#*slams fist on table* LET THEM BE BROTHERS AGAIN

[entitled-fangirl]

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

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Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage. 

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!" 

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense. 

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena. 

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words. 

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground. 

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall. 

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands. 

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded. 

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand. 

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted. 

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right. 

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings. 

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena. 

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes. 

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester. 

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle. 

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders. 

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor. 

Nothing could ease his worries. 

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side. 

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him. 

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over. 

"It hurts… please, Cregan…" 

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked. 

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him. 

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime. 

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white. 

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied. 

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to. 

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride. 

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

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[hoodielord]

Batman vs Jazz: Trolley problem.

Her bruised hands rested on the table in front of her. The room was grey and dismal. The cold stare of Batman trying to burn a hole in her or drill the confession out of her. She swallowed the lump in her throat because she knew that she had to do it. It was them or her baby brother. She had to. She turned her gaze back to Batman.

“You know the trolley problem, don’t you Batman?”

He didn’t answer. But she continued.

“On a railroad, there are two paths one person is tied to one of them. Several other people on the other.” She gestures to the left and right. Her cuffs clattered on the metal table.

“There is a trolley barreling toward the two paths. And you're in front of the level that could switch the tract. Do you let it run over that one person or several people?”

Batman’s cold stare remains.

Jazz continues. “You’ve been known to have a “no-kill” rationale for your work. So what would you do? Which track would you take?” 

Still, he remains silent.

“Let’s switch up the scenario. Say that your family was on one track and the person you hurt your family was on the other. What would you do?” 

“Ms. Fenton..”

“Don’t!” She slammed her fists into the table. “Don’t call me that.”

Tears were filling her eyes.

Silent returned to the interrogation room.

“They were going to kill him….I had to save him. He’s my little brother….They were my parents but they …they did this to him.”

“Ms….Jasmine…”

Jazz interrupts him “What would you have done?!” she screams as tears run down her face as she stares at Batman.

“I saved him but I had to… I had to..” her voice softens as she trails off her gaze returning to the metal table.

When she looks up again, it’s to an empty room, her only company is her reflection on the one-way window.

===

“That was from B’s latest interrogation.”

“Thanks, Babs.”

“ No problem, Jason.”

In Crime Alley, Red Hood rubs the scar along his neck where a batarang had nearly killed him.

[grandline-fics]

the fic you just posted of them hurting their s/o while not in control could you do the same scenario with Luffy, Ace and Sabo :3

DESCRIPTION: They hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit

WARNINGS: angst, descriptions of injury, hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Lufy, Ace, Sabo | Zoro, Law, Shanks, Mihawk , Crocodile, Kid

WORDS: 2,224

A/N: I finally managed to come up with scenarios for the brothers and I hope you're happy with the result. Thank you for the request!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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LUFFY

The first thing Luffy saw when he finally snapped out of the strange haze of pure aggression that had possessed him was the horrific sight of your body being hit by his gum-gum whip. One second you were doubled over his arm and as the impact hit you were thrown back at a forceful, blinding speed with no one being able to react in time to stop you from hitting the ground. They could only watch as you crashed loudly against the floor and tumbled, the momentum carrying you until you slid to a stop in a crumbled heap. 

Usually energetic and first to act, Luffy found himself completely frozen as he stood and stared only at your form finding it unrecognisable. No, it couldn’t be you. You looked so tiny as he watched Chopper hurry to your side and roll you over to check on your injuries. Your body was limp and bloodied and it was his fault. Slowly Luffy looked down at his shaking hands and he glared at them as he grit his teeth so tightly he felt like his own jaw would snap under the pressure and if it did, then it was the least he deserved. 

When everyone was safely on the Sunny and Chopper was tending to your wounds, the others filled Luffy in on what happened. None of them knew something was wrong until it was too late. One minute they were watching Luffy effortless deal with his opponent as he usually did. The next his opponent had done something to him just before falling unconscious. Then everyone was trying to reach their Captain and calm him as he suddenly went on a rampage. Incoherently he was yelling out attacks and throwing them out at random. For the longest time they all held their own and were able to dodge Luffy’s attacks but sadly you got hit just as the rampage.

No matter how much everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, Luffy ignored them. He’d done the worst thing imaginable. Yes, he’d fought Usopp and Sanji, and even Zoro in the past but those were in fights they both agreed to. What he’d done to you… again the image of you getting hit flashed in his head and he sharply slammed his fist on the table, leaving the kitchen and ignored Sanji’s call that dinner would soon be ready. Instead he continued walking until he was perched on Sunny’s head. Throwing himself down, Luffy tightly shut his eyes and tried to shut everything and everyone out.  

You woke a day later, pain flaring through your body dizzyingly. Even when you tried to sit up as slowly and as carefully as you could, it was still too much and you could only let out a shuddering gasp and had to go even slower. Exhausted you finally managed to sit up and blinked to notice the iconic straw hat of your Captain and boyfriend on the bed. It must have been set on you while you were sleeping and moved when you’d woken. Gingerly you let your fingers skim the edge of the hat and you pulled it closer. “I’m sorry.” You looked to see Luffy enter, it almost seemed wrong that he wasn’t wearing the hat. 

He knelt on the floor and folded his arms on the bed, looking up at you sadly. As much as he wanted to punish himself, he couldn’t bring himself to be apart from you. Your free hand lightly moved to run through his head. “Why do I have your hat, Luffy?”

“I wanted to show you how sorry I am. It’s my treasure…but you’re more important to me. Forgive me?”

“Luffy, there’s nothing to forgive.” You told him softly, using all the strength you could to lift his hat back onto his head where it belonged, relieved to see the visible weight on Luffy’s shoulders lift. It hadn’t mattered to him what the others said, he needed to hear it from you and only you to know you didn’t hate him. Only your opinion mattered and to know you still loved him and looked at him the same way was all he needed. 

ACE

He was a monster, this proved it. Ace knew that it was only a matter of time before his evil blood reared its ugly head and made him unrecognisable, made him act against his morals and instincts. Although technically it was an enemy Devil Fruit user that controlled him, ordered him to destroy everything in his path and hurt those he loved, the end result was still the same. A switch had been flipped in his mind and he became a mindless, destructive force of fire and choking ash. It was a miracle no one was killed and that was thanks to you but your intervention came at a price.

When Ace woke from his confusion he felt drained and saw the sea prism cuffs on his wrists but what caught his attention was your pained whimper you’d tried to bite back as Marco got to work on healing you. Through the blue flames Ace could see the swirled burn marks against your arm and shoulder. Sickened he looked away from you and saw the destruction he’d caused. Buildings were now smouldering as his flames were dying down, taken care of by his crew while the people who lived in the small town watched on. There was a small clink and Ace blinked to see Izou unlocking the cuffs, holding Ace’s powers at bay. “We took care of the bastard that did this to you. You weren’t the only one he’d terrorised with his ability but you are the last. No one holds you accountable Ace.”

Despite the kind words, Ace still felt himself falling further into self-loathing he hadn’t experienced in a long while. For days he withdrew himself and silently worked with the others to rebuild the village he’d destroyed. He didn’t deserve his family in the Whitebeard crew, his didn’t deserve Pops’ reassurances, he didn’t deserve the tattoo on his back that he’d always displayed proudly. He didn’t deserve you and anytime you tried to approach, Ace made a quick escape. 

At first you decided to give your lover some space to clear his head and work on repairing the village. As much as you’d wanted to do your part, your burns left you unable to do much of the heavier work. Marco had been very insistent that you just sit back and rest and anytime you made a move to so much as look at the tools or materials they were using, the Phoenix would float as if from nowhere and demand to know why you were ignoring his medical orders. During your latest admonishment you felt a stare aimed at you. Looking over you caught Ace’s gaze only to sigh when he quickly lowered his head and walked away. Now it was your turn to ignore Marco and you walked after your boyfriend. You finally caught him on the ship and stood firmly in the doorway, blocking his only escape. 

“No more running Ace. We have to talk about this.” You told him, watching him flinch and look at the ground. “Look at me, Ace. Please.”

“I can’t bear to see that look in your eyes.” He whispered and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What look?” You asked. “Ace, I don’t blame you for my injury. I don’t look at you any differently.”

“Exactly.” He ground out, hands balling against his sides. “You should hate me, see me as the monster I am. I can’t stand to see you still look at me with love in your eyes.”

“Ace I’ll always love you.” You told him, beginning to step forward. Even without looking at you, Ace sensed your advance and responded with a step back. 

“Don’t.”

“I love you Ace.” You reaffirmed. Your fingers reached out to slip around his fist, gently coaxing his hand to relax. “I love you.” You repeated those three impactful words over and over again until you finally felt Ace’s arms wrap around you and let him bury his face into your uninjured shoulder. For every apology that spilled from his lips, you answered with a declaration of love for him, soothing his guilt slowly but surely.

SABO

Normally Sabo would feel nothing but restless excitement to be finally returning to the Revolutionary Army base, to finally see you again. Normally a mission lasting two months would have driven him to make up the time apart to you and promise that his next mission would be short. This time however? He was only returning to quickly give Dragon a report and then demand the next mission available. Preferably the longer the better. Sabo still couldn’t shift the pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach or bring himself to feel anything but shame and heartbreak. He’d hurt you. On your last mission, an enemy had gotten the better of you both and used his ability to make Sabo his mindless puppet, given the simple order of ‘destroy your comrade’ before escaping. 

While you were fiercely strong and capable, Sabo always had just a little bit more of an edge in combat by comparison and with no restraint, he was deadlier than normal. Knowing you had to fight back against your lover if you wanted to both survive this ordeal. Hack and Koala were outside and you were counting on him to pursue your target while you held your own in your fight, in the hopes Sabo would eventually snap out of it. You’d done as you intended but one moment of hesitation was all it took. 

You didn’t react in time and Sabo’s pipe connected against your head, knocking you to the ground. Dazed and in pain, you tried to push yourself to your feet only to freeze when Sabo’s Dragon Talon latched onto your spine. Panic set in and your tried to break free before he properly attacked but in seconds his fingers flexed and you shrieked in agony. Neither of you could tell for certain if the sound of your pain, Koala taking down the target, or the effect of the ability had simply worn off but Sabo released you and staggered back while you passed out from the pain. Had he put any more power into the attack or let it prolong any longer than he had then you would have never been able to walk again. 

While that was a good result, the damage was already done and you had a long road to recovery to take. Unable to face you or what he’d done, Sabo took the mission he was only now returning from. He hadn’t even waited for your to wake. He couldn’t justify acting like nothing had happened. The shame was too great for him to face you. 

“What do you mean there’s no missions?!” Sabo demanded as he stood in Dragon’s office.

“None for you, not until you settle matters here.” His superior explained, keeping his eyes trained on Sabo’s report. “You’re needed more here than out there, Sabo. Now get to the infirmary.” Unable to disobey a direct order, Sabo nodded and did as he was told. He was a fool to hope he could run forever. 

Silently he entered the room to see you diligently working through your physiotherapy exercises. Your steps were still slow but you could see the improvement all thanks to the Revolutionary’s medical team and your own resilience. Hearing the door, you looked up to see Sabo and while you felt relieved to see him home safe, you couldn’t help but feel hurt that he hadn’t said goodbye in the first place. 

“Did you get lost?” You asked lightly, a joke you both always said when the other was away for any longer than a week. Sabo couldn’t bring himself to answer with his usual cheer and playful tone. Instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at the doctor. 

“Could you give us a few minutes?” He requested gently. When the room was empty and you moved to the nearest seat, still finding long periods on your feet to be draining, Sabo cleared his throat. “I know I have a lot of apologising to do and I know none of it is going to change what I did but please know I’d understand if you wanted to end things and won’t object-”

“Hit me, Sabo.” You demanded, shocking Sabo into stopping his rambling. 

“What?”

“Hit me, kick me, whatever you want.” You shrugged, watching him approach you slowly. 

“No! I’d never do that to you.” Sabo refused, crouching down in front of you to remain eye-level. His expression became even more confused when you smirked at him in satisfaction.

“Exactly. You’d never hurt me.” You repeated. “You’d never knowingly or willingly hurt me. You didn’t have to run away. I understood.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just don’t hide from me again, okay?” You asked, reaching out to cup his face. “If I’m to get my strength back I need you here to support me.”

“I’ll never let you down again.” Sabo promised, leaning into your touch and finally allowed himself to feel the warmth and relief of returning home to you.

-----------------------------------------------

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[wonderlanddreamer]

Lean On Me.

[Tommy Shelby × Reader]

Summary - A cute little hurt/comfort one-shot based on this request. When you're hurt during an incident at the Garrison, it's Tommy who notices and takes care of you.

The Garrison was alive with the usual sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversation. It was a typical evening, and you moved behind the bar with ease, offering your gentle smile and kind eyes to each patron who approached. Your sweet demeanor had made you a favorite among the regulars, and your presence was often a calming influence in the boisterous atmosphere.

As you refilled a customer's drink, you noticed the door swing open with a force that made it bang against the wall, causing a few heads to turn sharply. A group of men entered, their loud voices and aggressive postures immediately altering the mood of the room. You recognized a few of them as troublemakers who had been thrown out before. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach, but you continued your work, hoping they would leave without causing any trouble.

Unfortunately, it was not going to be one of those nights. The arguments started almost immediately, escalating quickly into shouts and threats. One of the men grabbed a patron by the collar, slamming him against the bar and causing his drink to spill everywhere. A furious brawl erupted, with fists flying and chairs being overturned. Glasses shattered as they were knocked off tables, and the sound of breaking wood filled the air as a table was flipped over.

You moved behind the bar, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to stay out of the fray. The scene was a blur of violent motion: a man was thrown to the ground, another's face was bloodied by a brutal punch, and someone else wielded a broken bottle like a weapon. The shouts and grunts of pain were deafening, and the air was thick with tension and fear.

Then, you heard the unmistakable crack of a gunshot. The noise cut through the chaos like a knife, silencing the room for a brief, heart-stopping moment. 

A searing pain shot through your side, causing you to gasp. You pressed a hand against the pain, feeling the warmth of blood seep through your fingers. Panic surged through you, but you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry. You couldn't afford to let anyone see you falter, not when the pub was in such disarray. You told yourself it was just a graze, nothing serious. You didn't need to cause a fuss.

The tension in the room was palpable when, suddenly, the door to the side room burst open. Tommy Shelby, flanked by his brothers John and Arthur, strode in with an air of authority that immediately commanded attention. Tommy’s sharp blue eyes scanned the chaos, missing nothing. In his hand, he held a revolver, its presence a chilling promise of violence. John, with a snarl on his lips, grabbed one of the troublemakers and threw him against the wall with a force that made the entire room shake. Arthur, always the most volatile, swung a chair with a roar, smashing it over another man's back. The Peaky Blinders moved with the precision and efficiency of a well-oiled machine, their brutal swiftness clearing out the troublemakers in a matter of moments.

Tommy fired a shot into the ceiling, the deafening crack silencing any remaining resistance. The troublemakers froze, their eyes wide with fear. "Out," Tommy growled, his voice low and deadly. "And if I see any of you in here again, you'll regret it." The men scrambled for the door, tripping over each other in their haste to escape.

The Garrison was left in shambles, but the immediate threat was gone. Tommy turned to survey the room, his gaze hard and calculating. He didn’t notice as you quickly tied a makeshift bandage around your waist, gritting your teeth against the pain, and continued your work.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as you cleaned up the broken glass and righted the overturned furniture. Your vision wavered, and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. You pressed your hand to your side again, feeling the blood still seeping through the fabric of your makeshift bandage. Each movement was agony, but you forced yourself to keep going, telling yourself it would all be okay once your shift was over and you could go home. You swept the shattered remnants of glasses into a dustpan, the sound of the shards tinkling like a cruel reminder of the night's violence.

Eventually, you faltered faster than you could catch yourself, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain your balance. A strong hand caught your arm, steadying you. You looked up to see Tommy Shelby's piercing blue eyes staring at you, concern etched into his usually stoic features.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, the edge of authority unmistakable.

"I-It's nothing, Mr. Shelby," you stammered, trying to muster a reassuring smile but failing. "Just a scratch."

Tommy's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you with a penetrating gaze. Before you could protest, he had pulled your hand away from your side, revealing the blood-soaked bandage. His expression darkened, a storm of anger and worry playing across his features.

"You're bleeding and you didn't think to say anything?" he growled, though there was a softness in his eyes that belied his harsh tone. "Come with me."

He led you to a side room of the Garrison, his grip firm but gentle, ensuring you didn't stumble. The room was small and dimly lit, filled with the scent of whiskey and old wood, a hidden sanctuary from the chaos outside. You winced as he helped you sit down, the pain now impossible to ignore.

Tommy worked quickly, his hands surprisingly deft as he removed your makeshift bandage and examined the wound. His fingers were steady, the touch surprisingly tender for someone known for his ruthlessness. 

"This is more than a scratch," Tommy muttered, his jaw tight with restrained anger. "God damn it, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I didn't want to be a bother."

Tommy's expression softened, his steely exterior cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of concern. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "You're lucky I pay attention."

He set to work with surprising tenderness, carefully cleaning the wound. The sting of the antiseptic made you flinch, but Tommy's steady presence was oddly comforting. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, ensuring it was free of debris before wrapping a proper bandage around your waist. Despite the sharp focus in his eyes, you could see the undercurrent of tension, the worry he tried to mask behind his composed demeanour.

The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the dim light casting a warm glow over Tommy's concentrated face. His hands moved with practised ease, but the care in his touch spoke volumes. It was a side of him rarely seen, hidden beneath layers of calculated ruthlessness and unyielding authority.

"There," he said softly, his voice a low, soothing rumble. He met your gaze with those piercing blue eyes, now softened with concern. "You'll be alright. But next time, you come straight to me. Understood?"

You nodded, managing a weak smile. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby."

He tilted your chin up with a gentle hand, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Call me Tommy," he corrected, his voice tender. "And promise me, no more heroics, eh? Leave that to me."

"I promise, Tommy," you replied, your heart swelling with gratitude and something deeper, something you didn't dare to name. The pain in your side seemed to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. 

Tommy helped you to your feet, his arm steady around your waist, providing support as you swayed slightly. Each step sent a jolt of pain through your body, but with his strong presence beside you, it felt a little more bearable. His grip was firm yet gentle, a silent promise of protection that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

As you walked back into the main room of the Garrison, the remnants of the earlier brawl were still visible. Broken glass glinted on the floor, and overturned chairs lay scattered about. The other Peaky Blinders were busy restoring order, their expressions a mix of annoyance and grim determination. 

Tommy guided you to a quieter corner, easing you into a chair before resting against the table beside you. He reached for a glass of water, handing it to you with a gentleness that seemed almost out of character for the hardened leader of the Peaky Blinders.

"Drink this," he instructed, his voice softer now, the rough edges smoothed out by genuine concern. "It'll help."

You took the glass, your hands trembling slightly as you sipped the cool water. The liquid soothed your parched throat, and you felt a bit of strength return to your limbs. 

"Why didn't you say anything when it happened?" Tommy asked after a moment, genuine curiosity and concern lacing his words. He leaned in slightly, eyes searching yours for an answer, his brow furrowed with worry.

You looked down at your hands, the glass of water clutched between them. "I didn't want to cause more trouble," you admitted quietly. "I thought it was just a graze, and everyone already had so much to deal with."

Tommy's expression softened, his stern demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. He sighed, shaking his head gently. "You're anything but trouble, sweetheart," he told you, his tone firm yet kind.

Your eyes widened at his words, your heart skipping a beat. You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was merely being kind, but all you saw was sincerity. 

"Thank you, Tommy," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage in the moment.

He reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear but from a profound sense of connection. "Don’t scare me like that again, alright?" he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that intimate moment. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of belonging that you hadn't realized you craved. Tommy's touch was tender, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, finding solace in the simple, yet profound gesture.

"Rest here for a bit," he said after a moment, his hand reluctantly pulling away, though his eyes remained fixed on yours. "I'll have someone take you home when you're ready."

He stood up, but not before softly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His presence was a shield, a promise that he would protect you no matter what. 

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Dallas' head snaps back, and he stumbles with the force of an unexpected hand on his shoulder. For the briefest moment, he goes entirely limp, lets his fist hang in the air and doesn't try to scramble back to the boy on the steady retreat in front of him.

Darry's got him. And if he'd thought it through for even a second longer that would have scared the shit out of him. But then the fingers are tearin' into his jacket and forcin' him backward and he finally whips his head around and realizes the reality: two very pissed cops have got him.

And he immediately starts fightin' again. He writhes in their grip and the kid he'd been whalin' on is suddenly skitterin' back with renewed fear. Dallas bares his teeth once and figures he's made his point.

The next ten minutes are a blur.

His heart is poundin' in his ears and he can feel his pulse as it rattles under the cuffs the cops slapped on him the second they could get his wrists within a foot of each other and his head is achin' and he realizes for the first time he tastes blood but he can't focus on anythin' because all he can think is Fuck, Darry is never gonna forgive me for this.

He says it all the time. When he rolls in an hour late and thinks Darry's gonna kick my ass. Or when he lets Pony have just a little too much of his beer and the kid's gigglin' fit to wake the dead when Dallas 'n him sneak back in. Or when he hauls off and picks stupid fuckin' fights for no reason.

But this time he means it.

