Dom, please, just don't." Y/n sighs in frustration, tears flooding her eyes as Mia tries to calm her down. She pushed her hands off and stocked away.

"Y/n, what's going on?" Brian asked, coming up behind her.

"What?" Y/n said, as calmly as she could.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't, Brian."

"Oh, so what, you always have tears in your eyes when Dom drives away?" Brian asked, frustrated.

"What is the matter with you?" Y/n asked, getting a little pissed.

"Come on." Brian said, his voice getting louder. "What's your cousin racing off in the middle of the night for?! I'm talking about the trucks. You know about the trucks?!"

"No, Brian!" Y/n yelled back. "What trucks?! Jesus Christ." Brian grabbed onto her arm, stopping her. "What?"

"Listen to me." Brian said, trying to keep himself calm. "Y/n, I'm a cop."

Y/n mouth parted in shock, as her eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about, Brian? What is this?"

"Ever since the first time I met you, I've been undercover." Brian explained. "I'm a cop."

Y/n looked into his eyes, praying, wishing even, to find a sliver of a lie in them but she saw none. "Oh, you bastard." she whispered, her voice full of fury. She clenched her teeth and started to walk away. Brian tried to catch her by the arm again but she just pushed him away. "Get off of me, Brian!"

"Y/n, listen to me!" he said, catching her flailing arms by the wrists. His heart clenched as the look of betrayal was painted all across her face. "Everything I said about you was real. I swear to god. You have to believe me, Y/n. But right now, this isn't about you and me. Your cousin's out there and he's about to pull a job and we're running out of time.

"Those truckers, they're not laying down anymore. And you know, maybe they'll make it out tonight, but every single law enforcement agency in California's coming down on 'em. If you don't want anything to happen to your Dom, to Letty, to Leon, to Vince...to Mia," Y/n face fell, worried, as tears filled her eyes.

"You have to just get in that car with me right now. You have to help me. Y/n, you are the only person that can help me right now. Please, Y/n." Y/n looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking long and hard. "Please, help me."

"Civics are stashed somewhere outside of Thermal." Y/n informed, looking down at the had in her hand as Brian sped down the road.

"And they wouldn't double back, and Highway 10's just way too well patrolled." Brian replied. "So, what does that leave us with then?"

"That leaves us with all of this." Y/n said. Brian looked down at the map before reaching for his phone. He dialed a number before pressing it up to his ear.

"Yeah, this is officer Brian O'Conner." he said, making Y/n look at him astounded. "Serial number 34762. I need a cell phone trace. Y/n, what's the cell number?" Y/n looked away from him, blinking more tears away. God, can this dude just tell the truth for once, Y/n thought. "Come on, Y/n. She needs Dom's cell phone number now."

She held out her hand, letting Brian drop the phone into her palm. Y/n placed it up to her ear, looking back at Brian. With a shaky voice, she started listing off the numbers, "323-555-6439."

Brian could tell Y/n was angry but he couldn't resolve it just yet, not until they were done with all of this. "Thank you." he said as she dropped the phone back into his hand. He placed the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah, you get that?"

After a few minutes, the phone started to ring once again. "Yeah." Brian answered. After a few seconds, he hung up and grabbed the map from her hands. "Let me see this." He glanced from the road to the map a few times. "All right, I think we're about 40 miles away."

"What are you gonna do?" Y/n asked, worried for her friends and family. When he didn't answer, she repeated herself. "What are you gonna do?"

Brian didn't answer, he just sped down the road with a determined look in his eyes.

They soon reached northbound 86. Down the road, Y/n noticed a black car parked alongside it. She then saw two figures running out from the brush beside the car. She felt her breath quicken as they went faster and soon they saw the semi-truck and a black car racing beside it.

The black car stopped but Brian sped faster, pulling up beside the truck. There Y/n saw Vince hanging from the side, his arm caught in a thread of wire while a fresh bullet wound dripped from his side.

She helped Brian quickly pop the roof off the car. "Here." he said. "Take the wheel."

"What?!" Y/n shouted.

"Take the wheel!" he repeated. "Put your foot on the gas. I'm gonna get him. Put your foot on the gas."

"Okay, okay!" Y/n shouted, leaning over and placing her foot on the gas as he let her take control of the car from the passenger seat. He stood up from his seat, saying, "Come on. Keep it steady."

"Okay, got it!" This was probably the craziest thing Y/n has ever done but she kept her composure as much as she could as Brian crouched on the frame of the door.

"Hey, he's having a hard time holding on!" he shouted. "Get me a little closer!"

"Alright." As directed, Y/n drifted a little closer to the truck.

"Closer!"

"Moving in!"

"Hold it right there!"

"Go!" Once Y/n shouted, Brian threw himself onto the side of the truck. Y/n slipped into the driver's seat once she saw Brian "safely" on the side of the truck. He shouted commands at Vince after he got his arm free. Brian picked him up and held him close to his body.

"Y/n, come a little closer!" Overwhelmed by the moment, Y/n didn't obey. "Y/n, get closer!" She finally snapped out of it before she drifted closer once again. "Come on! Come on, Vince! Here we go!"

Suddenly, Vince was thrown on top of the car. He weakly slid into the passenger seat, holding onto his bleeding side.

Y/n heard a gunshot ripple as Brian jumped onto the car. He gripped onto the windshield as the truck rammed into the side. Y/n lost control of the car, making it skid to a halt on the side of the dusty road.

"Holy shit." Y/n mumbled as she breathed in and out, deeply.

Brian slid off the road, grabbing onto Y/n's face to look for any injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Brian said, urgently, but Y/n shook her head, unable to speak from the amount of shock she was in.

The sound of Vince groaning brought her back. "Oh, god, no." Y/n got out of the car, and helped Brian drag him out of the passenger seat and onto the tall brush. Not long after, one of the black cars containing Leon, Letty, and Dom skid to a halt on the side of the road. Dom and Leon got out but Dom was the only one that walked down to check him.

"Come on, Vince!" Brain shouted, as he wrapped his belt around his bleeding arm. "Hang in there. Come on!"

Dom fell to his knees beside him, moving Y/n out of the way. "If we don't get him an ambulance in ten minutes, he's dead."

"Hold this." Brian said, pulling Y/n's hand closer to the belt to hold it in place. "Just like that. Don't let go. Hold his arm."

"Vince!" Y/n began to panic as Dom held pressure onto the bullet wound.

Brian pulled out his phone and put it up to his ear. "Yeah. Yeah, this is officer Brian O'Conner." Dom looked at who he thought was his friend with a betrayed look. Brian held eye contact with Dom as he continued. "I'm off-duty L.A.P.D. I need a Life Flight roll out right away. My 20 is, uh, Highway 86, mile marker 147."

Brian held his phone with his shoulder, as he grabbed onto Vince's arm once again. "I got one trauma victim, about 24 years of age. Six feet, maybe 200 pounds." Dom gritted his teeth in anger. "He's got a real deep laceration to his right arm with arterial bleeding."

Dom looked towards his cousin, but the look on her face made him stay silent. "He's gotta -- a shotgun wound. Close range to his left flank. Yeah. Yeah, and he's going into shock." Brian hung up and went back to aiding Vince.

Y/n sighed in relief when she saw the helicopter come into view. They strapped Vince onto a stretcher and quickly moved him to the helicopter. Brian helped the EMT's load him into the copter.

Dom looked at Y/n before walking off towards his car. Y/n looked between Brian and Dom, conflicted on which she should choose. Dom shouted for her to get into the car. And with one last glance at Brian, she obeyed.

#brian oconner x reader #brian o'conner #fast and furious #fast and furious x reader

58 notes · View notes