#PUT THE SPLASH SHIELD BACK

[flock-of-cassowaries]

You know, if I had just witnessed a live bird erupt out of a dead woman’s chest cavity, flutter to the ceiling, and shake a fine spray of human viscera off itself, I don’t think that my first impulse would be to remove my splash-protection visor.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k words

Summary: You were forgetting something. However the most frustrating part was you couldn't seem to remember what exactly it was that you were forgetting.

A/N: This was inspired by this post by @bonefanatic! I know that it's Yandere!Batfam in the OG post but as soon as I read it this is just what it inspired. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

You were renowned for forgetting things.

You'd always forget to bring your keys the day when your mother happened to be running late. You'd forget your pencil case on the day of exams and forget your bus pass on the rare days that your father didn't give you a ride.

On sunny days you'd forget to wear your sunscreen. On rainy days, much like today, you'd forget your umbrella. Now, when you were a young girl, running back home through the rain wouldn't matter. In fact, you had vague memories of your feet splashing through puddles, hands shielding your face from the pelting rain while you and an old lover got soaked to the bone.

You could hardly even remember those days; just the sound of splashing puddles and the deep petrichor, the cold of the rain mixed with the warmth of someone's laughter...

A coo brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes met those of bright blue. The baby strapped to your chest gave you a semblance of a toothy smile, his teeth only beginning to come out and you returned it, leaning in to rub your nose against his, revelling in the giggles it brought out.

The sweet boy, who only ever saw you, was the reason you couldn't let yourself get wet, standing in the shade of an apartment building and choosing to wait out the rain.

You gave your baby a once over, making sure that he didn't get wet in your effort to reach the building. He looked fine and his clothing wasn't wet, although he did seem a little cold. You held his tiny hands in between your palms, repeating the process with his feet until you were satisfied.

The door of the building swung open and you immediately covered Thomas' ears to protect him from the cold breeze, letting him burrow his face into your chest.

In came a man that had to be larger than anyone you had ever seen in your life. Clearly, he had been caught in the rain, his boots were soaked and so was his leather jacket. He donned a motorcycle helmet, and your stomach lurched at the thought of him driving that out in this weather. Without realizing it, your eyes glanced over his figure, wondering if he had possibly gotten hurt.

When you brought your eyes back up from his muddy boots to his face you were slightly startled. When had he taken off his helmet? His blue eyes stared back at you, shock apparent on his features before he had schooled them back to monotony.

"Are you lost? I don't think you live here." His voice was low and gravelly, but it found a familiar place in the back of your head.

You gave him a small smile, "No, I'm just trying to wait out the rain. I forgot to bring an umbrella, and I really don't want my son to get sick."

His eyes glanced down to your son and you curiously watched as something swirled in his eyes. Longing perhaps? Maybe he had some baby fever? It didn't quite seem like that though...you just couldn't put your finger on it.

"Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"I already tried. The streets here are too narrow for a cab to drive through so I'd have to walk a bit before I'd reach the road."

He nodded, taking a beat before he responded, "Wait here."

And then he took off for the stairs and even though he looked relaxed, you saw him taking multiples stairs in a single step, resisting the curious urge to tell him to be careful and not to slip because of his wet shoes.

He didn't make you wait long, reappearing in less than 5 minutes with an umbrella and something else in his hands.

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Please, I insist. I don't think the rain is going to stop anytime soon and there isn't anywhere for you to sit down," He said earnestly, placing the umbrella in your hands, "I already called a cab. It should be waiting for you at the corner."

"Thank you, young man." You watched him run his fingers through the cute little tuft of white hair bashfully before he handed you something else—a fuzzy blanket patterned with bats.

You looked curiously up at him, "For the little guy. He looks cold."

You really wanted to refuse, but Thomas' nose and ears had begun to turn red from the chill and with the blanket he'd be better protected as you walked to the cab. So, you bundled up the baby in the cozy blanket and thanked the man again who said goodbye with a melancholic smile.

While taking the cab home, your fingers traced over the embroidered monogram in the corner of the blanket that looked like it was brand new.

T.W.

***

You don't know what it was about the travelling circus that had you so enraptured. There was just something about watching the acrobats soar through the sky like birds, as though they were weightless, that made you feel equal parts worried and in awe.

It was unusual. You didn't enjoy watching gymnasts while you grew up and you had certainly never visited a circus, and yet while sitting in the seats for the performance of Haly's travelling circus for the 4th time since they had arrived at Gotham, you couldn't help but wait in anticipation for the show to begin.

Thomas was clutched to your lap, every bit as excited as you were, when a man with dark hair and blue eyes—a common feature here in Gotham, it seemed—sat next to you.

You spared him a glance, only to find him staring back at you with a small smile and a cone of roasted chestnuts in his hand. He handed you a pair of ear protectors.

"They're handing it outside the tent—wouldn't want the little guy to hurt his ears."

You thanked him with a smile, placing them over Thomas' ears and giggling when he laughed at you pointing at the man who returned his toothy grin with one of his own.

"Would you like one?" He offered, holding out the warm chestnuts for you to take and you obliged, thanking him and relishing in the taste and the immediate warmth that spread through your body.

"So, what brings you to the circus?"

Your arms tightened around Thomas, resting your cheek on the top of his head as you contemplated the answer, "I don't know. I just like the acrobats. Every time I watch them, I feel comfortable, like I've been watching them my entire life. Which is weird because I've never seen acrobats before Haly's circus came to Gotham."

You looked back at him, "What about you?"