He groans and drops his head to his hands in the little holdin' cell they have him waitin' in until they process him. Last night's argument flashes vaguely in stills through his mind. He wasn't comfortable with people... carin'. He just didn't know what to do with it.

You can't tell me what to do, Darrel. Dallas flew up from the kitchen table and paced wildly away from Darry. Pony watched him with wary eyes. Soda bit his lip and looked at Dallas like he was tryin' to tell him a hundred things Dally didn't know how to understand.

Yes, I can. I won't have you actin' a fool and gettin' yourself hurt. Darry frowned and he's got these lines in his forehead Two jokes he never had before Dallas moved in. Dallas can't stand to see them.

You're not my brother. And you're not my dad. I ain't never had no one tellin' me what to do in my whole life and I'm not about to let you start. He'd slammed the screen door and gone straight to Tim's, started a fight, wound up at Buck's 'n drank til he vomited, woke up this mornin', and started another.

Darry was goin' to throw him to the fuckin' curb and never talk to him again. And Dallas deserved it. He wasn't one of the Curtis boys. No matter how hard he wanted to be.

"Name?" A cop had reappeared in his cell and he kicked himself for missin' it.

"Curtis." Dallas opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. "Fuck. No, sorry." Since when the fuck did he apologize to cops! "It's Winston. Dallas Winston."

The man just stared at him, Curtis already written across the top of the paper in big, bold letters. "Are you sober, kid?"

"Yes, I'm fuckin' sober! My name's not Curtis. How the fuck do you not know me?" To his horror, he feels hot tears in the back of his throat. He's just some no-good juvenile delinquent every bastard officer in this town knows by name except this one apparently because all he is is trouble. And Darry hated him.

"Sure, kid." The man shuffles his papers together. "Officer Matthews has already called your- big brother is it? He's on his way."

"He's not my brother!" And now he's actually cryin' which is bullshit! Who cares! Who cares that Darry is gonna look at him just like his father did. Like he was a burden he'd do anythin' to get rid of. Like the worst thing Dallas ever did was simply show up in his life one day. Dallas is used to this. He's not someone who stays. He was meant to be left. He's a violent dog. He only knows how to bite.

"Dallas?" Darry's voice makes him jump. He doesn't pull his hands away from where they're pressed so hard into his eyes that he sees stars. He can't bear to look up and see what he already knows he will—not hatred, but cold, cold indifference.

"Out." Darry isn't talkin' to him, Dallas can tell he's turned around by the way his voice bounces back to him off the cement walls. He flinches anyway. "Please." He adds like an afterthought and Dallas hears the door open and close.

"I'm goin' to touch you, ok?" Dallas doesn't say anythin', just makes a low noise in the back of his throat. He feels Darry gently tip his head back, eyes still squeezed shut. He feels him softly check the area on his jaw he knows will bruise tomorrow and run experimental fingers along his ribs for breaks. Dally hisses once and Darry immediately pulls back.

"Oh, Dallas." And suddenly Dallas is fuckin' cryin' again. Darry sounds so tired and worn down and old. Did Dallas do that? Did Dallas make him like that? And the sob that catches in his throat makes him choke.

But then he's pressed against Darry's chest and his hands are strong on Dalla's back and in his hair and Dallas doesn't even fight it. Just lets himself be held and doesn't even mind he feels as small as Ponyboy.

"Come on, Dallas Curtis. Let's go home."

[grimdarling69]

Pt 10 Crack Au

"Jon?" His mother questioned in a concerned tone.

The green blob was held inside the reinforced glass for the scientists and other heroes to study. It called to him. A faint buzzing...it said his name...he had to reach it, then everything would be okay...he'd see Damian again. He wouldn't have to worry about the other heroes who traveled into the land of the dead on a suicide mission.

"Jon! What are you doing!" Kon shouted behind him, demanding but worried. He sounded like he was underwater, the voices...the beeping...the cries they were drowned put by the crystal clear words.

Come...he needs you, Jon-El, son of Kal-El

It spoke his name, his full name, not the human version but the kryptonian. It was powerful.

Jon!

His fingers moved on their own, reaching undettered by the glass shattering around him. He pushed past it, reaching out to the power, the voice. Just as his fingertips caressed it his he could feel his brother grabbing him, and for a second the voice went away Kon tried to pull him back but it was too late. Jon turned to look at him, tears on his face as if he were windblown. Kon looked scared. He was scared to...why was he chasing it? The thing that hurt his father... Why was he drawn to it?...why did it call to him?

"Let go! Jon!"

"I'm scared!"

"Just let go!"

"I'm sorry!"

It was too late.

He had already reached the center. The green raced up his arm, crawling, penetrative, it burned...but it felt...

----------------

"How much further?" Spoiler complained. "Despite popular opinion, my answer will not be changing no matter how many times you ask that." Red Robin answered her in return.

"It's been a week! We've been trapped on this stupid boat for a week!" Steph exploded her hands flailing around her as she stretched on the scratchy couch she half laid on in their shared cabin. The boat was larger than it looked, but it only had 8 cabins. More than most boats, of course, but for superheros...

A knock at the door intrrupted them. Tim looked up in slight confusion but yelled out an acknowledgment anyway. Wally poked his head in "WW and Bats called a meeting in the cellars again..." The younger flash looked...in a state of... true exhaustion.

Tim doubted he looked any different. What with only bathing with babywipes and only eating rations. Tim is really starting to hate the taste of granola...

"Twice in a fucking day? Asshole..." Steph grumbled around, choosing to dump herself onto the floor instead of standing up. Tim simply stood up and stretched, stepping over her convulsing body and walking out the door. Wally, Dicks best friend, now that Damian and Dick have both gone missing through a portal Luthor had forced Damian to help him create.

There were still so many holes in the story... Why did Damian call it the 'Fenton Portal'? What did Lex even write to Damian to get him to run away? They'd concluded that Luthor had picked Damian up off the bridge and had somehow found out about the Lazurus Pits and the demon brats' connection to it. But how did Damian even know what to create? Why didn't he come to them? How did luthor even get powers? How did he discover the pits?

"Where are they?" Batman questioned in his usual harsh and gravelly voice like Lex was like any other criminal. Lex Luthor, with Wonder Woman's lasso, tied around his wrist, meta handcuffs cuffed to the metal table behind the one-way glass, Tim could see Lexs left eye twitching.

"Somewhere safe." The-asshole fake philantropist with the seasonal of American Girl Dolls sent to him every month-grited out. The same answer he'd been giving when they asked about his location every single time. It, of course, only made Bruce madder. The man in question raised his fists and slammed on the table, shaking the table and the super-proof glass. If tim wasn't trained by the best, he might have flinched.

The door to his left opened. He didn't spare it a glance, for he was far too focused on Lexs response.

"My little badger was right about you."

He could feel ice tremble down his spine.

"Don't you dare! Talk about my SON like that!"

"You know he pratically begged me to take him away, away from you. When he told me about your identities, I was truly shocked. I had never even imagined Brucie Wayne could be the monsterous Batman."

"Trying to get a rise out of me by lying won't work, Luthor."

"How can I lie when your friend holds the leash of truth?"

Most of Lexs interviews were like that. Bruce barely let the guy out of that room. All lex did was rave about his 'little badger' it made him sick. The man had lost it. He was nothing like the man Kon used to complain about. The mild inconvenience at the best of times. The somewhat decent father back when Superman had his head so far up his ass he shot lasers out of his nose had quite literally lost his marbles. He had also somehow gained kryptonite-like powers? Bruce had been obsessive in testing the kryptonite-blast that had nearly killed Superman. The blast was unlike anything they'd ever seen before. It hit Clark in the chest, but unlike usual blaster powers, it stayed like kryptonite usually does, but when kryptonite is removed and taken away, Clark heals immediately unhindered. This time, even after the kryptonite was removed and he was exposed to the sun lamps, he didn't heal. It took a while, but eventually, he started healing, but he was in an induced medical coma when the team left. Jon and Kon wanted to go with them, but Bruce had banned them, not knowing if any more of the kryptonite powers could be used against them. Kon was easily convinced to stay behind, to stay with his father, only wanting to go because Jon fought tooth and nail with Bruce to go.

Zatanna had been their messenger between Earth and 'the realms' getting water and other things for them and keeping everyone updated. Like on Clark's condition, according to the best doctors earth and space have to offer, he should be waking soon. That's all they can hope for. As well as on Gotham, the girls sans Steph had stayed behind, Batwoman and Bluebird understood their reason for Bruce wanting them to stay behind. Cass... was in no condition to leave Gotham. Let alone be interdimensional traveling. especially to such a foreign place for them.

Cass had broken multiple ribs after being slammed into the metal walls by luthor. Which she could have recovered from quickly enough (read:ignored) but the force and the roll she took had puctured her lung and she had almost lost it...Safe to say Bruce benched her so long it might as well be forever. Like any of them listened to him anyway.

"Make way!" Stephanie pushed past him Duke hot on her heels, Tim sidestepped past their cat and mouse game. "Get back here!" Duke shouted, Steph's earlier prank of placing a small can of glitter paste above his door, rigged to fall on whoever opened it and judging from the purplely glitter paste dappling his hairline he'd just now opened his door for the first time in a while.

"Sorry, Red!" His brother shouted, flying past him. Hopefully, they'd calm down we'll before they reached Diana's cabin. Bruce never really appreciated Steph's way of cheering up people as much as Dick's.

Tim sighed. Hopefully, Bruce had good news. Despite the pranks and small humors... things had been quite depressing as of late. Bruce was highstrung, Diana was ever placating, but even her endless patience seemed to be wearing thin, the Flashs' increasing unexplained anxiety...

Things could be described as...tense. Jason wasn't really on speaking terms as of late. It reminded Tim of some of their first interactions after Jason came back. Jason and him had even been getting along lately. Not getting into huge fights, trying to kill each other, or even threatening it! Not just with Tim, everyone had been better... everyone but damian...Luthor had to get to him somehow...the letter...what did it say?

Until...all the progress with Jason's anger issues and disregard for them just vanished... after they discovered Luthor had taken Damian...

The point is that the family was falling apart. Alfred and Dick had personally held the family together for years, and neither were here now. Alfred was back home with the girls and Dick following Damian through the portal.

Constantine and Zatanna were sure they were here 'The Infinate Realms'. Tim is really starting to think this place is actually infinate.

"Red Robin." Cyborg greeted him at the entrance to Diana's quarters. Probably on the lookout for ghosts. Tim didn't feel like speaking much, so he simply nodded his acknowledgment and opened 'Pandora's box'. Poor choice of words, but it made more sense than anything else he could think of.

----------

"Are you sure you should be here?" Frostbite worried, Dick noted the subtle fidgeting with his claws.

"Of course. I need to make sure they leave." Dick answered voice smoother than he felt. Confidence, his best trait. Yeah right.

It's not that he hasn't missed his family... he very much has but Damian...Damian and little Ellie and Dante needed him more right now.

"Alright your highness, but I will do the talking. Yungblood is quite-well-spirited, but as are all children.."

"What about Pandora? How will she take being turned away?" Pandora was a warrior, an Amazonian, fierce and strong. If she took offense, they'd certainly be in trouble. Especially with Damian, he...wasn't aware of what they were doing anyway. Taking care of the kids was-exhausting-for both of them. Not that Damian wasn't any bad at all. Actually, he seemed quite skilled at it. Knowing what certain cries and tells the children have even as babies was a gift. Though Damian technically had a cheat sheet with being mentally bonded with them anyway. Apparently, ghosts and their ghostlings-particularly neverborns but sometimes adoption-as a safety precaution are linked in the kind like a tele-link but with feelings. If Dante feels sadness or hunger, then Damian can sense it-smell it or even feel it himself it it's that powerful. Likewise with Ellie, of course.

Nevertheless, twins were still exhausting. Tucker had taken the twins for a few hours. Dick is pretty sure he's just cementing himself as the 'best' uncle early on. Besides the point, they were getting one on one time with him in what Dick assumes is his cabin? He's really not sure where Tucker is staying or if he's just portaling back and forth from his castle? Who knows with him. He still hasn't answered him on whether his mom actually ate babies.

The giant glowing green pirate ship emerged from behind the giant floating ecto rocks. He could see a young green haired boy peering over the front of it, waving his sword in the air and shouting loudly.

"Frostbite! ALOHA!" The ghost enthusiasticlly shouted at them.

"Ahoy! It's a 'Ahoy Maties'!" The parroting his shoulder squawked indignantly. He's read Damians file on him, and he can't help but laugh. Interestingly, he can only be seen by children in the living realms.

He could see Pandora peak over as well. They shared a nod of understanding.

The ghost directed the ship to land on the snow where it wouldn't fall off or float away. Frostbite looked like he snucked a lemon, trying to direct the boy-captain. He kind of wonders how they still have that ship with many rocks and snowbanks he hit parking the giant thing.

He shivered all of a sudden feeling very cold. The runes on the old coat he borrowed from one of the yetis must have worn off. He was warned of them fading randomly, but he'd thought he'd have more of a notice before he'd be freezing.

"Are you all right, Princess?" Frostbite questioned, "Fine, just little cold. The runes wore off..." A sharp cold burst of wind raced through him, making his teeth chatter.

"Here.", the yeti took his long blue cape and wrapped him in it before he could protest he argued, "The great one would be very disappointed in me if you got a cold on my watch."

"Thank you, Frostbite." Dick resisted the urge to cuddle further in the large cloth. It reminded him of Bruce's...

"Of course -" the yeti began smiling softly at him. It's takes a special person to look so intimidating and scary but smile so kindly. Not in an unsettling way but like warmth. Like genuine.

"Cheif Frostbite. I'm glad to see you are in good health." Pandora jumped down from the ships' side, not even bothering with the ladder. She landed on her feet and stalked toward. Youngblood floated down, following after her excitedly. He can spot the admiration on his face for the Amazonian.

The window on the hull creaked, and he turned to stare at it. He squinted his eyes, letting the lenses on his mask that he put on for the first time since he came here zoom in on it.

Bruce. Batman

He could see his familiar shadow, and in particular the ears, they poked up out of his vague blob shape.

"I'm afraid the meeting must be canceled, my friends." The yeti bellowed casting his voice so even the ones hiding on board would hear.

"What, why?" The young ghost cried out obviously disappointed. He was never disappointed as a child when Bruce's meeting were canceled. When he was younger, whenever Bruce had meetings, just one would last for hours. Usually only when they were Justice Leauger but still. So whenever they were canceled, he'd just beg Bruce to do something with him cause he'd have hours of free time that he'd just used to work. If you looked up workaholic in the dictionary, both Bruce and Batman would be there.

He turned his attention back to the ghosts, but it was just both of them trying and failing to placate the young ghost. Which was a great way for him to sneak away and onto the ship. He resisted the urge to whistle while doing it. Not that they'd hear because Youngblood had started the crocodile tears. He's pretty sure the boy is faking it and just trying not to laugh, which he's actually doing a very good job at. Even he hadn't realized it was fake until the tears.

"Nightwing." Bruce gravely voice cut through the loud wailing, ever familiar. He sounded relieved, heavy. There were other heroes. The rest of the bats stood together, worry concealed but visible, he couldnt help but notice the empty space. Some of the Titans were there, well Vic and Wally, he couldn't see anybody else. Martian Manhunter, Flash Senior, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, John Constantine?...wow.

"Hey."

"Hey?" Bruce started anger evident on his face, "Is that all you have to say?" He could see concern and regret, and lines on his face seemed deeper. "You've been gone for months.." his father's voice cracked in the way he only ever heard it crack after Jason...

"I know and I'm sorry but-" he glanced outside the window, he could see the guards seated at the outpost running out of their post inland in the direction they came from...shit he'd wanted to atleast explain himself.

"You have to leave." His voice sounded firmer than he meant it, but he had to get them to leave.

"What are you talking about?" Tim questioned he and his other siblings had come to stand in front of Bruce. Bruce seemed deflated. He tried not to make it too obvious he was planning on jumping out the window.

"Where's Damian?" He tried not to freeze.

"He's fine." Dick said instead, "Both of you have been missing for months, Dick." Duke argued.

"Where is he?" Bruce repeated, pushing past the others.

"Rob?" Wally, his best friend since he was a kid. Who hadn't known his name for years or has no clue that he's been crushing on him for years and years too afraid of rejection and losing their friendship to ever even think of telling him.

"Nightwing. I urge you to listen to your family." Diana insisted, the other league memeber looked too unsure to say much. Only coming for numbers and strength, not for emotional issues.

"Rob, come on. Let us help you?" Wally attempted to grab his arm, but he reared back in time.

"Please."

He shook his head reached for the window and diving out.

"Dick!" He could hear wally and the others scream and rush towards the door.

"FROSTBITE!" dick yelled while he was known for falling from several tall heights and surviving, that was on concrete, not ice and snow. He'd probably slip and break an ankle, especially because he wasn't wearing the right boots for it. The yetis tried to get him to borrow theirs, but you can probably see why it didn't really work.

Frostbite took one glance at his precarious situation and dove to catch him. He had some time he really should have thought that through more...

"Thanks.." he whispered to giant. He suddenly didn't feel so well. The yeti looked at him in concern and adjusted his weight more.

"Release him." Bruce glided onto the ice, his cape rusting and settling behind him. the other flyers landing, but the ones who couldn't watch from the ships railing, back up.

"No, he is mine. You are not welcome here. Leave."

"Not without my sons." His dumbass father demanded probably sending signals to the other heroes to prepare for a fight. He tried to move his head to see them, but Frostbite tightened his grip, clearly worried about fighting 'the great one's' family.

"You will not have them. Leave, or we will remove you with force." Frostbite growled at them, clearly getting frustrated with them. Which is actually a feat he usually wad the definition of patience and virtue but to be annoyed frustrated? Something was happening, and Dick didn't like it one bit.

He'd investigate it as soon as he takes a nap. Just one.

------------

After seeing the ice giant capture Dick they'd rushed down, but the giant refused to let him go and insisted on them leaving.

Bruce was about to give the signal to attack when his feet were captured by glowing green vines...

"Hi Batman. Funny seeing you here." Superboy, jon, joked. His eyes were glowing more purple than he'd ever seen them before. His suit was ripped, and the colors had shifted into a mix of black and dark purple. Ripps up and down the suit, his cape flared behind him with holes burnt into it. And ash sticking to him.

"Superboy." He acknowledged his quick assessment, looking around was he wasn't the only one captured but the only one without a vine stopping from talking. Which meant he needed something from him.

"It's Evergreen now, actually." The boy looked bored more interesting in the dirt underneath hai nails than him. Or at left, he was trying to make Bruce think he was. But nothing gets past Batman.

"I suppose you're the 'poisonous thorns,' aren't you?" The boy smirked eyes narrowing. He dropped his hand and waling up to him, getting closer.

"I suppose you would know. What with Poison Ivy." The boy seemed to laugh at his own jokes.

"Take our mutual friend inside, please, Frostbite." He shouted behind his shoulder. The yeti turned around and walked away with his son still in his arms. They wouldn't get away with this.

The boy leered at him, taking a few steps back and studying the other heroes. He put his finger into his pocket and drew out a beautiful whistle-like miniature flute with strange symbols and runes across it. It looked like it was made out of bone.

He blew into his inciting no sound at all. It was quiet to quiet. Dog whistle. Or something bigger.

"Goodbye."

[rinhaler]

May I humbly ask for Satoru Gojo stepcest with noncon dacryphilia and breeding kink? No pressure it's just something that crossed my mind

of COURSE you may sweetheart! Thank you for the request, sorry it's a little short but I hope it's okay :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, noncon, fem!reader, stepcest, step bro!gojo, vaginal sex, he pushes fingers in once and then pulls 'em out, dacryphilia, creampie, breeding kink, hair pulling.

words: 0.9k

“I knew you had a thing for Suguru… how embarrassing.” your step-brother teases you as he enters your room. You scoff, hanging up on your friend and tossing your phone down on your dressing table. “What? Something I said?” he chuckles.

“I can’t stand you, leave me alone.”

“Awe, don’t be like that, let me help. He is my best friend after all. No one knows him better than I do.” he reminds you.

The offer is intriguing and almost too good to refuse. He smirks as he watches your thought process through your facial expressions. You catch him, shaking your head and turning your nose up at his offer. You turn to look in yourself mirror, touching up your makeup.

“You got me. I can’t help, he’d never be interested in you.”

“Why would you say that?” you look at him again, pouting. “I’m minding my own business in here. You just came in and tried to ruin my day.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” he responds. “I don’t want you to fuck him.”

“Hah, why? Because you want to fuck me?”

“That’s right.” he nods, coming further into your room and shutting the door behind himself.

“Well that will never happen!” you slam your blush palette down on the table. You bend to pick up your purse, and you catch the way his head tilts in your mirror to check out your ass. “Satoru. Never gonna happen.”

He rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you. You’re too busy rummaging through your handbag to notice until he’s behind you. Before you can yell at him, his hand covers your mouth. You had no idea he was so strong, unable to fight him as he pulls you over to your bed. He collapses on top of you and shoves your face into the mattress.

“Sweetheart… you don’t have a choice.”

Your kicking does little to dissuade him, and neither does your muffled speech as you try and think of anything to say to stop this from happening. Of course, it’s all in vain. He pushes your skirt up to reveal your plump ass and lacy panties. His big hands make light work of ripping the material apart, giving himself easy access to your tight heat.

His fingers weave through your hair, pulling your head up away from the patch below that you had warmed with your heavy breathing.

“You cryin’?” he smirks. You hate that he can see what he’s reduced you to. You’re scared and tense and all too aware of what he’s about to do. He pulls out his cock with ease, fisting it a few times before lining it up with your tight hole. “If you tell me you want this, I’ll poke you.” he chuckles, the unmistakable laughter signifying that he’s going to get what he wants no matter what you say. It’s so annoying, normally. But right now, it’s harrowing.

“You—”

“Yeah, princess. I’ll poke you.” he moves his fingers to prod at your entrance, sliding two of them inside and coating them in your slick. “Juuuust like that. And it won’t hurt as much when you take my cock, it’s big, y’know.”

You ignore him, opting to put your face back into the mattress to stifle yourself for what’s to come. He shrugs, his offer and kindness isn’t going to be repeated.

“Suit yourself… guess I’ll have to be a little rough.”

He pushes his tip against your entrance, hissing as your hole swallows him beautifully. It’s almost like you want this. He pushes in further… further… further. Until your sopping cunt meets the base of his cock. Your slick coats his white, trimmed pubes and they look like diamond dust.

You cry out as he moves his hips, tears streaming down your face without any sign of stopping. He smirks, sadistically, understanding that you regret not taking him up on his generous offer.

“You can be as loud as you want, little sister. No one is home… so scream for me.”

As much as you want to, you fight it. You keep your screams to yourself, but the same can’t be said for your tears. He pulls your hair again, almost ripping it from the roots as he pulls your face close to his own. His head tilts forward so he can lick the salty tears pouring down your cheeks.

“Fuck, gets me goin’ when pretty things like you cry around my cock.” he tells you, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. “You know what else I like? Cumming inside. ‘nd I’m real close.”

“You can’t! Pull out! Please Sato—”

“Oh no. Does my poor little sister use condoms? You aren’t on the pill? Well, guess I’ll just have to knock you up. Suguru really won’t want’cha then, you��ll be aaaall mine.”

Your fingers grasp as the duvet material beneath you as you try to ground yourself, you’re close, but you’re hoping he’ll cum first. You leave your body in the final moments of this encounter, picturing which drug store is closest and which one opens earliest so you can get the morning after pill as soon as possible. All the while Gojo is fantasising how cute you’d look stuffed full with his baby.

He grunts as his balls tighten and empty inside of you.

“I should pull out… but I don’t wanna waste a drop.” both of his palms slam down on your ass, and he laughs at the way you jolt forward. “Not that is matters.”

“What… do you mean?”

“Well, sweetheart, you didn’t think that was it… did you?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[jensengirl83]

Wounding Words

Dean x reader

Warnings- ANGST, some fluff

Word Count-2713

Summary- Y/N gets hurt on a hunt. Dean gets angry that he almost lost her, and takes his anger out on her and pushes her away. Will he come to his senses before it's too late?

A/N- This has been on my Patreon for a few weeks. So, it's time to bring it to y'all. This is just one of a few stories on my Patreon right now. You can join my Patreon here

Y/N watched as Dean paced around the war room. It had been a rough hunt, and he was seething. She had seen him mad before, but this was different. He seemed like he wanted to burn the whole world down with his anger, and that was a little scary. Especially, since his anger seemed to be directed towards her as well. 

She and Dean had been a couple for almost a year. It had taken them a long time to get to where they were. Y/N with her insecurities, and Dean with his self-loathing, had kept them from giving in to their feelings for years. She didn’t think he would want her with her love handles and thicker thighs, and he was afraid that if he gave in to his feelings, something bad would happen to her. And Y/N was almost positive that he was so angry because he and Sam nearly lost her on their hunt. 

They had been hunting a vamp's nest. They had gotten down to the last few when Y/N saw one sneaking up behind Dean. After beheading the one in front of her, she ran to try and behead the one behind Dean before it could reach him. It was all working out just fine, until she stepped on a creaky floorboard, alerting the vamp that she was on the move. Before anyone could react, it was on her, teeth in her throat. Sam had made it her and threw it back for Dean to decapitate. But, not before the damage was done. As she lay bleeding out on the floor, Dean holding his hand to her neck, she could feel her body giving out. She was saying her goodbyes to Dean, but luckily, Sam had the wits about him to pray to Cas, who showed up just in time to heal her. Dean hadn’t acted right since, which led them to where they were now. Which was him pacing in front of her, the rage rolling off of him, as Sam tried to talk to him. 

“Dean,” Sam tried to speak, but his brother cut him off as soon as his name left his mouth. 

“No, Sam. Don’t try to tell me that it’s fine now. Everything is so damn far from fine,” he roared, slamming his fist down on the war room table, making Y/N and Sam flinch. 

“Dude, she’s alive. Cas healed her. It could’ve been so much worse. Be thankful that we didn’t lose her.”

“Dean,” Y/N spoke softly as she approached him, “I’m okay. I know you were scared. I was too, but I’m here. Let’s just move on from today, okay?” 

“Move on? You want me to just ignore that you were stupid and almost got yourself killed,” he yelled, flinging her hand from his arm as she touched him. 

“Dean!,” Sam chastised his brother. He knew he was scared and going to say things he didn’t mean, and he wanted to prevent this from getting any worse. 

“It’s the truth,” he growled, deflecting Y/N’s touch once again. But he was looking at his brother and didn’t see the pure agony she was in hearing his words, “She was reckless and almost died! You just want to act like it never happened?”

“Dean, please, I don’t want to fight with you,” she muttered meekly, barely holding in the tidal wave of tears that wanted to escape. 

“Well, you should’ve thought about that, huh?” he said sarcastically, driving the hurt deeper into her heart. 

“I’m sorry. I saw the vamp coming after you, and I couldn’t just stand there and watch it kill you!” 

“Oh, so you didn’t want to watch me die, but I had to stand there and watch you bleed out? The hypocrisy with you is astounding. Just leave me alone,” he huffed.

“Please,” she tried, pleading with him one more time, wrapping her arms around his middle, “Let me fix it. I don’t want this to linger between us.” 

“You can’t fix it! I watched you bleeding to death in my arms! If Cas hadn’t shown up, I’d be burning your corpse right about now! And you think a hug is going to fix it?” He screamed, throwing her arms away from him, “That’s another thing. I don’t always need you to try and fix everything. I’m not a damn child! You know what, I can’t do this. I’m going out. Don’t wait up.” 

Y/N stood there heartbroken as she watched him stomp up the stairs and out the door. In all the years she’d known him, he’d never talked to her that way. Her body was frozen as Sam ran after his brother, the slamming of the bunker door brought her out of her stupor. Against her will, the tears began to flow down her face, her heart shattering in her chest. She ran for her room, grabbing her duffle and throwing her things in it haphazardly. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t be there to see the disdain on Dean’s face when he came back. What she didn’t know, was Dean had never made it to the impala. Sam had reached him before he could get away. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? I know it was terrifying thinking that she was going to die, but don’t you think you should be hugging her a little tighter than usual instead of pushing her away?” Sam exclaimed as he grabbed Dean’s arm, spinning him around to look at him. 

“Look, I don’t need a lecture from you. Pushing her away is what I have to do!” 

“What are you talking about? You love that girl, and you can deny it all you want, but I can see it, Dean. So, explain to me why you’re trying to shove her out the door?” Sam asked, thoroughly confused by his brother’s actions. 

“Because! Loving her is only going to get her killed! Tonight proved that. She almost died trying to save my sorry ass. I’d rather her be gone than watching her burn on a pyre one day. I can’t do it,” Dean shouted, his voice breaking with the emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

“You really are a dumbass. Y/N did what any other hunter would’ve done in that situation. You need to get your ass back in there and apologize before you lose one of the few good things you have.” 

“I can't, Sammy. No matter how I feel about her, I’m poison. I break everything I touch, and despite how much I love her, I refuse to be the reason she gets killed. She deserves so much more than me, or what little I can give her. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way about me, anyway. So, I need to end it now, before it’s too late for her to get out and find someone she deserves.” 

“You know that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that you love a woman out loud? And you’re going to let that slip away all because you don’t think you’re good enough? You’re the stupid one, dude. Y/N loves you too, you idiot! Everyone can see it but you, apparently. You were too busy throwing your little hissy fit in there to notice how you ripped her heart out and stomped on it. She was broken when you turned around and walked away. Someone doesn’t get that look on their face unless someone they love hurts them. And, man, you hurt her bad. But, if you want to walk away from that, go ahead, but you’ll live to regret it. You know what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.” 

Sam turned and walked away, leaving Dean there in a stupor. He hadn’t thought about watching her expressions as he went on his tirade. He was scared and trying to push her away. His only train of thought was getting her to leave so she could find someone better. As he stood there, trying to think of what to do, what Sam said kept playing on a loop in his head. 

“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”

As he stood there with that repeating in his head, he had to face the truth. Could he really watch her leave? Could he live the rest of his life without her, not knowing where she was or who she was with? That’s when he realized he didn’t really want to lose her, he’d let his fear overrule his heart, and he knew then he needed to try and fix it. His legs were moving before he knew what had happened, leading him straight to her door. He could hear her crying as he approached and it broke his heart. He did this to her. He made her cry, breaking her heart with his cruel words, and he hated himself for it. He knocked on her door before his self-hatred and guilt made him walk away. 

“I don’t want to talk right now, Sam,” her voice carried through the door, making him feel even more guilty. She sounded so broken and dejected, and it was all his fault. 

“It’s me,” he spoke softly, trying to let his voice convey how sorry he felt, as he waited for her reply, but there was nothing. He knocked again. Silence. 

“Sweetheart, I just want to talk.” 

“I think you said enough, don’t you?” she answered, trying to sound stern, but he knew her well enough to hear the apprehension in her tone. 

“Please,” he almost begged, wanting to fix this. But just more silence. 

He laid his head against her door, her silence speaking volumes. She was done, and it was his fault. He took a deep breath before speaking to her one last time. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was scared. Watching you dying was more than I could take. I wanted to make you leave, so you could find someone you deserved, someone you could be with that didn’t risk your life every day. Honestly, I deserve to lose you. Like I told, Sam, I break everything I touch, and I broke you with my words. And when I said I didn’t need you to fix me, I lied. I need you, sweetheart. I need you like the air I breathe. Y/N, I’m so sorry. I can never take those words back, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but can you please forgive me?” he pleaded, whispering the last three words, “I love you.”

He stood at her door waiting to see if she would open the door, but nothing. Complete silence. He’d done it. He had broken her heart and hurt her beyond repair. With a sigh, he placed his hand on her door, trying to commit her to memory.   

Y/N was on the other side, listening to what he had to say. Her head told her to make him leave, but her heart told her to open the door and let him apologize. She heard a pitiful sound come from the other side of the door, and that made up her mind. She flung the door open to see him standing there, tears falling down his face. 

“D-Did I break us?” he managed to choke out through his sobs. 

“Do you mean it?” she asked, her red-rimmed eyes boring into his. 

“Yes! I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t deserve you, but if you’ll have me, you’re all I could ever want. I let the fear of losing you get to me, and I know I can’t take back what I said, but I’ll try to make it up to you every day for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he rambled through his tears. 

“No, not that. The last thing you said.”

“That I want you to forgive me? Of course, I meant it!” 

“That’s not the last thing you said, Dean.” 

“I’m lost, sweetheart. That’s the last thing I remember saying.” 

“Never mind. You obviously didn’t mean it if you don’t even remember saying it,” she sighed, stepping back to shut the door, when it hit him what she was talking about. He grabbed the door before she closed it on him. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you. I love you so much that it terrifies me. That’s why I lost my mind when you almost died. The thought of losing you made me sick with grief. And I know I tried pushing you away, so me saying that doesn’t make much sense, but after I thought about living the rest of my life without you in it, I realized I can’t. I can’t live not knowing where you are, or if you’re okay. I need you, sweetheart. I need you to be there with that beautiful smile when I walk into the kitchen every morning. I need you to give me hugs like you do when I’m having a bad day, and most of all, I need you to fix me when I get so broken that I don’t even know how to begin to fix myself. I love you, Y/N. And I want to spend the rest of my days proving that to you if you can forgive me,” he sniffled, reaching to cup her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs as they streamed down her cheeks. 

“I forgive you,” she whispered, placing her hand on his cheek, him leaning into her touch, “I never wanted to leave you.”

Hearing that she forgave him, made his heart swell. He smiled, leaning in to kiss her. He tried to pour everything he felt into the kiss. How guilty he felt, how sorry he was, and most importantly, how much he loved her. The kiss was soft but passionate. One of those kisses that don’t lead to anything sexual, but still toe-curling. Once they had to part to take a breath, he couldn’t contain his smile. She really forgave him. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he repeated the sentiment, realizing how good it felt to say it to her. 

“I love you, too, Dean. I have for a long time,” she admitted, her declaration making his breath hitch. 

“Really? You love me, too?” he whispered in astonishment. Even though Sam had told him that she loved him, he didn’t truly believe it. He never thought he would be worthy of love from someone as good as her. 

“Don’t be so shocked, babe. Contrary to what you believe, you’re a good man, Dean Winchester, and I’m a lucky woman to get the chance to love you,” she stood on her toes, kissing him softly, “You just have to start believing it yourself.” 

“Did I tell you I love you?” he chuckled, her words meaning more to him than she’d ever understand. 

“I think it’s been said once or twice,” she laughed, him joining her. She loved to hear him laugh. It was music to her ears. 

“Just once or twice?! Well, I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” he beamed, cupping her face once again to kiss her. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing her between every declaration. 

“Dean Winchester, one might think you’re secretly a hopeless romantic,” she cackled, joy filling her to hear him say he loved her. 

“Only for you, sweetheart. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Dean. I know you’ve loved other women,” she sighed, not really liking to think about Cassie and Lisa. 

“I’m not lying. I have loved two other women, but sweetheart, it’s nothing like what I feel for you. I mean it. What I felt for them doesn’t hold a candle to the love I have for you.” 

“I love you,” she said in awe, seeing in his eyes he was serious, “More than I can ever describe.” 

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause if I have my way, you’re stuck with me for a very long time.” 

“That sounds perfect,” she giggled, pulling him down to her for another kiss.

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[papipedroo]

Traitor (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Four of Whiskey Tears

Rated: Angst | Violence | Fluff | Suggestive | Age Gap | Assault | Drugging | Language

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

You found yourself sitting at Maria and Tommy’s kitchen table the next morning. Your shirt pulled up as Maria looked at the bruise forming on your side. You were grateful to them letting you stay in their guest room last night and most certainly for the next couple of days.

“So explain to me again how you got a giant sized bruise on your side.” Maria asked as she assessed the damage that had been done.

Your gaze fluttered to your hands as if I was being asked by my own mom, “I tried to kill Heather.” I mumbled.

Maria looked up from the wound, “You tried to kill Heather.” She repeated, “But why?”

“She threatened Ellie and so I tried to kill her.” You didn’t think it was that bad.

Maria sighed, “Sweetheart. That’s not how we deal with issues here.”

“I’m sorry…” You frowned apologetically, “Not for trying to kill her, but not being civilized about it.”

“Well that’s a start I guess.” Maria placed an ice pack on your bruise, “Thankfully nothing is broken. Did she do this to you?”

“No.” Your throat tightened as you answered, “Joel did.”

“He what?” Maria’s eyes widened, “He did this to you?”

“Joel did what?” Tommy stepped in the kitchen. He made his way to the fruit bowl, grabbing an apple.

“He… He pulled me off of her. I don’t think he meant to hurt me. I just…” Your sigh felt like a heaviness settling on your chest, “He didn’t realized his strength when he shoved me.” At least you hoped he didn’t…

“I’m going to kill him.” Maria seethed as he hand tightened into a fist.

You raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m sorry you can kill Joel, but I can’t kill Heather? Where is the democracy in that?”

“Oh hush.” Maria wanted to nudge you like she usually did, but held back given your current state, “I just don’t understand why he’s being this way.”

The two of you were both talking that you didn’t see Tommy leave, only when you heard the door slam did the both of you go silent.

“You don’t think he’s going over there do you?” Your voice trailed off as your mind ran through all of the possibilities that could happen between the two brothers.

Maria shook her head, “They’re Millers. A punch, a couple of words, and then they’re good. It’s what they do. Maybe Tommy can knock some sense into his brother.”

“She said something to him… Don’t abandon me.” You muttered as you mulled over the events of last night, “It looked like those words really got to him and I just have this unwarranted feeling that she’s manipulating him. Like she’s tightening her grip around what he cares about most which is saving the people he can save.”

“But why would she manipulate him?” Maria’s brows furrowed, “For what reason?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head before looking at her, “But I refuse to let her tear apart my family. You should have seen her last night Maria. She knew what to say to get under my skin and it worked. Joel took her side.” You looked out the window to see the sun rising slowly, “Again…”

“I’m telling Mikel that you can’t go on patrol today.” Maria muttered as she cleaned up the table.

You gave her a stubborn look, “But it’s my turn to go on patrol, I’m not going to let this keep me from my job. I need to protect this place too.”

“What? You can’t go like this.” Maria countered with a look that only a mother could give.

You gave her a smile as you placed the wrapped ice on the table.

“I’ve traveled the road far worse than this. I can do it, trust me.” You stood up, ignoring the dull ache.

You were grateful that it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were also grateful for the chance to be out of Joel’s sight today.

“See you! Oh and tell Ellie for me that we are having a snowball fight as soon as I get back.” I waved at her goodbye before greeting the chilled morning weather.

It was warmer than yesterday, that was for sure… You thought as you made your way to the stables to meet Mikel.

“I wonder if Ellie is going to wear her jacket today.” You muttered with a motherly tone, “She better be.”

The morning light greeted the home, but it felt anything but comforting. Not with one person of the family missing.

“Miller.” Ellie greeted her dad as she sipped on her orange juice.

It was the orange juice that her mom spent the other day making. It made all the more reason for Ellie to glare at the old man who looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night.

“You callin me Miller now?” Joel huffed as he grabbed himself a coffee mug.

“Yep. Because until my mom comes back, you Miller are nothing, but a stranger to me.” Ellie huffed.

Joel gave her his famous unimpressed look before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He tried to think of the best way to explain what happened last night. How he reached the top of the stairs and found his firefly trying to kill someone in their home. How he just didn’t want anyone else to die. How he couldn’t understand why she hated Heather so much… Before he could say anything to Ellie, there was a banging at his door.

“Joel!” His brother’s voice carried through the wooden door, “You better get your ass out here right now before I kick this door in!”

“Jesus.” Joel shook and set his coffee down.

Of course he couldn’t have a quiet morning to think about how he would apologize to his firefly and talk about what happened.

His boots thudded against the floor as he made his way to the front door. Another bang from Tommy made his jaw clench.

“What is so important—” He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Tommy was swinging at him. Joel’s eyes widened as he leaned out of the way and grabbed onto his brother’s wrist.

“Jesus Tommy, what the fuck?” Joel grumbled in disbelief.

“You’re an idiot Joel.” Tommy huffed as he yanked his arm to free his wrist, but to no avail.

“I conquer.” Ellie spoke from the kitchen entrance, her orange juice in hand. M

Joel rolled his eyes as he let go of Tommy’s wrist before he turned his attention towards Ellie. He nodded his head towards the direction of the stairs, “Go get ready.”

She groaned, but listened to him nonetheless as she clambered up the stairs.

“You hurt her.” Tommy stated, his tone was more even after his short burst of anger.

Joel gave him a look that soon turned into defeat as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

“I know I shouldn’t have kicked her out, but they were going to kill each other Tom. I wasn’t exactly thinkin clearly at that moment.” Joel explained.

“No.” Tommy shook his head as he shoved his brother’s shoulder, “You. Hurt. Her.”

“What do you mean?” Joel pressed.

Tommy continued as the weight of his words settled in to Joel’s heart, “I walked down the stairs this morning to find my wife tending to your girl with a massive bruise on her side.”

Now it was Joel’s turn to look guilty as he finally realized what he had done. Accident or not he hurt her… Joel looked at Tommy with worry, “A bruise?”

“She said you shoved her.” Tommy elaborated.

His words held a darker tone, one that Joel rarely saw in his brother except for the time back in the day when Tommy would call wasted from a jail cell. This was different though because it wasn’t Tommy bashing someone’s head against a bar… No… This was Joel’s fault and Joel would get eaten by a clicker before he would deny that.

The pieces came back together quickly. Joel vaguely remembered last night, but he knew that he pulled her off of Heather to try to break up their fight. He just didn’t realize how much strength he had used.

“Shit.” Joel seethed.

“Yeah.” Tommy agreed, “Just you wait until you see Maria. She’s pissed at you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her Tommy. I would never… I didn’t mean to.” Joel ran a hand through his hair again, this time with anxiety and guilt rushing through him, “Is she okay?”

“It’s a big bruise.” Tommy’s gaze softened at his brother’s distraught state, “But there’s nothing broken. She’ll be fine in a few days.”

Joel nodded before immediately reaching for his winter jacket and shrugged it on, “I need to talk to her.”

“Can’t.” Tommy stated simply.

Joel turned to his brother with furrowed brows, “What do ya mean I can’t?” He muttered.

“It’s her route today and knowing that girl she convinced Maria that she could go.” Tommy looked up at the where the sun was, “You can try, but I’m not sure they’ll be there.” Tommy explained, his arms crossed as he watched the way his brother’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I’ll take my chances.” Joel grabbed his coat and rushed out the door.

“If she ain’t there then can grovel to her when she gets back.” Tommy proposed, “Hopefully then she’ll be less likely to stab you.” Tommy joked as he turned and walked down the steps.

Joel carried on walking when he heard his brother call out to him.

“Word of advice brother. Get your shit together and kick Heather out before you loose your firefly for good. There’s no use in protecting someone else when you end up loosing someone you care more about.”

“Where is he going?” Heather made her way out of the door.

“To get his girl back.” Tommy looked to Heather, “Look I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on, but I heard enough to know that you should stay out of their business.”

“He is my business.” She said defiantly.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, “No. He’s her business. They’ve been together a lot longer than you’ve been stayin here.”

“Tell me.” She looked Tommy in the eyes, her voice still as sweet as ever, but her gaze held something different, “Right now. If he were to choose between her and me. Who would it be?”

“I suggest taking that offer Tris gave you and move out…” Tommy said all that she needed to hear, “If you’re as nice as you seem then you can provide this act of kindness.”

“Today preferably.” Ellie muttered as she pushed passed Heather and walked towards Tommy.

“Yeah.” Heather muttered before she walked back inside and slammed the door shut.

“I am not spending the day with her.” Ellie began to walk, “Come on, I’m hungry and if you’re here then I know that Maria is the one making breakfast.”

Tommy chuckled before following after the girl.

You were trudging through the snow, seeing the barn on a few steps from you. Mikel stood by two saddled horses, his dirty blonde hair was covered by a tan cowboy hat, weathered by age and sun.

“Morning.” Mikel waved at you, his accent thick.

You remember asking him the first time you both went out on patrol together. He told you his parents were from Romania before they settled here in America.

“You look rough. You doing okay?” Mikel watched how my stride was slower than normal.

“Yeah. Everything’s good.” I nodded my head not wanting to get into your private business with Mikel. He was a friend of course, but you like sharing your problems with anyone outside of your family. Thankfully he didn’t push the topic.

“You found a new hat.” I commented as I reached for one of the horses’s reins, “Hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“John gave this to me. Pretty cool don’t you think?” He tipped his hat before getting on his horse, “And no. Not long. I just came out when you showed up.” Mikel handed you a rifle.

“Thanks.” You said and went to check the barrel to make sure it was loaded.

“You don’t have to. John said he loaded it.” Mikel said.

You smiled at him, “Sorry, it’s a force of habit from Joel. I can’t help it.” You looked back down again to check the gun until you heard his voice.

Speak his name and he shall appear.

“Firefly.” He called out to you.

It made you look up, forgetting about the gun as Joel engulfed you in his strong arms.

“Joel—”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promised I would never hurt you and I did last night.” Joel curled his fingers into your hair as he breathed in your scent, “Don’t go today sweetheart, I’ll go. Just please stay with Ellie.”

You pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, “No.” You stated firmly as you carefully pushed him away even if you were ripping your heart out of your chest, “I need time away from you right now and waiting worriedly for you to come home safe won’t help that.”

“You’re the one who hurt her? I should’ve know it was you.” Mikel stepped up beside you, “Why don’t you leave her alone old man.”

Joel’s fist clench as he clocked in on the young man with a hard glare, “What did you just say?” The word barely got out, sounding more like a muffled growl.

“You heard me.” Mikel pushed Joel’s shoulder, “She deserves better than you. Someone who can protect her.”

Joel didn’t try to fight back, of course he didn’t. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten you by pummeling the young guys face in. No he stood like a force that couldn’t be moved and let Mikel shove him as if he were some tough guy when in reality, Mikel’s shove didn’t even make Joel stumble.

Joel’s glare hardened, “I know she does, but I don’t think you’re the one to decide what she wants.”

“Mikel stop.” You placed a hand on his arm and pulled him back, but he slipped from your grasp heading straight to Joel.

“Oh, but I think she’ll let me with the cute little obedient thing that she is. After all she lets you run all over her does she not?” Mikel whispered so lowly in Joel’s face that you couldn’t hear what he was saying, “It will be easy to get her to behave once she’s mine.”

He took back everything he just said. He could pummel this guys face in. Joel’s fist connected with Mikel’s jaw within the two seconds it took for Mikel to smirk. That smirk however was wiped clean off his face as he fell harshly into the snow.

“Fuck!” Mikel cried out as he clutched his jaw from the seething pain.

“Joel!” You gasped at the sight, unsure of whether to be angry or appalled. You decided that both reactions would do.

“I’m sorry.” Joel apologized to you and only you for having to see that. He didn’t apologize to Mikel who clutched his jaw in pain. He hoped that he would feel that punch for weeks, maybe even have a fracture in his jaw… But Joel could only hope.

“I can’t believe you right now!” You cried out absolutely frustrated over the entire morning. Joel’s eyes widened as you stepped towards him and shoved him back. He couldn’t be angry with you though. You didn’t know what Mikel said. He just let you try to push him, “You’re the one who did all of this. You have no right to be angry!” You yelled at him before turning around.

You reached down to help Mikel up, “Are you good to go on patrol?” You asked him as you looked at the bruise already forming on his jaw. Mikel muttered a yes, a glare directed towards Joel.

“Go get on your horse and we’ll head out.” You told Mikel who walked over to his horse without complaint, being sure to hide the smirk growing on his face.

“Don’t go.” Joel’s focus was solely on you, his hand reaching out as if he wanted to take your hand, but held back, “He—”

“I don’t care what he said or what you just did Joel. Go home.” You glared at him.

“I don’t like him around you.” He pressed, his glare zoning in on Mikel.

“Well tough luck Joel. You don’t get to go around being jealous over the fact that Mikel’s my friend after all the shit you’ve done to me with Heather.” I spat out her name like it was venom, “Go home Joel. I don’t want to see you for a while.”

His face fell, “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know what I mean right now.” Your gaze flickered to the ground, “Please.”

Joel sighed, his shoulders tense and angry at himself for being unable to convince you to stay, “Fine.” He agreed gruffly, “As long as I know you’re coming back tonight.”

“Why should I come back?” You muttered.

“For Ellie.” He knew it was a low blow, but he didn’t want you to leave them.

“You’ve pushed me away for months Joel. What do you want me to do?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the anxiousness that you felt.

“I know.” Joel nodded numbly, “I just… Fuck.” He sighed, “I don’t want anyone else dying on my hands.”

“People die Joel.” You explained as you stepped back, “It’s choosing who you love more. Her or me. And to be honest… I don’t think I’ll like the answer you give me.” You turned away from him and mounted your horse.

“You.” He said when the only thing left of you was your horses hoof prints in the snow, “Always.”

It was an awkward first thirty minute ride for you and Mikel. The two of you kept to yourselves and welcomed the timid silence.

“Is he always like that?” Mikel muttered.

“Not always… It’s been…” You sighed as you adjusted the gun on your shoulder, “Is your jaw okay? He’s got a pretty strong right hook. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “I’m tougher than I look. What do you even see in someone as broken as him?” He wondered as he looked at you.

That question caught you off guard and it took you a moment to answer, but you knew the truth. It lied deeply in your bones, an echo of your heart.

“Everything.” You looked up to the sky, “The good, the bad, the broken, I see everything…”

“I could treat you better you know.” Mikel fixed his hat, “If you gave me a chance. I think we would be good together.”

You breathed out a laugh, “Oh really now?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He dipped his head towards you and put on his best Texan accent, “You bet darlin.”

The two of you broke into laughter.

“We’ve gotten along well for months have we not? If you give me a chance I can show you how you should be loved.” He continued, a hopeful look in his blue eyes.

“Thanks.” Your tone was a lot more calm than from earlier, “But I have my Joel waiting for me back home even if we are fighting.” You gave him a soft smile, “I’m glad that we are beginning to become friends though. I hope we can keep this friendship.”

“Me too…” He replied and you felt that was enough.

Maybe if you paid closer attention you would see something was off. The shadows in the trees or the hand tightening around a rifle.

“Let’s head out a bit further today.” Mikel suggested and you nodded your head.

“Alright.” You answered.

You should have paid more attention.

Joel entered the house with a heavy sigh and a deep ache in his chest. That did not go as he planned… He fucked up. He really fucked up and now he wasn’t sure if you would come back. It was like you were slipping through his fingers and he could do nothing to hold onto you.

“What did you do?” Ellie spoke up.

Surprised at the voice, Joel turned around to face Ellie who sat on the staircase behind him. Her boots were still untied, but it looked like she had been sitting there for a while.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Joel asked.

“Since I heard you groveling up the steps.” Ellie crossed her arms, “What did you do?”

Joel cringed at her words, “I… I fucked up.” Joel took a few steps towards her.

“I can see that, but how bad?” She pressed, “She is coming home isn’t she? She is right Miller?”

He grabbed onto the staircase railing to help him sit on the step, but it didn’t make crouching down any easier, “I don’t know…”

Ellie snorted, “You really are old.”

“Shut up.” Joel spat as he finally sat down beside her.

“What did you do?” Ellie asked again, “Why are you so worried she isn’t coming home?”

It was quiet for a few moments before Joel finally answered Ellie’s question, “I punched Mikel.”

“No!” Ellie gasped, “You didn’t!”

Joel nodded, “I did.”

Ellie knew that Joel didn’t act without reason, “What did he do?” She asked this time.

“He isn’t good for her.” Joel answered, not wanting to relay the words Mikel had said to him to Ellie. She would go chasing after the two and pummel Mikel to the ground.

Ellie wanted to lighten the mood and so she smirked, “Bet you were jealous.”

Joel glared at her from the corner of his eyes, “Was not.”

She started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It must have been hilarious, “Oh you definitely were!”

Joel only grunted at her in response not wanting to continue this conversation anymore. He wondered if maybe Tommy would have a job for him today… He could sure use the distraction.

Ellie wiped at her tears, “You know I really don’t know what she sees in you. I mean I do, but I don’t.” She explained in the nicest way she possibly could which for Ellie was being very blunt. Something that her and Joel had in common.

Ellie and her honest words have always made Joel irritated, but he knew deep down that she was right. At least about this.

It was a while before Ellie looked towards him again. She saw the sullen look on his face and watched the way his scowl seemed to deepen even more. Carefully, Ellie rested a hand on his shoulder, as delicately as she could as if she was about to startle a bear.

“You saved who you needed to save. Now it’s time to let Heather live her own life and bring mom home.” She said.

Joel sighed deeply, knowing the kid was right, “I don’t know what she sees in me either.” Joel answered her honestly. He couldn’t tell her that she would come home and why should she? He treated her horribly and now it’s hitting him in the chest. Making it tighten as if he couldn’t breathe. It was the same feeling he felt when they first arrived here. When he thought that he couldn’t protect his girls and now… Now he feels like he’s loosing the one woman he’s grown to love, “I’m going to go see Tommy about some work. I’ll be back later.”

He feels like he’s lost her for good and that truly terrifies him…

It’s been more than a couple of hours since you first es headed out on your patrol.

“How long have we been out here?” You asked as you looked up at the darkening sky.

“Not too long though we should probably head back soon…” Mikel’s voice trailed off, “Let’s just head down this bend and we’ll turn around.”

You agreed to his suggestion and the two of you continued down the snowy bend. It was a few more minutes of riding before you saw that Mikel was squinting at something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I don’t know…” Mikel stated and the two of you rode a little closer to see what it was.

You both looked at the abandoned building that was down the hill.

“What is a cabin doing out here?” You asked.

“Don’t know. No one has ever been out this far…” He muttered, “Let’s go check it out.”

Mikel’s words only prompted you to move forward as you both traveled down the snowy hill and towards the small cabin.

It looked to be old, and most likely unused as there was no smoke billowing out the chimney from this chilled weather. The two of you cleared the area first before circling the home. Mikel went around back as you entered the cabin. The opened door provided some light, but not enough to see the inside of the cabin in its entirety. It wasn’t until you pulled back the tattered curtain to the windows that you realized the place fully furnished.

You thought there wouldn’t be much to it, scraped barren from the world that had been pushed upon it, but you were wrong… And you didn’t like that you were.

You looked around carefully, not finding anything else out of the ordinary until you ventured further towards the fireplace. Even though there was no flame or smoke to the coals, they were still hot. An unwelcome chill feel over you as you quickly stood up, much more alert than you were previously.

You remained silent as you crept to the front of the house, gun now raised as you went to find Mikel. You hoped that he was still walking about outside and that whoever was here previously was long gone. You slowly stepped outside, eyes immediately locking onto the figure in front of you. You expected to see raiders, a clicker, hell a bloater would have made more sense then Mikel standing there with his own rifle directed towards you.

You didn’t lower your weapon as you asked him, “What are you doing Mikel?”

“I need you to listen to me. Please.” His request was a near plee, something that you found irking.

“I’m listening.” Your eyes darkened at him.

“I fell for you the first time I saw you all those months ago. You were like a breath of fresh air and rain. I did everything to get near you, even fixing us to go on routes together when Joel left. She said I could have anything I liked if I did what she asked. She promised me this.”

“She? What you mean she?” I muttered as I wracked my brain for an answer that could explain all of this.

“She said I could keep you.” Mikel’s grip tightened around his gun as a crazed look fell over his eyes, “I followed orders. I did everything for this moment and now. Now it’s my turn to have what I want.”

“You led me here.” You realized, “This is your cabin.” You didn’t want to listen any more to his words. The only thing on your mind was getting back to your family. Your eyes narrowed as you squeezed the trigger without hesitation, but you didn’t get the recoil that you were expecting. You tried again… Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Your anxiety picked up when you began to realize this.

“You can shoot all you like. There’s no bullets.” He stated and that was all the answer you need. That’s why he handed you the gun earlier. That’s why he was assuring you it was loaded. You should have checked. You shouldn’t have forgotten about the damn gun. You should have checked. Joel would have…

Joel.

You wished for everything in your soul that he was here with you right now. Fuck. Quickly you threw the gun to the snow and ran as fast as your legs could carry you.

Mikel sighed as he aimed his gun at you, “I was really hoping that you would see it my way.” He fired without hesitation, shooting you in the leg, “I did this all for you. For us.”

You gave a blood curling scream as you fell, staining the cold white snow in the warmth of your blood. You heard more footsteps and the sound of horses from behind you and you knew then that your home was about to be destroyed.

“Everything is prepared for your arrival.” Mikel stated, “Don’t keep Heather waiting.”

“Another successful raid.” One of the guys chuckled out, “She’s too cunning. I knew that was why John kept her around. And that girl? You gonna share?”

“This one is mine.” Mikel answered and you could hear his footsteps head towards you.

“Joel!” You screamed his name even if he couldn’t hear you, “Joel!”

Mikel straddled your waist, digging the bit of his gun into your wounded leg, “You’re still screaming his name even after everything he’s done to you? I am better than him!” He yelled as you cried out in pain, “Why can’t you see that?!”

You turned and watched over half the town population of raiders heading towards Jackson. It left a horrid feeling inside your gut as you could do nothing lie in the snow.

Your only thoughts were of Ellie and Joel.

“I’ll make you see that I’m the one for you.” He whispered in your ear.

Please survive. You must survive.

Silence fell over Joel and Ellie as Heather served them dinner. They were both lost in their own thoughts as they waited for her to come home.

“It’s getting late… Do you think something happened to her?” Ellie asked as she peered out the window the darkening sky.

“I’m not sure dear. Maybe they had to find shelter from the weather picking up?” Heather placated as she served them.

“I’ll go check with Tommy, see if she’s there.” Joel began to stand.

“But your food.” Heather pointed to his untouched plate, “You should at least eat something before you go. Don’t you think?”

“I’ll be back.” Joel reassured, “You two can eat without me.”

“I’m coming with you.” Ellie stated as she pushed her plate aside, ready to join him on his search.

Joel immediately shook his head while he was putting on his coat, “I don’t want you catching a cold out there. I’ll go find her.”

“Promise?” Ellie’s eyes showed her worry as she looked up at Joel.

“Promise.”

“Stay safe then. I’ll look after Ellie until you get back.” Heather nodded towards Joel. He returned the gesture.

“And Heather?” Joel called out.

“Yes?” Her gaze looked hopeful.

“We’ll discuss more about your move with Tris. I think your well acquainted with the lifestyle here to start building your new life on your own.” He said before heading out.

“I hope you like meatloaf.” Heather ground her teeth as she tried to remain calm from Joel’s biting words.

But she would make him see…

Not at all… Ellie thought as she looked at her plate. She cut into the meatloaf as she watch Heather serve herself. It looked off, but she warily took a bite and swallowed the unknown substance.

“Why are aren’t you eating yours?” Ellie asked as she slowly chewed her food.

“Not that hungry I suppose, but that just means more for you.” It was the way Heather’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes that made Ellie feel uneasy.

Slowly she put down her fork, feeling nauseous, “I’m not that hungry either.” She said, but she had already eaten some of the dinner, “I think im going to go lie down.” She tried to stand, but the room spun and she ended up crashing to the ground.

“Sweet dreams dear.” Was the last thing Ellie heard before falling asleep.

She would make him see that they are meant to be together.

Joel checked the barn first before heading to his brother’s house. He quickly noted that two horses were still missing from there stables. That only let Joel’s worst fear come true at realizing she wasn’t over at Tommy and Maria’s house. It made his swift walk into almost a jog as he raced over to Tommy’s.

“What do you mean she hasn’t come back yet?” Tommy asked the moment Joel barged in, letting them know what has happened.

“I don’t know. I was hoping she would be here, but her horse is still missing. I think something has happened to her.” Joel ran a hand through his hair.

“Well round up some folks and head out there on a search.” Maria insisted as she stood up.

“That sounds like a plan. I’ll get—“ Before Tommy could finish his sentence multiple gunshots could be heard through the town.

“What’s that?” Maria’s eyes widened at the loud noise.

“Whatever it is. It doesn’t sound good.” Tommy murmured as he quickly put his boots on.

Joel’s heart was racing as he tried to keep a level head, “Tommy, Ellie—“

Tommy nodded his head, “Go get her and bring her here. Maria you stay and keep an eye out for them okay? I’ll go find out what’s going on.”

“It sounds like a raid.” Maria sounded worried as the gunshots continued, now paired with yells and screams.

“That’s why I need you to stay here, arm yourself, and hide. Wait for Joel to come back with Ellie and I’ll be right behind them okay?” Tommy pressed a tender kiss to Maria’s forehead before he and Joel were out the door, armed and ready for a fight.

“I’ll head with you for a couple blocks and then break off okay?” Tommy whispered to Joel.

Joel grunted with a nod as the two blended in with the night.

It wasn’t long before Joel was silently hurrying up the steps and threw his front door. The house was dark and it seemed oddly quiet as he searched the place for any sign of Ellie. He quietly made his way upstairs and to her room where he was pushing the door open. He expected her to be awake, packing her backpack, but instead she found her unconscious and tied with duck tape on her bed. His footsteps were quick as he rushed over to her, but froze when he heard the clock of a gun.

His piercing eyes flitted over to the corner of the room where the moon shined on Heather’s face. There she stood with a gun pointedly in Ellie’s direction. She knew what she was doing. His life meant nothing to him, but Ellie… Well she was his world.

“You know I really thought you were smarter than this Joel.” Heather tsked with a sigh, “I thought this would go a lot smoother too, but you just couldn’t choose me could you?”

“What did you do to her?” Joel’s gun was facing her with no hesitance to kill if he got the wrong answer.

“Don’t worry, I only drugged little Ellie that’s all.” She tilted her head, “She’ll be fine as long as you are cooperative so why don’t you be a good boy and put down the gun.”

Joel slowly lowered to the floor as he placed his rifle down, “Why are you doing this?” Joel’s voice dropped lower as he quickly assessed the situation.

“Didn’t you hear? This town is in need of a little remodeling and I know just the group to get that done.” She smirked.

“You don’t mean…” Joel’s fist clenched at the feeling of betrayal seeping through him.

“Oh yes. Surprise! You should be happy. All of this couldn’t have happened without you.” Heather smiled.

“I didn’t.” Joel huffed defiantly.

“But you did. You helped me dethrone John. Took him out so I could be on top and it’s quite nice up here, but I don’t want to be alone. You’ve shown me just what love could feel like and I know that we could rule this town together now that your precious firefly is out of the way.”

“What did you do to her?” He growled and Heather rolled her eyes.

“You’ll never see her again, I can promise you that.” She laughed, “And you dug yourself too deep to gain her forgiveness Joel. Something you’re never going to get from her again.” She stepped towards him, “Why don’t we just have a glass of whiskey and forget about her hm?”

“What. Did. You. Do.” His tone was as harsh as the gun fire outside.

“Why do the tiny details matter? She’s gone. You’ve made it perfectly clear when you casted her aside. I saw it in your eyes Joel. You feel something for me!” She urged, “All you need to do is just give us a chance.” Heather pleaded, “You, me, and Ellie would be good together. We will be the perfect family.”

“No.” Joel’s tone held no room for consideration, “You’re not her. You’ll never be her. I don’t know what kind of delusion you have where we end up together, but it will never happen.”

“Oh fuck you.” She glared at him, “Is this really because of her?” Her hands shook with rage as she held the gun.

“She means more to me than you will ever know and if she is dead. I promise you, the infected will be the least of your worries.” He threatened.

“Really now?” She scoffed as she tried to subdue her anger, “Why don’t you worry about the girl you still have left hm? You really want me to be the villain here then fine…”

Her gaze narrowed as her gun clocked, “Dawn is coming your way and it’s about to bleed red.”

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | Extra

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

You have never found the crowd pleasing, no matter how much you've forced yourself to get used to it. Your father was the type of a person who knew how to stir and handle people like they were dolls, he wanted you to be the same. But you preferred to pull the strings in the shadows, despite how much he complimented you for becoming as good as him.

Eating in front of a bunch of soldiers whom you had no use of, was also not within your likings. Their judgemental gazes, their yapping mouths, and their sharp ears to rumors and gossip was not helping you out as well. You couldn't also control them into making them think you were harmless and trustworthy when you already kicked their brother’s balls.

But you couldn't bother Task Force 141  to always be with you, you weren't their only concern in the base, and you did not want to be babysat by a bunch of grown men. What would be the point of a goddamn ankle monitor if you were always within their sight?

You swallowed the last bit of your meal and picked up your tray, getting up from the seat. You kept your head high as you carefully placed the tray over the tower of dirty ones and slipped out of the dining hall.

Where was Price’s office again?

You stood before a hallway, parting to left and right with narrowed eyes. Pointing a finger to your right and then to your left, you sighed and proceeded to the left with a nod.

You hoped he would be in his office and you could have a small talk with him, at least. Or even better, you could continue your talk with him, which got interrupted by Laswell calling.

You had got so much to tell him—so much to offer him more than what you could say to Shepherd. Maybe, it was because you knew him better than you knew the General, or maybe, you were hoping he was a man of his words and your last resort.

You stopped on your tracks as several soldiers blocked your path and as you took a step back, one of them quickly grabbed you. He slammed you against the wall and the rest of them rounded, hiding you from plain sight.

“Uh,” you scanned the soldiers, “hello?”

Ey, come on, you had said you liked it when men choke you with their arms and thighs, manhandling you like a rag doll (preferably on bed, but honestly, you'd take them on the couch, table, stairs, against the wall, the floor the door, no lube, no protection) BUT NOT THESE GUYS!

THEY WEREN'T EVEN HALF AS GOOD LOOKING AS THE 141 NOR KEEGAN!

YOU BET THEIR DICKS WEREN'T EVEN GOOD!

HECK, YOU BET YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE ABLE TO CUM ON THEIR FINGERS UNLIKE HOW KEEGAN COULD MAKE YOU!

FUCK, YOU BET YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE WET WITH THEM UNLIKE HOW JUST SEEING KEEGAN'S ASS WOULD MAKE YOU FOLD AND BEAT YOUR DINGLE DOODLE MAGICAL WAND CUM SHOOTER OUT IF YOU HAD ONE!

DAMN IT! If you punch or beat up one of them, the results wouldn't even be in your favor. It would just lead up to more people—the Task Force specifically—to not put their trust on you.

You sighed, letting all your thoughts simmer down as they began to threaten you, and glanced up the ceiling, reminding yourself to stay frosty.

Would the Task Force agree if you asked them to spar with you? Although, that would mean they'd see your skills. Scratch that.

Oh, you didn't need to actually fight them. You could just let them throw you around.

Yeaaaaah, good shi—

You grunted as a hand wrapped around your throat and you found your fist landing on the man’s face. “Fucking bitch, don't touch me, you small dicked pussy eater, cock sucking whore—” And only then, when their gazes locked onto you that said ‘oh no, we're fucking offended! We’re men who hadn't heard such dirty words coming from a woman cuz we are the ones only allowed to degrade other people!’ that you realized what you had done.

“Oh, uh, sorry—” you coughed as a soldier’s knuckles landed on your stomach, and you bent over, breathing out heavily from the sudden pain, and another one hit, again and again.

You were used to such treatment. You had gone through worse, and such experience was what could make your actions more realistic.

You dropped on your knees, holding your arms over your stomach as you tried to make it seem like you were having a hard time breathing, and frowned, to make it seemed you were in so much pain.

But even with such acting, and the chances of being able to get away from them, and get to Price, you wished someone would help you out.

Perhaps, the Ghosts had spoiled you too much. Perhaps, the Walkers had treated you like a princess to save when in distress. Because even when you could do it, their excuses would be they wanted to do it for you.

God, you missed them—missed the safety you felt with them. The warmth, the feeling of home, and the feeling of being valued as a human. And you'd kill burn everything to feel that again.

You swallowed as they grabbed your hair, pulling harshly. But in a blink, the fingers on your tresses vanished and your eyes landed on the soldier on the ground, then up to the man with a cigar balancing between his fingers, gaze hidden by a hat.

He blew smoke and you grimaced, covering your nose with your hand. “What the fuck are you bloody muppets doing?”

One after another, the soldiers answered his questions, putting all the blame on you. They weren't wrong, though, you had kicked someone's balls and punched a guy. But come on, you kicked someone's balls during training, and you punched someone because they strangled you and that would be called self-defense.

You weren't the one in the wrong here as well.

“You call yourself soldiers when you act like this?” John questioned, his voice dropping low. He let go of his cigar, letting it drop to the floor and stepped on it. When the soldiers tried to retort, he yelled, “I will hear no excuses!”

They flinched, all standing up straight and brought their eyes to the ground, while a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you up.

“You broken?” Price questioned, letting you hold onto his arm as you steadied yourself.

You shook your head. “I'm good, sir.” You stepped away from him.

He made no comment and once again faced the soldier, pointing at them. “I will deal with the lots of you later.” Then, he tapped your shoulder, nodding at you to follow him.

You walked behind him and glanced over your shoulder, shooting your middle fingers at the soldiers, but something blocked your sight.

“Enough of that, you damn muppet.”

“Hey, I'm just expressing my anger!” You exclaimed, yet let him drag you with his hand still over your eyes.

“Can you, in this position you're in now?” He questioned, guiding you to a corner and removed his hand from your face.

You looked up at him. “Literally or . . . ?” You watched him glance at you, and you huffed. “If I weren't trying to prove myself to you, I would have killed them.”

“The way you phrased that isn't exactly making me approve of you.”

You clicked your tongue, and for some moments of silence, he stopped before a door. He pushed it open, he gestured at you to get in first, which you raised a brow and smiled at. “Aren't you a gentleman, Jonathan Price?”

“Don't mistake it as approval,” he scoffed and locked the door behind him.

The space was neat and orderly—not exactly what you expect from such a man, with just enough personal touches to make it feel lived-in—maps pinned to the walls, a coffee mug perched precariously on the edge of the desk. Price motioned for you to sit on the couch.

You flopped down on the couch, then laid down, grunting at the pain you felt on your abdomen. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“I'm saving the soldiers from you,” he remarked and walked around his desk, opening a drawer, but frowned and closed it. Then, he rummaged through a cabinet.

You chuckled and heaved a small sigh. “You know about me even before we meet, don't you?”

“You are not exactly discreet, princess.” He fished out some sort of container that fit in his hand and a bandage and walked over to you.

You blinked rapidly at the nickname, not expecting it to come from his mouth, and shifted as you gazed at what seemed to be an ointment and bandage on his grasp. “I can handle myself, Price, I'm not—”

“You're in no position to argue,” he said, as though barking an order, and dropped to one knee before you. “Lift your shirt.”

You swallowed at his sharp gaze and frowned, jaws tightening as you hesitantly dropped your hands to your belt. You sighed and started unbuckling, a bit shaky yet quick. Your heart hammered against your ribs as he watched you lift your shirt from being tucked in.

Scars welcomed his sight along with the darkened patches on your skin from getting beat, and he took in a sharp breath. “Who did this?”

“Jesus, that's straight out of fiction,” you mumbled under your breath.

He looked up at you. “What?”

“Ah, I mean, well, Shepherd.” You averted your gaze as your face began to warm up out of shame.

“I thought it was from your father,” Price said in a low voice and reached to your hand, guiding it up even more, before he shook off his gloves. He turned the jar of ointment open.

“The Tsar wouldn't hurt me like this.” You ran your tongue over your lips as his calloused fingers began to run over your skin, warm over the cold. You rested your head against the couch and relished on the feeling.

“Why did you betray him, then?”

You closed your eyes. “He thought everything he did was right, and it took me a while to remove the blindfold he had made me wear and listen only to him.” You paused for a moment, and opened your eyes, before asking, “Would you rather have me as your enemy, Price?” You looked down on him, finding him unrolling the bandage.

“Why would I accept an enemy in my Task Force?” he questioned, snaking a hand around your waist, and repeated the action.

“Good question,” you remarked, and straightened up, making him glance up at you. “Why would you want an enemy in your Task Force?”

“Why would you join hands with an enemy?”

You leaned down on him, tilting your head slightly. “Why do you want me, Jonathan Price?”

He lifted his chin and the edge of his hat almost hit your nose as he did, and found your eyes staring at his. He made no movement—no, he froze—something only a few could do to him, caught between the questions in his head and the ticking of the clock that kept the silence from reigning.

His eyes flicked between your eyes, as though trying to find answers or hints for the question you asked, some things he wasn't sure he wanted to find. Then, he lowered his head, bringing his focus back on wrapping you in bandages. “You have all the Intel that I want, your skills are a delight to the eyes. If there's someone who can and will help me, it will be you.”

You hummed, pondering over his words, and tapped his hat. “I’ve seen you with Captain McMillan, when you still have that cute little bonnet of yours.”

His movements came to a half and he looked up to you. “When?”

“I’ve seen you around, well, through the screen, but I first saw you in person at your failed assassination of Imran Zakhaev.” You swore at the back of your head you sounded like a stalker.

“Failed?” He echoed, annoyance and shock clear in his voice. “He's dead—”

“He died, that's true. But not from your hands, Price.” You shook your head.

Once again, he grew quiet, your words spiraling in his lthoughts, before he snapped out of it, and questioned, “Why were you there? I don't think you're already in the military at that time.”

“I was a visitor.” You scooted closer to him, making it easier for him to wrap you in bandages. “My father wanted me to meet Zakhaev and his middle son, Victor, to join hands with him, and thank fuck, you appeared!” You clapped your hands, making him look at you in confusion. 

You grabbed his shoulders. “You don't know how grateful I am to you for beating the shit out of Zakhaev, you goddamn blessing from heaven.” You shook him, hard, but he barely moved. “I would have asked for your hand in marriage had I gotten the chance to talk to you back then! God, I swear you looked so good I wanted to get to you since then, but of course, Father hates you because of what you did, and meeting you before means that we would have met as enemies. I don't want that because that will complicate things and I didn't want my father to be suspicious of me that time yet but Jesus, you and Macmillan made me want to go to your side immediately and . . .” You trailed off, turning your head away in shame, as it dawned on you that you had begun to yap. You cleared your throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, continue,” he demanded, tying up the ends of the bandage in a tight knot. “I want to hear more from your side.” He picked up the jar of ointment and stood up, leaving you to fix your clothes as he put the ointment back in the cabinet.

“More like you want intel from me,” you huffed and stuffed the hem of your shirt back under your pants, before unbuckling the belt. You caught him shoot you a look as he heard your words but said nothing, and so, you lied down the couch. “Well, anyways, so, right, where was I again?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but you snapped your fingers, stopping him. “Right, joining you and Macmillan, sooo—”

Price dragged a chair close to you as you began to tell your tales like you were in your own world. Without hesitation, you unfolded your story to someone who could use your words against yours. Price, somehow, at the back of his head wanted to make you shut up and make you realize that you could stop, have some privacy or at least a bit of secrecy, because it felt illegal that you were rambling everything you knew and what he wanted to know like it was merely gossip.

It made him question himself again as he watched you gestured your hand in the air, slapping his thigh as you thought he wasn't listening or when you found something funny in your story, was this really the woman who had imprisoned a monster? Were you the one they called their princess whom he once couldn't reach?

It seemed somewhat surreal that you were more human than he thought, and whatever had you done to him, that made him want to keep the life in your eyes in contrast to the void he had seen in your pictures.

Gazing at you, it felt like you shouldn't belong by his side. That you were the type of a person that shouldn't be tamed, shouldn't be kept at one place, shouldn't be locked down.

At the same time, you should be kept an eye on, and creepin’ jesus, where was your goddamn filter? A face of an angel, a demon in disguise, a mouth of a sailor, and a humor as dark as coffee. And yet, he found himself relaxing as you became relaxed yourself, tensions getting off his shoulder as though you had begun to lift the burdens with him.

“You good?” You asked, seeing as he appeared to nod off. You propped yourself up.

“Always,” he groaned, his deep voice sounding like a low rumble, and straightened himself from a slump.

“You look tired, Price,” you called out.

“Normal for a Captain.”

“Shall I leave and let you rest?”

He tilted his head, making the shadow of his hat angle to a view that made his looks even better. “You're telling me you won't let me rest unless I tell you to get out?”

“Well, I don't really want to get out there.” You scratched an itch that suddenly appeared on your arm. “I will shut up, just give me a book or a pen and papers.”

He hummed and got up on his feet. “Move over,” he motioned at you, and you scooted to one side of the couch, but frowned when he padded over to his desk, fetching a pen and sheets of paper. He sluggishly walked back to you and flopped down on the furniture, letting his body be hugged by the soft material. He handed you the materials. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Draw,” you simply said, putting down the paper and pen on your lap as you yanked your legs up on the couch.

“Right, I have . . . some of your drawings that you left here,” his voice went low, almost like he didn't want to say it.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, remembering you drew naked men beating the shit out of one another's dicks, saying it was a renaissance drawing to the rest of the 141. “You can throw them away.”

“Don't you want it back?”

You snapped your head in his way, a bit surprised by his question. “Well, I mean, you might have been disturbed by my sketches, and I have no particular use of them, so, uh . . .”

“You can use one of my drawers as your stash,” he offered and swung his leg onto the chair before him. “My sergeants and Ghost have their designated stashes in this room. You can have one as well.”

“I . . .” You pondered over your words, your brows slowly knitting. “I'm not a member of the 141.”

He scoffed and leaned onto the arm of the couch, tapping on his hat to make it tilt and cover his face. “You are one now.”

You stared at his figure, slowly falling to a slumber much needed in his line of work, before bringing your attention back to the blank sheet of paper before you.

With swift hands, you began to sketch a circle as guidelines, trying to visualize and remember Simon Riley's features. The signature skull musk, the dark paint or maybe, just naturally dark circles, and distant eyes as though he sees something no else can. Noting some things about him down, his pale lashes, height, the lower portion of his body, his arms, and perhaps, how he would look on gears during deployment.

As you were finishing up, you could hear light snores coming the the Captain, and scoffed, “Sleeping beside an enemy,” you said underneath your breath, a smile appearing on your lips as you changed sheets.

You ran your hand over the paper and smoothed the wrinkles down. “Perhaps, I made the right choice in going to you.” You began drawing a messy outline of his body. “But I hope it doesn't come with a price.”

I'm very sorry for the late update, everyone! I have been caught up with school (quizzes come in every other day) and, uh, have been trying to take care of this lovely biker guy I have in my basement who I wouldn't let take off his helmet while I rant to him about fucking the 141. Though, I hope you take this extra which I seriously thought wouldn't be this long, as an apology, and hopefully upload the next chapter in a couple of weeks.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord / Art Post

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @cassiecasluciluce, @annoyingstrawberryballoon, @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside, @eustassh

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.01

You stare straight ahead as Aegon’s hips snap against your bare ass; his hands are placed firmly on your back, keeping you in place, bent over the table you often sat at while breaking fast with Helaena. Wine spilled from the jug as his rough thrusts caused the table to shake. Small splatters of the sweet-smelling liquid hit your face, leaving behind a horrid, sticky feeling. Your nipples rub against the smooth wood beneath them, which occasionally causes a spark of pain.

“Fuck!” Aegon takes a fist full of your hair and says, “You're so greedy and desperate to be filled by me that you’re sucking me dry.”

Rolling your eyes at his words, you slip a hand between your legs and begin to rub quickly at your clit, hoping to give yourself an orgasm before your soon to be husband spills his seed inside you for the second time that night. Before you got betrothed, Aegon claimed he was gentle in his touches, but the thrill of taking your maidenhood was far too exciting, and now Aegon treats you the same as the whores he visits on the street of silk.

He grunts before falling forward, putting his full weight on you, making you feel trapped beneath him. Aegon lets out a few raspy breaths before slapping your ass hard enough to leave a red mark, then pulls out of you. “I hope that will keep you satisfied for now.”

Straightening your posture, you fix your skirts and adjust the front of your dress so your breasts are no longer spilling out the front of it. “And what satisfaction was I supposed to have gotten from that? You jumped on me like a wild animal.”

Chuckling, he tucks his cock into his breeches, “the satisfaction of being full of my seed.”

Shaking your head, you bring a cup of wine to your lips, but Aegon snatches it. Since his coronation a few days prior, your brother and future husband has become almost unbearable to be around, and the power he wields has made him even more arrogant. In public, you put on the act of the perfect princess and would gush to the other ladies of court how amazing your son-to-be husband is; King Aegon seconded of his name, but in the secrecy of your chamber, the facade was dropped.

“Seven Hells,” you try to grab the cup back, but he holds his hand up high, smirking as you stand on your toes and struggle to reach for it. “You’ve used me all night; now stop behaving like such a cunt!”

He grips your jaw with his free hand and says, “Careful sister, I am still your king.”

“My apologies. Please stop behaving like such a cunt, my king.”

He raises his brows, taking a gulp of wine, then holds it to your lips. He allows you a small sip, then pulls it away again. “I will have two wives, as did Aegon the conqueror, and both of them will give me heirs. But until we are wed, you’ll need to keep drinking the tea the maester brings.”

“You already have two sons and a daughter; you don’t actually need me for heirs.”

“Hmm, that’s not how the king's hand sees it.” He finishes the cup and slams it onto the table. “Now, I’m going to visit Helaena. Hopefully she’ll be more enthusiastic to see me.”

“And if not?”

He slaps your backside. “I’ll just come right back to you.”

—

“Thank you for keeping me company, brother; I know how busy you are.”

“Nonsense,” Aemond says as he walks beside you. “Although I suspect mother won’t be happy that your gown is ruined.”

Since the sun has risen, you have been searching among the flowers and bushes that grew in the gardens, keeping an eye out for caterpillars to give Helaena. Jars of them were placed upon a table in her quarters, and when they hatch from their cocoons, the twins release them. Since it had been raining throughout the night, the bottom of your gown now looked much darker, with damp dirt sticking to it. Aemond was right; your mother most definitely wouldn’t approve of the green blending into black on your gown.

“I thought you hated wearing the color green.”

You observe the way your brother links his hands together behind his back, holding on so tight that his knuckles turn white. You usually wore silver-gray clothing to match the scales of your dragon, Seasmoke. “It’s been advised that me and our sister wear green and gold to show support for our king.”

“I saw him entering your chambers last night,” he says quietly. “I intended on returning the book you so graciously let me borrow but thought it best not to disturb the soon-to-be couple.”

You had helped Aemond learn high valyrian as a child and would often share books about the history of your house. “You needn’t worry, brother, about returning a book. In truth, I think I misplaced the last one you gave me.”

“You mean the same one our king destroyed while inebriated?”

You smile up at him. Although Aemond was the second-youngest of your siblings, he was definitely the wisest. “How long do you think it will be until our grandsire returns from Dragonstone?”

“Not long,” he says, letting out a sigh. “I assume you’re not looking forward to his return.”

“Of course I am; he is—”

Aemond tuts, “is the reason your first marriage was dissolved, and in the place of our strong nephew, your to become a second wife.”

“I’m still surprised the faith is allowing this, or mother for that matter.”

Your grandsire was obsessed with Aegon sitting on the throne; he had started to plan Rhaenyra’s usurpation years prior. And he was trying desperately to recreate the image of Aegon the conqueror with your brother; he even suggested having two wives to mirror Visenya and Rhaenys.

“If I speak freely, you won’t think of me as a fool, will you?”

The gardens were empty at this time, aside from the knights on patrol and servants hurrying back and forth. It wasn’t often you were able to speak so openly, but Aemond never judged you. He nods for you to continue out loud with your thoughts.

“I’m a Targaryen, a dragon rider; I want to be more than just a broodmare.”

Surprised, he asks, “You want to be part of Aegon’s council?”

“Not necessarily his council... But I would like it if my future husband viewed me with respect and needs me for reasons that don’t involve squeezing out heirs. I want to do more than just my duty, I want to keep my family safe.”

Just as you reach the doors leading back into the keep, he pats your shoulder and says, “I’m sure you’ll be able to charm him into getting what you want; he does have a soft spot for you.”

—

Heart beating faster by the minute you refill the golden goblet Aegon was holding up. Anger was simmering beneath the surface, and even Sunfyre could feel it. The golden dragon was circling the sky above, roaring loudly, letting out the anger his rider was struggling to hide. “Everybody out, except the soon to be queen.”

You gather the goblets as each member of the small council leaves the room; surprisingly, Aegon allowed you to be present during his meetings that day as a cupbearer. Ser Criston squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, giving you a curt nod before closing the doors behind him, leaving you and Aegon alone.

Taking a moment, you lick at your lips and begin to unlace the top half of your dress so your breasts are nearly exposed. Many important things were discussed during the meeting, but you doubted Aegon wanted to rehash them, not when he had you sink to your knees and suck on his cock before the meeting started. When you turn to face him, Aegon is no longer sitting down; he is standing by the window, staring down at King's landing with a faraway look on his face.

He was scared.

Wrapping your arms around his bulky waist, you rest your cheek against his back.

“Do you know why I’m going to keep you close?” he asks, tilting his head. “Aside from having the sweetness between your legs whenever I want?”

“Aegon…” you groan at his vulgar comment.

“You won’t lie to me; everyone else is telling me what I want to hear and not telling the truth of what they think,” he says. “So tell me, do you think our elder sister would have killed us if she sat on the throne?”

“No.”

Aegon chuckles at your bluntness.

“But now that she’s been usurped, I suspect things will be different.”

“I could have your tongue removed for even suggesting such a thing.”

You took a deep breath. “You said it yourself; I won’t lie to you.”

Footsteps echoed back and forth outside the room, followed by Ser Cristion’s voice telling whoever requested an audience with the king that he was preoccupied. The thought of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, a man who had watched over you since you were a baby, keeping guard while you engaged in premarital sexual acts with Aegon, turns your stomach.

“I never wanted it,” he whispers. “Do you think our mother lied to put me on the throne?”

“Our father had twenty years to change his mind. But no, I don’t believe she would lie, but perhaps she was misled. not that it matters now. What’s done is done; all you can do now is try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

Aegon swallows as he slowly turns his face to you, but he stays close enough for you to keep hold of him. “What is your proposal?”

“If you want to strike the image of the conqueror, you’ll need to do what he did; he accepted counsel from his siblings, brothers, and sisters.”

Aegon stands up a little straighter, shaking his head. “When the king's hand spoke of sending ravens to different houses, you didn’t agree. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to overstep.” It was the truth; accept that it wasn’t Aegon’s reaction you feared; it was your grandsire. Otto had worked hard to have such control over your brother and would easily convince him to not allow you near any politics if he saw you as interfering.

He tuts, “What is it you wanted to say?”

“Why send ravens when you have dragon riders? Send us, me and Aemond, as envoys, just as Visenya and Rhaenys did for their brother.” Unlike Aegon, first of his name, your brother was no conqueror; he was just a boy who had been manipulated, but you did love him, the same as your other siblings. “You cannot expect proud lords to break oaths without a little convincing.”

“Okay, I’ll send you as my messenger. But what of Rhaenyra? What should I have done with her?”

“Nothing; no man or woman will follow a kinslayer. Allow her to remain as the princess of Dragonstone, and Lucerys the heir to Driftmark.” You move your hands to his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “It’s easy for the men on your council to advise you to kill her, but the gods would disagree. Our family does not need to tear itself apart, and you don't need to be remembered as a king who killed his own sister and her children.”

His eyes gloss over, but Aegon doesn’t seem sad, but irritable. The look he’s giving you becomes more intense. A chill runs down your spine as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, as he seems to be contemplating something.

“Aegon?”

“Don’t ever betray me, sister, and I won’t put that pup you care about so much to the sword.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

The Triceratons Experiment: part 3 (Angst) (18+)

2003!Turtles, Raphael x reader

Intro Part 1 (18+) Part 2 (18+)

A/N: How long has it been since I posted the last part? I don’t know either. But here is the 3rd part! A little shorter than the other’s but hopefully still as good. Hope you’ll enjoy❤️💚

All characters are aged up.

Warning: Sexual experimentation, orale - male receiving - interrupted female receiving, withholding of food.

Donnie had no idea how long he sat in that holding cell. It felt like many painful hours with his forehead against the cold wall, trying to cool himself off, his hand wrapped around his member, trying to work out the almost painful need inside of him, with the thought of your look, sound and smell still getting him going.

After Donnie finally felt some sort of relief, the fire in his veins finally seeming to disappear, he was guided back to the cell with his brothers. And just like it had happened when Mikey was returned the day before, Donnie came back to find food in the cell. And of course his brothers were ready to hear what had happened, and so, Donnie told them.

“But she was beautiful, wasn’t she?”, Mikey asked him, cutting him off, Mikey’s eyes almost sparkling at the memory of you.

“Mikey! You’re talking about a woman who has been captured against her will, and is now being experimented on with the use of us in a sexual nature! That’s not a way to talk about her!”, Donnie exclaimed. “But yeah, she was pretty cute…”

If it stood to Mikey, he would continue to ask Donnie questions about you, until he himself would have an idea of what you tasted like. But Leo wasn’t having any of that, cutting the conversation short, telling both of them to eat the food they had gotten instead, reminding them there was no telling when they would get food again…

Donnie’s story left Raph angry. So angry that he was almost shaking, having to fight the food down. He wanted to yell, bang on the walls, call the attention of the guards before giving them a good beating. But he didn’t. For once he didn’t yell up. Instead he tightened his fist by his side. He wouldn’t get to punch anything now, but soon he would. Very soon he would…

—

The next day it happened again - the turtles was being held back, while the other prisoners was allowed to go to the cafeteria. And when the four brothers were finally allowed out with the rest, it was the same thing all over again - there was no more food left. That was where Raph’s unsteady calmness finally fell, and in a fit of anger, he was about to turn over a table. It took all three of his brothers to try to calm him down, but they weren’t fast enough. Raph’s rage throughout the cafeteria didn’t last long before the guards were on him, holding him down onto the floor as he fought against them.

Raph heard his brothers calling out for him, telling him to calm down. That it wasn’t worth it. That this would only get him hurt. But Raph was seeing red. The triceratons had experimented on his little brothers, and now they were withholding food so they could do it again. Raph wasn’t having it, even if his brothers begged him to calm down. Raph was angry and he wasn’t calming down before got an outlet, preferably in the form of a triceraton head being slammed against the wall.

With his hands cuffed behind his back, Raph was escorted out of the cafeteria, his brothers being held back, only able to call out for him, begging him to stay calm and not get himself into any more trouble. But Raph’s troubles had only just begun…

Raph was guided down several hallways, guards keeping his cuffed arms in strong grips, making sure that he wouldn’t suddenly try to attack them. And as much as Raph wanted to attack them, he just couldn’t. There were too many guards around him at this point. He would have to wait for an opportunity to let his anger out. And much to his surprise, that opportunity came quicker than expected, although not in the way he expected.

Raph had expected to be thrown into a cell by himself, so that he would sit in isolation and “think” about what he did. But instead he was escorted into a lab, where he was faced by professor Exzor, looking at him with a wicked smile, only blowing a light to Raph’s anger. He took a few steps forward, ready to headbut the scientist right in his frontal horn, only for the guards to pull him back by force, before he could even get close to Exzor.

Exzor laughed, totally unfaced by Raph’s attempt to get free of the guards. “Throw him in the room”.

And so, the guards grasped a firm grip on Raph, before loosening his cuffs, and throwing him into the room Mikey had found himself in a few days ago. Raph landed on the floor, braising his fall by the help of his shoulder, causing minor pain to spread throughout that area. However he quickly got up, turning towards the door, running for it just before the slammed it shut in front of his face. Raph yelled in pure rage, slamming his fists against the door, kicking his feet against it, and yelling insults at the guards and Exzor.

“Scared assholes!”, he yelled, punctuating every word with his fist against the door. “Fight me! I dare you to fight me! Show me what you got! Come at me! Come at me!” But one of his words was answered. Only silence could be heard from the other side.

That left Raph alone in the gray cold room for what felt like hours, roaming around, rumbling and grumbling to himself, still as angry as before, frustrations building up, his fingers tensing for something to punch at. But then, all of a sudden, when Raph had backed himself up into a corner, checking the walls to find a way out, the door slid open, before someone was pushed in, falling onto the floor with a grunt.

Raph knew it straight away - it was you. There was no doubt about it. Pretty good looking and as naked as the day you were born. There was no doubt about it. You were the girl Donnie and Mikey had told Raph about.

“You!”, Raph growled at you, one hand clenching into a fist, the other pointing squarely at you. “You’re the one that- ARGH!- Gargh!- What the hell!?”, he coughed, holding a hand to his neck, as the air around him felt like it was getting thick. Thick with something that smelled strong and sweet. So sweet that it was clawing at Raph’s airways. “What the hell is happening!?”

“I’m not sure!”, you called out from the floor, grabbing at your own throat.

“As if you don’t!”, Raph snarred, finding his knees grew weaker under him, as he slowly lowered himself to the floor, bracing himself on the floor with his arms. His heartbeat was racing and sweat breaking from his skin. And to his horror, he started feeling a growing pressure just behind the confines of his cloaca.

You whimpered from where you laid on the floor, and Raph closed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the growing smell of your arousal, mixing with the horrendously sweet smell in the air. No matter how wonderful you sounded and smelled, Raph could not give in. He just couldn’t.

“If I help you, will you help me?”, you suddenly asked. Raph opened his eyes, finding that you were staring directly at him, your chest moving with your heavy breath, your skin already shining from your sweat.

Raph felt anger growing within him. How dare you ask him such a thing. After what had happened to his brothers. Did you really think that he would let himself get pulled into you like the others? No, he would stop this. He wouldn’t let this happen, even if he felt his member slowly emerging from his cloaca, before ultimately dropping at any moment.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”, Raph asked, still staring daggers into you. “Just like you liked what you did with my brothers”.

“You’re saying it as if I planned it! As if I’m the reason all of this is happening!”, you said, raising your voice.

“That’s because you are!”

“And how is it my fault?! One moment I was on a standard one man mission from Earth, and the next I’m here in this god forsaken place! I have no idea how I got here! So tell me again, how is any of this my fault?!”

Raph stayed silent, trying his best not to groan as his member dropped, begging for some form of attention. But Raph wouldn’t give it. He was too stubborn.

“And why should I trust you?”, he asked, fighting the dizziness from taking over.

“Because your brothers trusted me”, you answered, your eyes staring into his, causing burning spikes to fly within Raph. “And because I want to trust you”.

Raph swallowed a lump in his throat. It was tempting, oh so tempting. You were good looking, naked and oh so sweet smelling. An opportunity like this had never presented itself for Raph like this before, so it almost felt foolish to pass it up. But Raph still didn’t trust you. He had never been good at trusting strangers, and this time was no different.

“Why should we help each other?”, he asked, his question coming out as a deep groan.

“They won’t let us out before we do it”, you whimpered. “And the longer we hold out, the worse it will get”.

Raph felt like his whole body was on fire, and suddenly the temptation liked like mercy, his mind zoning in on it, and his stomach tingling at the thought. Raph couldn’t fight it any longer. He wanted it. He needed it.

“What’s the plan?”, he asked, watching as you slowly crawled your way towards him. What a sight. Sweaty, shaking with need, with your strong scent following you.

“I help you. You help me. Deal?”

“Deal”, Raph said, with absolutely no hesitation. And you in turn went straight to action, asking Raph to lean back as you entered his personal space. Still on his knees, Raph did as you told him to, and leaned back, allowing his thick member to stand big long between you, leaking with pre-cum, begging for attention. And you were eager to give it that attention.

Raph let out a deep groan as you took him in one hand, before giving him a long lick, all the way from where his member met his cloaca, to the very top. You did this a few more times, with all of Raph’s sounds going directly to your core, causing the wetness between your legs to grow even further.

“Quite teasing”, Raph said, already out of breath. “Or I’ll do it the way I want it”.

“Threats are supposed to be scary, you know”, you said, continuing your licking just under the head of Raph’s member. Raph was taken aback by your comment, but he was not about to let it slide. You were poking the bear, fueling something within him. But just as Raph opened his mouth, ready with a smart comment, you took him straight into your mouth, causing him to let out a deep and needy moan.

Lost for words, Raph watched you with hooded eyes, as you started popping your head on his member, taking him deeper than Raph had expected you to do. Raph leaned further back, propping himself up with one hand, while placing the other on your head.

“Shit”, Raph groaned as his spongy tip started repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. One of your hands came to rest on the part of Raph’s member you couldn’t fit in your mouth, moving it along with your mouth, engulfing all of him.

It didn’t take long before Raph could feel his high creeping closer and closer, prushing from within the confines of his cloaca. His head was spinning from all of his senses being stimulated. The sight, the sound, the touch and the smell of you made him shiver, and his mouth water at the thought of your taste.

You started gagging on Raph’s member, causing your mouth, tongue and throat to close in on him momentarily. Raph groaned out loud at the feeling, grabbing as fist full of your hair so he could move your head and mouth up and down his dick at his own will, hoping to get that feeling once again before reaching his peak. You gagged around him once more, causing him to thrust up against your face, making you moan, sending vibrations through his pulsing member.

Your hand that wasn’t wrapped around Raph’s member came to rest on his thigh, holding on as Raph continued to thrust into your face, groaning above you, his churring echoing through the room. With a few more thrusts he came, releasing himself directly into your mouth, shuttering as he felt you swallow. Maybe you weren’t as bad as he first thought.

You released Raph from your mouth before sitting up straight, whipping your mouth off, trying to hide your small smile as you looked up at him. “Remember, I help you, you help me”.

“You don’t have to tell me twice”, Raph said, before he quickly pushed you backwards and grabbed onto your ankle. “I always keep my promises”.

Now it was your turn to be taken aback. And just like Raph had done a few moments ago, you opened your mouth to give him a cheeky earful. But instead of any words you let out a needy moan, as Raph was quick to dive between your parted legs, giving your folds a large lick, all the way from the bottom to the tip of your clit. You grabbed for Raph’s head, pushing him closer against your core. But before he could go any further on you, the door slammed open, with the Triceraton guards barging in, pulling you and Raph apart to much protest.

“Hey!”, Raph yelled at the Triceraton guards. “I was just getting started!”

“You’re done for today”, the guard said, before putting a pair of handcuffs on him, pushing him out of the door and towards the cell his brothers were in. Once at the cell, they wasted little time before pushing him in there, letting him fall to the floor before promptly closing and locking the door.

“Raph!”, his brothers exclaimed, before quickly hurrying to his aid. “Raph, are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?”, Raph said semi sarcastically, still fuming with anger, after having been pulled away from you.

“Raph, what happened in there?”, Leo asked somewhat sternly.

“Those fun spoiling rhinos is what happened”, Raph said through gritted teeth. “I got a blowjob from the most beautiful woman, but before I could get a real taste of her, they decided to act like cockblocks! And what have you guys been doing? Eating?”

But then to Raph’s surprise, he noticed something strange. There was no food in the cell. Mikey stared dumbfounded at Raph, obviously still caught on the fact that not only had Raph gotten a blowjob, but he had actually tasted you. But the looks on Leo and Donnie’s faces was somewhat unreadable, leaving Raph with a sinking feeling.

“Raph, there hasn’t been any food today”, Donnie said.

Oh no.

—

“Log 68 on Human Studies by Professor Exzor. Date: the ninth of galamion in the year 56 of the Triceraton Republic.

The experiment with the turtle marked red was unexpected, and can’t be classified as either a failure or success.

The human and the turtle marked red was much quicker to give in than expected. The human has already spotted a pattern in conduct, and was quick to let the turtle marked red in on it, in order for both of them to find relief. This came about, even after the turtle has shown great indifference to the human, proving the hypothesis that Earthlings are willing to go far when it comes to mating.

Though we hypothesised that Earthlings would go through with mating, even when in pain, we found that the connection between pain and pleasure to Earthlings is much different than we thought. It seems as if pain is not a hurdle to overcome in order to feel pleasure, but that pain and some discomfort is part of the pain, and that pain from the lack of relief, is much different from the pain during mating. We will have to study this further.

For tomorrow's experiment to measure how long a human can go before release, we will measure pain receptors as well. For that to be possible, we will have to make sure that the turtle marked blue will go along with the experiment. With the last minute decision to withhold food from the turtles today, we expect that the turtle marked blue will agree.

For the Republic”.

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, part 3 (Sam x reader)

Summary: Time apart. Follows on part 2

Warning: Blood. Demons. Angst if you squint

Words: 8k

Boys, I wish I could’ve explained this in person, but I knew you wouldn’t let me leave. I’m not walking away from you or the fight—I’m walking toward the person I promised I’d be when I first joined you. I need to find her again. Don’t look for me.

That’s what you’d left behind. Nothing for Sam, no apology, no explanation beyond those carefully chosen words. No indication of where you were headed or when, if ever, they might see you again. They’d been confused at first.

Dean came looking for you not long after Sam regained consciousness. His knocks on your door echoed down the empty hallway, sharp and impatient, but no answer came.

At first, Dean feared the worst. The memory of you clutching your side during the hunt came rushing back, sharper now with the realization that he hadn’t checked on you after they got Sam stabilized. He’d been too focused on his brother, on Ruby, on the chaos. The idea that you might’ve bled out alone in your room made his chest tighten painfully. “Damn it,” he muttered, his fist pounding against the door one last time before he shoved it open. The room was eerily pristine, the bed made, the surfaces cleared of the usual clutter. It was too perfect, and for a brief moment, Dean thought you’d been taken—dragged out of the motel while he’d been distracted.

His gaze swept the room in a panic, catching on the empty closet and the missing duffel bag that used to sit by the foot of your bed. That’s when he saw it. The note lay folded neatly on the nightstand, your name scrawled on the outside in your unmistakable handwriting. Dean crossed the room in two strides, snatching it up with shaky hands. He read it once, then again, the words sinking in like lead. You weren’t taken. You’d left.

For a long moment, Dean just stood there, staring at the note as his jaw clenched tighter and tighter. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath. His grip on the paper tightened, crumpling the edges as a wave of anger surged through him. You were hurt. You were supposed to stay and recover. And what the hell did you mean, Don’t look for me? Did you really think he was the kind of guy who could just sit back and let you walk away?

Dean stormed back to thier room, the note clenched in his fist. When he reached the table, he slammed it down in front of Sam, who was still pale and sluggish, slouched in his chair.

“She’s gone,” Dean said bluntly, his voice tight. Sam blinked, his brows furrowing as he reached for the crumpled note. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Read it,” Dean snapped, pacing the room like a caged animal. Sam’s eyes scanned the letter quickly, his face darkening with each word. When he finished, he set the note down carefully, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet but strained. Dean stopped pacing, turning to glare at his brother. “I don’t know, Sam. Maybe because she got tired of patching us up and watching you play tug-of-war with a damn demon?”

Sam flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “Dean—”

“She didn’t even say goodbye, Sam,” Dean said, his voice breaking for just a second before he covered it with a sharp exhale. “What the hell does that mean?”

Sam’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Dean let out a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his hair as he stared at the note again. “I don’t get it. She was one of us. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.” Sam hesitated, then said quietly, “Maybe that’s why she left.”

Dean froze, his shoulders tense, but he didn’t argue. The words hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken truths pressing down like a weight neither of them wanted to carry.

Finally, Dean grabbed the note and stuffed it into his pocket, his expression hardening. “She said not to look for her,” he muttered, heading toward the kitchen. “But I’m not making any promises.”

Sam sat in silence, staring down at the table. The faint sound of Dean opening and slamming cabinets echoed in the distance, but his mind was elsewhere.

He thought about the way you’d looked at him in the motel room, the quiet pain in your eyes when you leaned in and told him, It’s me, Sam. He thought about the moments before that—your hands pressed to his chest, your voice trembling as you told him to hold on.

And now you were gone.

Sam closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Stupid,” he whispered, the weight of your absence settling over him like a shadow.

He’d been out of it last night—so much of it felt like a blur now. But one thing he remembered, clear as day, was the moment you got attacked by the Shadow Stalker. You’d screamed and before he even had time to think, he was already throwing himself between you and that thing. The impact had been brutal, the creature’s claws raking through his chest and shoulder as if he were nothing. He’d felt the burn of his body hitting the ground, the sharp ache of ribs threatening to give way. By the time he realized what had happened, he was already in the Impala.

His head was resting on your lap, the faint scent of blood and dirt mixing with the metallic tang in his mouth. Everything around him was hazy—the sound of Dean shouting, the rumble of the car engine, the warmth of your hands pressing against his wounds to stop the bleeding. You’d said something to him—your voice soft, steady, and full of worry. He couldn’t remember the exact words now, but he remembered the feeling of it.

He’d tried to reach out then, his hand brushing against the fabric of your jeans as he fought to lift it higher. He’d wanted to touch your hair, to brush away the blood he’d noticed streaked across it. But his strength had failed him, and before he could manage it, the darkness pulled him under again.

And now you were gone

The fever dreams had come and gone in waves. Something in the dark was always following him, its shadowy tendrils creeping closer no matter how fast he ran. There was a light ahead—distant, wavering, always just out of reach—and he chased it. He wasn’t sure why, but the instinct to reach it burned through him.

Then his eyes would open, and the real world would filter in, fragmented and confusing. Voices, sometimes low and steady like Dean’s, other times higher and softer. Was it you? He thought it was, but then the voice would shift, distort, and become someone else entirely. Ruby? No. It couldn’t be Ruby. Could it?

Heat pressed against his skin, making him sweat despite the cold ache in his body. Everything had hurt—sharp pangs in his chest, dull throbs in his head—but none of it mattered as much as the exhaustion. It weighed him down, pulling him back into the haze of his mind where the dreams waited.

Things blurred together there: distorted faces, shadowy monsters, fragments of hunts long since passed. It all swirled in a chaotic fog, except for one thing that stood out with perfect clarity. You.

You were there, in the midst of it all. You looked at him, said something he couldn’t quite hear, but the feeling in your voice reached him. It was grounding, pulling him toward you even as the darkness clawed at his edges. He’d opened his eyes again, and there you were, sitting by his side and he had mumbled something, he can't remember much of what he had said. Something about You and not regreting protecting you? He’d barely gotten the words out before the edges of reality blurred again. His mind flickered, pulling him back into the haze, but not before he noticed someone else in the room. Ruby. Why was she here? The thought barely registered before his head lolled to the side, his strength fading once more. Darkness crept in again, pulling him under before he could make sense of anything.

By the time he regained consciousness, the worst of it had passed. The fog in his mind had lifted just enough for him to make out the dimly lit room and the distinct shapes within it. Dean was slouched in the chair beside the bed, his arms crossed and his head tilted to one side, deep in sleep. Sam’s gaze shifted to the other figure in the room—Ruby, leaning casually against the wall with a lazy grin. “Finally awake, huh?” she said, her tone dripping with amusement. Sam frowned, the residual confusion making his head feel heavy.

Everything hurt—his chest, his shoulder, even his pride—but most of all, he felt a strange relief that everyone seemed to be okay. Dean was alive, and he could only assume you were too, though the room was conspicuously missing your presence. “How long?” His voice came out rough, barely more than a whisper. “A couple of hours,” Ruby replied, pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward him. “You were a mess. Guess I saved your ass again.”

Sam blinked, trying to sit up, but the sharp sting in his shoulder quickly convinced him otherwise. Ruby was at his side in an instant, her hand brushing against his arm to stop him. “Easy there, champ. Don’t go pulling those stitches.” He hesitated, glancing at her hand before looking away. Something felt off. Maybe it was the hazy memories of the hunt or the way her voice sounded too smooth, too deliberate. Or maybe it was the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind, the feeling that he’d somehow let everyone down by getting hurt. “Where’s—” he started, but Ruby cut him off. “Not here,” she said, her tone sharp but casual.

It must have been the look on his face that made her continue.“Does it matter? They’re fine. You need to focus on getting better.” Sam frowned but didn’t push it. His throat felt dry, and the ache in his body made it hard to think straight. Ruby crouched beside him, her dark eyes narrowing as she studied him.

“You’re still weak,” she said after a moment, her voice softening into something almost sympathetic. “That thing did a number on you. And if you don’t bounce back soon, it’s gonna happen again.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam muttered, his voice hoarse.

Ruby smirked, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn. I’ll give you that.” She straightened up, pulling a small blade from her pocket. The sight of it made Sam’s stomach churn, even before she dragged it across her palm, letting a thin line of blood well up against her skin. “You know what you need,” she said, holding her hand out toward him.

Sam stared at it, the sight of the dark, rich blood stirring a mix of instinct and revulsion. He knew she was right—her blood could heal him, give him the strength to recover faster than his body ever could on its own. He’d done it before, too many times to count. But this time… This time, something felt different.

“I don’t want it,” he said, his voice firmer than before. Ruby raised an eyebrow, her grin fading into something colder. “Don’t be stupid, Sam. You’re not gonna get better on your own.”

“I said no.” He pushed the words out through gritted teeth, his gaze meeting hers with a stubborn determination. Her expression darkened, the easy charm slipping away to reveal something more dangerous. “You’re seriously gonna let yourself waste away out of what—pride? Morality? Don’t forget who pulled you out of that mess.”

“I remember,” Sam said quietly, the weight of his words heavier than she might’ve expected. He thought of the hunt, of you running into danger without hesitation, of Dean working tirelessly to keep him alive. He himself didn't quite understand why he was turning a cure down, maybe that Shadow Stalker had infected his mind in a way that made him desperate to keep the dark out. And demon blood, was as dark as it could get.

“This isn’t the answer.”

Ruby’s jaw tightened, and she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’re being reckless. You think you’re stronger than you are, but you’re not. Without me, you’d be dead. Without this”—she held her bleeding hand closer—“you’re useless.” Sam’s chest tightened, a flicker of doubt threatening to take hold, but he pushed it down. He shook his head, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

Ruby’s smirk faltered for a split second before settling into something sharper, colder. “Not in the mood?” she repeated, her tone laced with mockery. “This isn’t about your mood, Sam. This is about staying alive.”

But it wasn’t just about staying alive, and they both knew it. He could feel it now—that gnawing pull, the faint burn in his veins that left him restless and raw. He hated that part of him, the part that had grown dependent on her blood, that craved the rush of power it gave him.

It had started small, just enough to stay sharp, to keep fighting. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway. But over time, it had become something else. He couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced when she answered his calls, the way he’d catch himself checking his phone like some desperate junkie waiting for a fix. Ruby wasn’t just a partner. She was his dealer, and every time he gave in, it felt like she tightened the chain around his neck. “I’ll figure it out,” he said finally, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. “Just… not now.”

Her smirk returned, cruel and knowing. “You’re such a cliché, you know that?” she said, leaning down slightly, her dark eyes boring into his.

"Afraid Dean might see?"

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he looked away. She wasn’t wrong, and that only made him hate her more. Ruby huffed out a laugh, short and bitter. “Fine,” she said, straightening up. “You do you, Sam. But don’t expect me to keep cleaning up your messes when you’re too proud to ask for help.” She wiped the blood on a rag, her movements brisk and annoyed, before tossing the stained cloth onto the table. “You know where to find me when you change your mind,” she added, her voice softening into something almost seductive. Her boots echoed against the floor as she walked away, the door clicking shut behind her.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Sam stayed where he was, staring at the ceiling, his hands clenching into fists. The ache in his body was relentless, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the ache in his mind.

He hated himself for wanting it. For the small, traitorous part of him that considered calling her back.

Not this time, he thought bitterly. Not now. But the doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of his resolve.

It wasn’t just the craving—it was the shame that came with it. The knowledge that he’d let himself fall this far, that he’d traded pieces of himself for power he wasn’t even sure he wanted anymore. He hated what it said about him, about the choices he’d made.

That’s why he kept it to himself. Dean didn’t know. He couldn’t know. The thought of telling him, of seeing the disappointment and anger in his brother’s eyes, was unbearable. Dean always believed in fighting with what you had, not what you could take, and Sam knew this would cross a line Dean couldn’t forgive. And you? You would see right through him. You always had a way of peeling back the layers he tried to hide behind, exposing the things he wasn’t ready to admit—not even to himself. You’d dig and dig, your concern masquerading as stubborn determination, and it would only be a matter of time before you uncovered the truth. He couldn’t let that happen.

So he kept you at arm’s length. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it. But it was easier to push you away than to risk you looking at him the way he was afraid you might. Like you didn’t recognize him anymore.

Sam sighed, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the motel’s air conditioner. He hated how tangled everything had become—how every choice he made seemed to push him further away from the people who mattered most.

You’re gone because of me, he thought, the words heavy and bitter.

He leaned back against the chair, his gaze drifting to the empty space where you might’ve sat if things had been different. If he hadn’t been too much of a coward to tell you the truth. The truth was... no he couldn’t say it. Even now, with the ache in his body and the haze in his mind, that truth would remain his for now. Still, he felt asif if somehow he had become this terrible monstrous thing. He didn't deserve you or Dean.

Sam let out a shaky breath, his chest tightening with a mix of regret and resignation. He wanted to tell himself it was better this way, that you were safer without him dragging you into his mess. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t true. The truth was, he didn’t know how to fix this. Not the addiction, not the distance he’d created between himself and Dean, and definitely not that coldness you’d left behind. For now, all he could do was sit with the weight of it, the silence pressing down on him like a punishment he knew he deserved.

The sound of drawers slamming and the clatter of gear being thrown into a bag jolted Sam from his thoughts. He blinked, lifting his gaze to see Dean storming around the room, his jaw tight and his movements sharp with frustration. “What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice hoarse from disuse. “What does it look like?” Dean snapped, tossing a handful of shotgun shells into his duffel. “I’m going after her.” Sam frowned, pushing himself up a little despite the protest in his shoulder. “Dean… she left a note. She doesn’t want us to go after her.” Dean froze for half a second before turning on his heel, his eyes blazing as he pointed a finger at Sam. “Don’t start with me. She’s hurt, she’s out there alone, and you think I’m just gonna sit here and twiddle my thumbs because of some damn note?”

“She’s not stupid,” Sam said quietly, his voice careful. “She knows how to handle herself.”

Dean scoffed, slamming his bag shut with a force that made the whole table shake. “Yeah? Well, she didn’t handle herself too great when she went toe-to-toe with that Shadow Stalker. Did you forget how banged up she was? I sure as hell didn’t.” Sam clenched his jaw, the memory of your bloodstained shirt flashing through his mind. He hadn’t forgotten. How could he?

“She’s trying to figure things out,” Sam said after a long pause. “She needs space.” Dean let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he shrugged on his jacket. “Space? That what we’re calling it now? Sam, she didn’t even say goodbye to you. She didn’t say goodbye to either of us.”

“That’s not the point,” Sam muttered, looking away.

“No, the point is she’s out there somewhere, bleeding and pissed off, and I’m not just gonna let her disappear without a fight. So why are you, huh?” Dean’s voice softened slightly, though the fire in his eyes remained. Sam didn't know how to answer him.

“We’re family, man. We don’t leave each other behind. That’s not how we do things.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the chair. “What if you chasing her just makes it worse? She doesn’t want to be found, Dean. You saw the note.”

Dean paused, his hands tightening around the strap of his bag. For a moment, the anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something rawer—fear, maybe, or guilt. “Yeah, well… tough,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “She can hate me all she wants, but I’m not gonna sit here and do nothing. Not when she might need us.” Sam didn’t argue, but the doubt lingered in his mind. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wasn’t sure if Dean’s stubborn determination would bring you back—or drive you further away.

Dean grabbed his keys, his movements resolute as he headed for the door. “You staying here or coming with me?” Sam hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. His body ached, his mind was a mess, and the thought of going after you filled him with equal parts hope and dread. “I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice low. “You’ll move faster without me.” Dean stopped at the door, glancing back at his brother with a look that was equal parts frustration and understanding. He didn’t push it, just nodded once before stepping out into the night. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Sam alone with the echo of his brother’s resolve—and the weight of his own inaction. He didn’t deserve to find you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

You’d hitched a few rides over the past day, bouncing from one truck stop to another as you slowly made your way north. The drivers didn’t ask too many questions, and you didn’t offer much beyond polite thanks and vague mentions of family up the road. It kept things simple, and simple was exactly what you needed. After that you were on a bus, the long ride stretching out before you as the highway unraveled into the distance. The seat was stiff, the air stale with the faint scent of old upholstery and spilled coffee, but it was quiet. That was what mattered most—quiet and distance.

It had taken another day or two to reach Bobby’s. You’d mapped it out in your head, calculating the stops and connections with the kind of precision that came from years of tracking hunts. But this wasn’t a hunt. This was something different, something heavier, and the weight of it sat in your chest like a stone. Youd leaned your head against the bus window, the blur of fields and trees rushing past. The weight in your chest was familiar now—regret, guilt, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You’d left to find yourself, but the question remained: Could you even recognize her anymore?

Bobby would have a place for you—you were sure of that much. Or atleast that was your thought process on the bus. He always had room for strays, and you were no exception. But the thought of facing him, of explaining why you’d left, twisted your stomach into knots. Bobby wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and you knew he’d see right through you the moment you walked through his door. You sighed, closing your eyes as the bus rattled on. You didn’t have all the answers yet, and maybe you wouldn’t by the time you got there.

You started to feel silly about the whole thing—walking away like this, leaving behind a life you’d fought so hard to build. Maybe you should’ve stayed, if only to see if Sam was okay. The image of him lying on that bed, pale and broken, flashed through your mind, and for a moment, your resolve wavered.

But you dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came. Staying would’ve only made things worse—for him and for you. You’d spent enough time trying to patch up the cracks in everyone else’s lives while ignoring your own. This wasn’t about Sam, or Dean, or any of it. This was about finding yourself again, about keeping a promise you’d nearly forgotten you’d made. Still, as the bus rumbled down the highway, a small, stubborn part of you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made a mistake. If maybe, just maybe, you’d left something behind that you weren’t ready to let go of. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy being back at Bobby’s.

The creak of the porch under your boots, the smell of motor oil and dust in the air, the piles of junk and old car parts scattered around—it should’ve felt like a refuge. But it didn’t. Not now. You leaned on the porch railing, staring out at the yard. Everything about this place screamed familiarity, but you couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on you. Being here brought everything bubbling up—the doubts, the guilt, the question of whether leaving had been the right thing to do. This was where you'd met the boys, and all just came flooding back to you.

When you’d shown up on Bobby’s doorstep, he’d just squinted at you like he could read the whole story written on your face. No lectures, no questions. Just a gruff, “Well, don’t just stand there like an idjit. Get your ass inside.” That was Bobby for you. You ended up, sat, in his kitchen, hands curled around a mug of coffee you hadn’t even taken a sip from. Bobby leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his eyes sharp and waiting. “You look like hell,” he finally said. You almost laughed at how matter-of-fact he was. “Thanks, Bobby. Nice to see you too.” He raised an eyebrow. “You want nice, you’re in the wrong house. What’s goin’ on?” You sighed, staring into the coffee like it held some kind of answer.

“I left.” His face didn’t change, not much. Maybe a flicker of something in his eyes. “You mean the boys?”

You nodded.

“You just up and walked out on ’em?”

“It’s... complicated,” you muttered, setting the coffee down. “Sam got hurt—real bad—and it just... it felt like everything was falling apart. There’s this distance now. Between all of us. Between me and him.”

“Sam, huh?” Bobby said, and there was something in the way he said it that made you feel like he already knew more than you’d told him. You rubbed the back of your neck, staring at the table. “I couldn’t stay, Bobby. I was... I don’t know. Waiting, I guess. Waiting for something to get better, for something to change. But it didn’t. And in the meantime, I was just... losing myself. Trying to fix everything, trying to keep up. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Bobby didn’t say anything for a minute, just tipped his head like he was weighing your words. Then he let out a deep sigh. “And now you’re here. Lookin’ for what, exactly? A pat on the back? Somebody to tell you it’s all fine and dandy?” You flinched a little but shook your head. “I’m just... I need space, Bobby. To figure out who I am outside of all this.” He nodded slowly, his face softening just a little. “Well, you got space here. Long as you need it. But listen to me—run all you want, you’ll still be you when you get where you’re goin’. That’s what you gotta reckon with. Not Sam, not Dean. You.” You nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong. “Appreciate it,” you said quietly.

“Don’t mention it,” Bobby grumbled, straightening up and heading for the fridge. “You want somethin’ to eat, or you just plan on sittin’ there starin’ at that coffee all night?” It wasn’t easy being back at Bobby’s. But maybe that was exactly what you needed.

The days at Bobby’s passed slowly, a strange blend of familiarity and restlessness. You threw yourself into work—cleaning up the salvage yard, organizing his cluttered shelves, fixing up a few busted cars. Anything to keep your hands busy and your mind too occupied to wander.

But even as you distracted yourself, the silence pressed in, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at your phone, half-hoping, half-dreading to see Dean’s name or a text from Sam. You’d received a few over the past few days, but you ignored all of them. The calls went unanswered, and the texts were left on read. The only message you sent was a short, vague reply: I’m safe. Don’t worry. It wasn’t enough to stop Dean from trying. He never took “don’t worry” for an answer, and his persistence made it harder to stick to your resolve. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pick up, to hear his voice and let him lecture you into coming back. But you couldn’t do that—not yet.

And Sam… well, you weren’t sure you could face him even if you tried. The memory of his pale, bloodied face haunted you, along with the weight of the words he’d mumbled before slipping into unconsciousness. You matter. You’d wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to the warmth of that moment. But it had been fleeting, and when Ruby’s name slipped into the air between you, it shattered everything you thought you’d felt.

You dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came. Staying wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would’ve only made things worse—for you and for them. You’d spent too much time trying to hold everyone together, trying to patch up cracks in people who didn’t even want your help. This wasn’t about Dean, or Sam, or Ruby. It was about you. And you’d promised yourself, long before you even met the Winchesters, that you wouldn’t lose yourself again.

Bobby didn’t say much at first, just watched you work with his usual scrutinizing gaze. He let you settle in, his silence almost comforting in its predictability. But that didn’t stop him from throwing in the occasional jab. “You gonna do somethin’ useful today, or you just plan to stand there lookin’ like a lost puppy?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the doorway as you sorted through a pile of old hunting gear. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you held up a rusted blade.

“I’m cleaning up your mess, Bobby. I’d say that’s plenty useful.” He snorted, but there was a softness in his eyes that told you he wasn’t as gruff as he pretended to be. “You keep that attitude up, you’ll fit right in with the junkyard.” Later that evening, as you sat in the kitchen nursing a mug of coffee, Bobby finally cut to the chase. “So,” he started, settling across from you with his own mug. “How long you plannin’ on mopin’ around here?” You frowned, your fingers tightening around the handle.

“I’m not moping.”

“Sure, and I’m the King of England.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not foolin’ anyone, kid. Least of all me.”

You sighed, staring into the dark liquid in your cup. “I just needed some space, Bobby. That’s all.”

“Space is fine,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But space don’t fix what’s broken. You know that as well as I do.” Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you didn’t say anything. When you finally looked up, his gaze was steady, unrelenting in a way that made you feel like a kid again. “I couldn’t stay,” you admitted quietly. “It felt like I was… drowning. Trying to keep everything together, trying to be everything for everyone. And Sam…” Bobby tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to finish. “There’s something going on with him,” you said, your voice faltering. “Something he’s not telling me—or Dean. I tried to figure it out, but every time I got close, he’d shut me out.”

Bobby didn’t respond right away, just tapped a finger against the side of his mug as he mulled over your words. Then, after a long pause, he said, “You’re not wrong about the boy.” You blinked, sitting up a little straighter. “What do you mean?”

He let out a sigh, his gaze drifting to the window as if he were debating how much to say. “Dean called me a while back. Said Sam’s been… different. Edgy. More than usual.” Your stomach twisted. “Did he say why?” Bobby shook his head. “Not in so many words. But he mentioned Ruby’s name a couple times. Said Sam’s been spendin’ too much time with her.” The mention of Ruby sent a chill down your spine.

“He’s in love with her,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his face hardening slightly. “Love’s a strong word. More like… she’s got her claws in him real deep. Sam’s a smart kid, but he’s also stubborn as hell. He thinks he’s doin’ what’s best, but I got a feelin’ he’s diggin’ himself a hole he can’t climb out of.” The knot in your chest tightened. You’d seen it too—the way Ruby hovered just close enough to keep him tethered, the way his shoulders relaxed when she was around. You hated her for it, hated the way she seemed to know exactly how to pull Sam’s strings. “He’s gonna get himself hurt,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. Bobby sighed, his gaze softening. “Maybe. But that ain’t your problem to fix.” You nodded, though the words didn’t settle as easily as they should’ve.

That night, as you sat on the porch with a blanket draped over your shoulders, you stared up at the stars and tried to make sense of everything. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint chirp of crickets and the distant rustle of wind through the trees. You thought of Sam, of the way his eyes had searched yours in that motel room. You thought of Dean, of his relentless determination to keep everyone together. And you thought of yourself, sitting here now, wondering if you’d done the right thing. The stars didn’t have any answers. Neither did you. But as the night stretched on, you realized that maybe Bobby was right. Maybe space wouldn’t fix what was broken.

You missed them.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Dean’s knuckles tightened around the wheel of the Impala as the miles ticked by. The road stretched ahead in a blur of asphalt and scattered headlights, but his mind was somewhere else. The crumpled note sat in the passenger seat, the words burned into his brain no matter how hard he tried to shake them. Don’t look for me. Like hell he wouldn’t.

He’d started at the last place they’d been, retracing your steps like it was any other hunt. Truck stops, diners, gas stations—he grilled anyone who might’ve seen you, his tone sharp and clipped, his patience nonexistent. A few vague descriptions matched your appearance, but they all pointed in different directions. It was like you’d vanished into thin air, leaving only breadcrumbs that barely stuck together. He pulled into another gas station, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead as he parked the car. The clerk inside barely looked up from his magazine as Dean approached the counter.

“Seen her?” Dean asked, slapping a photo onto the counter. It was a candid shot, one Sam had taken months ago during a rare quiet moment between hunts. You were laughing at something Dean had said, your head tilted slightly, your hair catching the light. The clerk squinted at the photo, his chewing gum slowing as he considered it. “Maybe,” he drawled. “Couple days ago. Hitched a ride with a trucker headin’ north.” Dean’s jaw tightened. “You got anything more specific?” The guy shrugged.

“Didn’t catch where they were goin’. She looked like she was in a hurry, though.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath, snatching the photo back as he turned toward the door. Every lead was colder than the last, and with each dead end, the knot in his chest tightened. You weren’t making this easy, but he hadn’t expected you to.

Back in the Impala, he rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in around the edges. He hated this—hated not knowing where you were, if you were okay, if you even wanted to be found. But none of that mattered. Not to him. Not when the thought of you out there alone, hurt and vulnerable, gnawed at him like a wound that wouldn’t heal. “Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

A memory flashed, sharp and uninvited—your laugh filling the air during a rare quiet night on the road. You’d been teasing Sam about something, and the sound of it had made Dean smirk despite himself. Now, that laughter felt like a ghost, haunting the empty space you’d left behind.

With a heavy sigh, Dean started the car and pulled back onto the highway. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

Sam sat alone in the motel, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. Dean had been gone for two days now, chasing after you with the kind of determination Sam couldn’t bring himself to muster. His shoulder still ached from the hunt, the stitches pulling every time he moved, but that wasn’t what kept him up at night. It was you.

He stared at his phone, your single message still sitting there like a taunt. I’m safe. Don’t worry. Safe, sure. But the “don’t worry” part? That was impossible. Sam leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled slowly. The truth was, he wasn’t just worried about you. He was worried about himself—about the way Ruby’s presence lingered like a shadow in his mind, about the pull of her blood and the power it gave him. About the way he couldn’t seem to stop craving it, no matter how much he tried. You’d seen it, hadn’t you? Seen the cracks he’d been trying so hard to hide.

Maybe that’s why you’d left—not because of the hunt, not because of the fight, but because you couldn’t stand to watch him fall apart. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It wasn’t you. It was Ruby. Sam stared at the screen for a long moment, his chest tightening as the familiar rush of guilt and need washed over him. He didn’t answer. Not this time. But the doubt lingered, clawing at the edges of his resolve. And as the silence settled over the motel once more, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was too far gone to fix any of it.

Was he being pathetic? Yes. But he also had an idea of where you might have gone, and that at least gave him some comfort. It was better than thinking you were out there with no plan, no destination. That wasn’t like you. You always had a plan. Still, the idea of you being gone didn’t sit right. He thought, at some point, to go to you. That maybe if he apologized… or said something—anything—you’d come back.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix whatever it was that had pushed you to leave in the first place. He just didn’t know what to say. It was a lot emptier without you. The motel room was cramped and quiet, the kind of quiet that made the cheap wallpaper and sagging furniture feel like they were closing in. Dean had gone out for food—or maybe just to burn off his frustration somewhere else—and Sam was left alone, staring at the scattered papers on the table. It was their usual setup: lore books stacked high, scribbled notes, and a laptop balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. But it didn’t feel right. Not without you.

You always brought order to the chaos, sorting through the mess with a sharp eye and steady hands. Without you, it just felt like clutter. Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. The motel’s AC unit rattled faintly in the background, doing little to cut through the stale air. His phone sat on the table in front of him, the screen dark, but he couldn’t stop glancing at it. He thought about calling you again, even though he knew you wouldn’t pick up. He thought about texting, about saying something that might make you reconsider. But every time his fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words felt wrong.

Too little, too late. Instead, he’d scroll through the texts you’d sent before—all the quick updates, the late-night jokes, the “be careful” warnings that were more about you worrying than the hunt itself. It felt like a lifetime ago now, like they belonged to a different version of himself. One who hadn’t let things spiral so far out of control.

The truth was, he didn’t know how to fill the void you’d left behind. Sam ran a hand through his hair, staring at the phone again. He’d sent you one last text the night before, short and to the point: We’re still here. Wherever you are, just… stay safe. You hadn’t replied. He tried to tell himself that it was fine, that you needed space, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. He wanted to believe you were okay, that you’d find what you were looking for, but doubt crept in every time he closed his eyes. What if you weren’t okay? What if you were out there, hurt or worse, and he wasn’t there to help

The door creaked open, and Dean walked in, his boots heavy on the floor. He had a bag of takeout in one hand and a six-pack in the other, but his face was set in that hard, determined way that made Sam’s stomach knot. He dropped the food on the table and slumped onto the bed, his shoulders tight and his jaw clenched. “Anything?” Dean asked, his voice clipped. Sam shook his head.

“Nothing.” Dean let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand down his face. "She's headed north" he pauses “Figures. She’s probably with Bobby.”

“Maybe,” Sam muttered, though he didn’t sound convincing. Dean glared at him, his frustration barely contained.

“You think I’m wrong?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know anything right now.” The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Dean cracked open a beer and took a long swig, his eyes fixed on the floor. For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Dean broke the silence

“She’s out there, Sam!” Dean snapped, slamming his bear on the table. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“And what do you want me to do, Dean?” Sam shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “I can barely move without ripping my stitches open. You think I can chase after her in this state?”

“That’s a damn good excuse, all you've been doing is mope around” Dean snarled. “You let her walk away. You just let her leave, Sam!”

Sam flinched at the accusation, his jaw tightening as he pushed himself up. “She didn’t leave because of me,” he said quietly, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

“Bullshit,” Dean hissed, his voice low and cutting. “She left because you pushed her away. Because you’ve been too wrapped up in whatever the hell is going on with you and Ruby to notice anything else!”

Sam’s eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t deny it. "You think I don’t feel guilty?” Sam shot back, his voice raw. “You think I don’t lie awake wondering what I could’ve done differently? I know I screwed up, Dean.” Dean’s glare softened, but only slightly. “Then fix it,” he said, his tone low and firm. “Before she’s too far gone.”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

You use to like the porch, use to come here a lot when you were younger. One night, after hours spent organizing Bobby’s shelves just to keep your hands busy, you found yourself sitting on it with a bottle of whiskey. The sky above was inky black, pinpricked with stars, the kind of night that would have felt endless and peaceful under different circumstances. But the quiet only made the storm in your head louder.

You stared at the bottle, your fingers curling around it tightly. “What the hell am I doing?” you muttered under your breath.

The answer didn’t come.

Instead, the memories crept in. Sam’s pale face, broken and bleeding on the bed. Dean’s shouts, frantic and sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. The weight of it all crushed you from the inside out, suffocating and relentless. Then there was Ruby, a name that hung in your mind like a noose, tightening with every passing second. And then this porch, it took you back to all those years ago, this was where you guys had met:

“We’re John’s boys,” Dean said simply, like you were supposed to know exactly what he was talking about.

“And?” You squinted at the pretty boy in a leather jacket, the sun high in the sky as you stood in the doorway. You were wearing something close to shorts and a flannel, a shotgun casually tucked under your arm.

“Look, sweetheart, we—”

“What my brother means,” the taller one interrupted smoothly, cutting Dean off before he could finish, “is that we’ve driven a long way, and we just want to talk to Bobby, if you don’t mind.” He smiled a polite, almost apologetic smile.

You glanced between them, your grip tightening on the shotgun as they lingered just outside the doorway.

“Names?”

“I’m Dean, and that’s Sammy—”

“Sam. Just Sam,” the taller one corrected, shooting a glance at his brother.

Your gaze shifted between them, taking in their clothes—well-worn boots, layers that were functional more than fashionable. You frowned. “You’re hunters?”

“The best,” Dean quipped, his tone dripping with self-assurance.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Aren’t you a little young?”

Dean’s smirk faltered for a second, replaced by a slight frown before he quickly composed himself. Beside him, Sam gave a small, polite smile.

“Thank you,” Sam said, his tone light, almost amused.

You tilted your head, considering them for a moment longer before stepping back slightly. “I’ll call him down,” you said, your voice firm. “But if you try anything, I’ll shoot you. Got me?”

“Loud and clear,” Sam replied calmly, his tone easy and steady.

Dean, however, looked a little annoyed, his jaw tightening as he glanced at his brother.

You stepped back inside, leaving the door open just enough to keep an eye on them as you turned to yell toward the stairs. “Bobby! You got visitors!”

That’s how you’d first met them. You’d been staying with Bobby for a while, helping out where you could, when they’d just showed up one day, and then again and again, until their appearances became less like interruptions and more like routine.

They had a way of pulling you in, those brothers. The kind of presence that made everything else seem smaller, quieter. Enough so that, one day, when they headed out, you’d gone with them. And you never came back.

That was a few years ago. A lot had changed since then.

You took a long swig from the bottle, the burn in your throat grounding you for a fleeting moment. But it didn’t stop the tears that welled up, hot and unrelenting.

“Shit,” you muttered, brushing them away roughly. You hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that you’d run, hated that even now, you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

The door creaked open behind you, and Bobby stepped out. His footsteps were heavy but unhurried, his presence as steady and solid as the creak of the porch under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the railing beside you. His sharp, knowing eyes seemed to cut through the dark.

For a long moment, the silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, finally, Bobby broke it. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with cryin’, you know.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t fix anything.”

“No,” Bobby agreed, his tone gruff but not unkind. “But sometimes it helps you figure out what’s worth fixin’.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with truth. You didn’t respond, just stared at the bottle in your hands. That was a day or two ago, but the memory of it still burned in your chest, raw and unshakable.

Today, you’d just finished up on one of the trucks while Bobby insisted on cooking, though it hadn’t done much to settle the noise in your head.  You felt too embarrassed to meet Bobby’s eyes after that night on the porch, like your vulnerability had left a mark you couldn’t scrub away.

The house was quiet now, the faint sizzle of the scrapyard humming in the heat. You threw the towel over your shoulder and leaned against the hood of an old truck, letting out a deep breath.

The day had passed slowly, dragging on like it was trying to remind you of everything you weren’t ready to face. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Distance. Space. Time to figure out what the hell you were even doing.

And then you saw it.

Out of the corner of your eye, a figure shifted just beyond the tree line. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light—a shadow flickering in the heat. But the longer you stared, the more certain you became. Someone was there.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you wiped your hands on a rag and stepped away from the truck. “Bobby?” you called, your voice cutting through the stillness.

No response.

The figure moved closer, stepping into the clearing with a calm, deliberate stride. The sun glinted off dark hair, and as they drew nearer, your chest tightened. Sharp features came into focus, along with a confident smirk that sent a chill down your spine.

“Ruby?”

She stopped a few feet away, her gaze sweeping over you like she was sizing you up. Her smirk widened, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Long time no see.”

Your stomach twisted, and your grip tightened around the wrench in your hand. The cool steel felt like the only solid thing in a moment that threatened to unravel completely.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharp, almost shaking.

Ruby’s smile deepened, a dangerous edge to her expression. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your little soul-searching trip.”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Dumm dummm daaa. (Please let me know if you guys are bored with this, because I know this one is not as fun as part 2)

Feedback is always welcome ;)

[eviesqueezie]

darry, setting up the tall ladder against the brick wall of the house, quickly spun around when he heard his name being called.

“curtis! phone call- sounds urgent.” his boss yelled from across the worksite, toothpick between his teeth.

darry nodded, speed walking over in the small chance that something had happened to either of his brothers- jumped or beaten or crying for a friend who wasn’t there anymore.

but, when he picked up the phone he was met with the familiar gravelly yet uncharacteristically frantic voice of tim shepard.

“are you there? hello?”

“tim? what’s- why’re ya callin’?”

he can hear tim’s breathing on the other side of the line, can hear his fingernails scratching against his skin.

“it’s- god darry, it’s curly.”

his voice is thick with something close to anger but not far off from tears, darry leans against the wall of the small shack and runs a hand through his hair.

“what? what is it? jesus is pony okay?”

“he’s-. curly fuckin’ died. pony’s- hes fine. oh god- what do i do?”

darry is speechless, words of comfort not even reaching his throat before dissolving in his stomach. he feels faint, a dizzying sensation flooding his vision.

too much loss haunted the east side of tulsa, nobody had ever really made it to old age- if they hadn’t escaped while they still could.

“i’m on my way tim, don’t do anything. where are you?”

“police station, had to- had to sign some shit.”

“stay right there, i’ll come soon as i can. swear it.”

tim chokes on the other side, mouth full of tears and cheeks wet with them.

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do without him. he weren’t a saint, but that was my baby brother. he didn’t even get to go to fuckin’ prom, didn’t-“

he pauses, and darry can’t find it in himself to interrupt.

“i can’t do it dar. i didn’t protect him.”

then, the phone hangs up and the monotone humming signals the call has dropped. darry slams the receiver back down and bites his tongue, ramming his fist into the shaky wood of the table before making his way back outside to let his boss know that he was leaving.

the weather didn’t match the mood, too sunny and bright for a day where a boy had died.

he had spoken to him yesterday god dammit. barely 24 hours and he was gone, never to be seen again until tim would be sent to identify the body. until he’d been laid face up in the casket.

the torrential rain had begun, he’d grown used to the seasons of storms. of being turned inside out like a puppet, ready to be stuffed with instructions. ponyboy hadn’t, this would destroy him all over again.

like a sick cycle,

all over again.

[shima-draws]

AGHHHH Tododeku during the Dark Hero arc hits so DIFFERENT listen to me

At this point they’re already in a relationship right. But even so there’s still INTENSE pining on both sides while Izuku’s off playing vigilante. Todoroki’s almost collapsing under the weight of his own stress worrying about not only his recently-revealed-to-be-alive brother but also his boyfriend who is being targeted by the most dangerous criminal on the planet. Is he okay? Is he even alive? Nobody will give him answers and he’s frustrated. And the one person he can turn to when he’s stressed and worried just so happens to be the person he’s stressed and worried ABOUT. And who is also missing! The UA staff literally had to put Todoroki on surveillance because he keeps trying to sneak out on his own to find Izuku. (The rest of Class 1-A is right there with him, also wanting to find Izuku, and eventually start finding Todo’s escape attempts hilarious as they intensify in their ridiculousness. Bakugou bitches at Todo but he was also caught trying to sneak off campus, the little shit. Aizawa has had it up to HERE with his kids)

Meanwhile Izuku, who is. Well. You know how he is during this arc lmao. On top of trying to save and protect everyone, he’s also fighting to protect Todoroki, who he cares about so deeply, who he’s terrified All For One and Shigaraki will target so he’s willing to take the bullet and lead them away from UA entirely. If anything happens to Shouto he’ll just…break. He can’t stand the thought. But he misses him so much, misses his friends so much, wants to go back home and curl up with Todoroki on the couch and watch old movies and hold his hand and it hurts so much not to see him but Izuku would rather Todoroki be alive and them be apart than them being together and Todoroki dying as a result of that. The TORTURE. It’s just so *chef’s kiss*

And then the reunion 🥺 Todo grabbing Izuku and holding him close and sobbing and saying I’m never letting you go again, never again, I couldn’t breathe without you here and Izuku’s crying just as hard going I missed you, I missed you so so much and I wanted to just give it all up and come running home to you so many times but I couldn’t. And they’re both whispering I’m so glad you’re okay, I’m so glad. And I imagine right after Izuku settles in, after the guys give him a bath and scrub him down, Todoroki wraps him up in a blanket and takes him upstairs into his room and curls up with him on his bed and just. Holds him. And starts crying 😭 And Izuku wakes up and cries with him and they just meld into each other and refuse to let go because this is what they NEEDED. They needed each other so much and they won’t let go now that they’re together again.

Slams my fist on the table GOD DAMMIT I’m normal okay I’m so normal about them listen to m

[black-cat-luck]

no one teaches an assassin

how to grieve

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

Damian is staring forward blindly, hands still sticky from not drying properly, suit still sticking to his skin, eyes still dry from crying all his tears. The room is painfully quiet, the last noise was the door slamming shut, still echoing off the empty walls. Damian is alone, the manor quieter than he’s ever heard it, uncomfortable and thick to sit in.

A new door opens, and Damian’s sight is filled with the face of his eldest brother’s, horrified eyes overlooking every one of the younger’s features, his lips move but no words reach Damian’s ears, his shoulders are shaken, but he doesn’t react, he doesn’t even blink. “Never forgive me.” He whispers, unsure when the words had managed to make their way up his throat, Dick makes a pained face and looks behind them, seeing their father’s bedroom door is shut. “I think you both could use some tea.” Damian hears those words, and then his body is cold as Dick moves his own away, taking his warmth and comfort. Damian seems lifeless again, unmoving until Dick is back in front of him a few minutes later.

There’s new voices now, Damian isn’t listening to anything, letting the hot cup burn his hands as he holds the tea Dick had forced into his grasp. He hears hushed whispers, gasps, curses. There’s other faces in his field of view, other worried hands prodding, pushing, trying to get a reaction out of him. He swats one away, and they’re at least grateful to know he’s aware.

After painfully long minutes, another door opens. Damian feels a chill run down his spine, and he nearly spills the tea as his shaking hands set it down onto the coffee table, head bowed as he listens to the footsteps getting closer, his heart beats loudly in his chest as he waits, and waits.

“Damian.” His father’s voice saying his name makes him cry, eyes squeezed shut as he bows himself lower, hands clenched in fists as he sits in his misery.

“Damian.” Hearing it a second time is near agonizing, he feels like he might throw up, petrified as he hears a few more steps, a new hushed whisper.

“Son.” Damian falls to his knees, sobbing openly now as he bows at Bruce’s feet, entire body trembling violently. “I’m sorry!” He chokes on his words, mouth full of his sorrows and pain, tongue feeling like it’d been split in two, he’s pressing his forehead to the ground, nails scratching at the tile, he’s never felt this kind of emotion, this mix of pain and terror, grief for someone who he can hear the breaths of.

“I know.” Bruce’s voice is soft, maybe it had been soft this whole time, Damian wouldn’t know. He can’t hear anything but his own cries, the ones that escape his lips, and the ones that he’s heard on repeat in his own mind for hours now. A hand touches his back and he flinches violently, worse than he ever has, pushing himself closer to the floor as if he’d been burned. “Please, son.” Bruce pleads, touching his back again, he waits until Damian lets him, and he places another hand on the boy, adding a soft pressure to his fingertips, coaxing Damian to lift his body up. The boy is heavier than he’s ever been, his grief dragging him as low as he feels. Damian cries out as if he’s pained, and Bruce doesn’t relent, eventually getting him to sit up.

Damian sits back on his ankles, face contorted in his despair, Bruce looks like he always has, and that’s what scares Damian the most, hands shaking as Bruce suddenly leans down, and hugs him. Damian is rigid as stone, hands opening and closing as Bruce squeezes him so tight he can’t breathe, face buried in his son’s shoulder. “I know you’re sorry, I know.” Bruce rasps, hands shaking as he rubs Damian’s back through the suit, and Damian can’t respond, his cries get louder, hyperventilating as he crumples in his fathers arms, throat raw as he screams, finally letting everything out of his small body, every noise and desperate cry is muffled in Bruce’s shirt, in Bruce’s arms, in his fathers comfort.

Bruce doesn’t let go even when they both struggle for air and have run out of tears to cry. Bruce lifts himself onto the couch beside them, and holds Damian in his arms just as tight as he had been. His son curls up closer now that he can, entire body engulfed in Bruce’s hold, comforted only knowing he’s in his father’s lap, it’s the safest place he could ever be.

The others are still there, as quiet as they can be, but on edge, alert, nervous and overwhelmed as they can only stare at the eldest and youngest of their family more vulnerable than either have ever been seen.

“I’m sorry.” Damian’s voice is hoarse, eyes sleepily struggling to stay open, staring at Bruce’s jaw, a bit of dried blood still staining the skin. “I know.” Bruce whispers, staring ahead of them as Damian’s hand grips his forearm, almost afraid to let go. “Can you ever forgive me?” His voice is weaker now, almost like he didn’t want to say the words, afraid for the answer. “I will.” Bruce responds, and that’s all Damian can hold onto, he doesn’t, he won’t for a long time, but eventually. One day, he will be forgiven.

“I’ve never felt that pain before. It wasn’t physical.” Damian says, sniffling. “Grief.” Bruce says its name like it’s an old friend.

“Grandson of the Demon Head.” Damian whispers, Bruce hums. “I wouldn’t have been able to get you to the pits in time.” He’s explaining, even as Bruce’s hold has tightened, he knows his father is swallowing down his anger.

“I don’t regret what I did. I regret I had to.” Bruce’s grip tightens if even for just a moment. “I know.” Is all he responds, Damian pulls one of his gloves off, licking his thumb, and wiping away the blood on his father’s throat. Bruce flinches at the first touch, but allows his son to continue. “You’ll forgive me one day. I can wait for that. The world needs Batman. I need my father.” Damian reasons, Bruce’s jaw is clenched, eyes dark as he stares at the empty hall in front of him. “I’ll forgive you.” He says, one day, he knows he will, Damian knows he will, so now they’ll both sit in their grief together.

Damian stares at the slight pink stain still on Bruce’s skin, the same skin he’d just seen torn open, the same blood that Bruce’s body laid in for thirty seven minutes, going cold, stained red, lungs empty of air. Damian knew he would never make it in time to get Bruce into the pits, he knew he wasn’t strong enough, a young teenage boy trying to carry his fathers body across the world to save him? It couldn’t be done, it wasn’t possible. But Damian was the Grandson of the Demon, Damian knew he had many possessions valuable to a hell crawler that would give his father back. It might’ve been easier to forgive, Damian thinks, if the life being breathed back into his father’s body wasn’t a curse. If Bruce didn’t wake up, and know he would never be put to sleep again. Immortality might have been a gift to others.

Bruce does not know what Damian traded for his life. Bruce fears Damian himself, doesn’t know what he traded. Bruce will never know, whether or not Damian knows, he will go to his own grave with the knowledge. A grave Bruce himself will have dug. Bruce is cursed to live through all of his children growing old and dying. Bruce’s own children couldn’t exist in a world without him that he is suffering the consequence of the same love he taught them. Bruce Wayne took on a mantle as both Batman, and as a father, and it is his curse that he is going to have to live with it, for the rest of eternity. Damian is sorry for cursing his father, Damian is not sorry that he couldn’t live in a world without him. No one ever taught an assassin how to grieve, and the son of Batman will stop at nothing to save someone he loves, even if they can’t forgive him for it yet.