"My mom used to be an acrobat here. After I lost her, I like to visit, so I don't forget her." He explained, eyes scrolling across the bright colours of the circus, taking everything in. You placed a gentle hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

He looked down at Thomas, watching as the baby gave him an innocent grin that had returned with a sad smile and giving a delicate little pinch to his pudgy thigh before looking back up at you.

"I really don't want to lose my mom a second time."

***

One thing you really couldn't appreciate enough before having children was the freedom to shop for groceries all alone. Now, after having an infant, something as simple as stocking the fridge turned into a long and arduous feat.

You’d have to get Thomas dressed, make sure his nappy was changed, and time it just right—long enough since he’d eaten that you wouldn’t need to change him again, but not so long that he’d get hungry and need you to breastfeed him in the middle of the store.

Not only that, you'd also be stuck pushing a cart around with him strapped to your chest because he was still too young for the shopping cart.

And finally, the most torturous part of this whole excursion—the car loading. Most of your bags were heavy and packed full, and you couldn’t load them into the trunk with Thomas strapped to you.

So, you’d carefully place him in the car seat, turning on the engine and air conditioning to cool the car after its time baking in the parking lot. Then, you’d haul the heavy groceries into the trunk, turn off the car, take Thomas back out, return the trolley to its rightful place, and—once again—secure him in his car seat before finally heading home.

You stared at the cart full of groceries—enough to last you at least 3 weeks so you wouldn't have to make another trip for a while—trying to summon the energy to load the heavy items in the blasted vehicle.

"Mo—Ma'am?"

A young man approached you, a half-drunk coffee in his hand and your brows twitched. Just how many coffees had this boy had today? You shook your head of the thought. Why would you even care?

"Do you need some help?"

Giving him a polite smile, you shook your head, "I'm okay. Thank you, sweetie."

He gave you a sad smile, and it made you immediately want to take your words back and to give him the world instead. The feeling confused you even more. Why were you so concerned about him? And why did he look so sad after you refused his request? If anything, he should’ve been relieved that he wouldn’t have to do any work.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind." He tried again, this time placing his hand on the handle of the trolley, his hand just a hair away from yours. It was peculiar—your instinct for stranger-danger urged you to pull your hand away, and yet, you felt an equally strong urge to place your hand over his.

You smiled again, "I guess I'll take you up on your offer."

He was stronger than he looked. Despite his scrawny frame, he easily lifted your bags into the trunk, loading everything and shutting it in record time. Dusting off his hands with a proud smile, he turned to you as if expecting praise—only to deflate when he caught you watching him with a small, lingering smile.

It was as though he grew sadder with each passing second, his expression dimming as he gave you one last longing look before turning that same gaze to Thomas, "I’ll return the cart for you. Why don’t you strap him in?"

You nodded, thanking him again, "Thank you so much for your help."

Using Thomas’ little fist, you waved goodbye to the boy. He returned it with an expression far too tired for his young face. You resisted the urge to tell him to get a good night’s rest, instead watching him push the trolley away through your rearview mirror. A pang hit your chest at the sight of his slumped shoulders.

***

A figure collided with your back and you would have been knocked over if he had been any taller, however when you looked down, a young boy with dark hair and beautiful green eyes looked back up at you.

"Ummi..." He murmured, before he even had a chance to stop himself and you frowned in concern for this child who couldn't have been more than 9 years old who all of a sudden looked so small and unsure and something in your soul reached out for him.

You leaned down, well, as much as you could with a baby strapped to your chest, "Did you lose your mom, sweetheart?"

He flinched, eyes going wide and his bottom lip began to tremble in a way that made you want to hold him to your heart and soothe him, "Yes...I have lost my ummi...and I wish she'd come back....I miss her very much."

You reached out a hand before you could stop yourself, almost reaching for him to run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails lightly against his scalp—

"Damian!"

Your hand froze an inch away as a man, slightly older than you, ran up to him. When your eyes met his, a rush of something surged through you—so intense and so sudden that there wasn’t even time for an epiphany.

All you knew was, you had met this man before.

Only, you couldn't remember when.

"I'm sorry about him. You know how kids are." The man with familiar blue eyes told you, flashing you a charming smile that had done an incredibly good job of hiding the misery underneath. And yet, you still saw past the mask. And still… you chose to look away.

You smiled up at him before glancing down at Thomas, now realizing why this curious stranger's eyes felt so familiar—your son looked up at you with almost identical ones, "I do know."

The man followed your gaze to the happy baby in your arms and you watched as the corner of his lips had dropped from the calculated smile he had worn. It was like he had frozen in time and the more you watched him, the more despondent his expression became.

His son—Damian. Why did that name sound so familiar?— looked up at him with concern, now grabbing his hand and tugging him away.

"Baba." He said softly, finally managing to knock the man out of his stupor.

"Oh," He finally spoke, looking down at his distressed son, "I'm sorry, miss. I hope my son didn't hurt you or the baby. If you need any medical bills covered, you can contact this number."

He handed you a business card and walked away before you could even argue about how absurd it was that you would ask for him to pay your medical bills over his adorable son bumping into you. It was an honest mistake!

You could only watch them walk away before your eyes looked down at the Wayne Enterprises business card.

"Bruce Wayne, CEO."

'Bruce'

You swore you had heard that name before.

And yet... you'd forgotten.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@eloriis

[bookwormjust]

Shadows in the Sun (established relationship with Azriel, sunny day with the IC, Overprotective mate, teasing by Cass and Rhys)

It was the perfect summer day by the Sidra, the sky a brilliant blue with not a single cloud in sight. The Inner Circle had decided to spend the afternoon by the river, taking advantage of the warm weather. Feyre and Mor were lounging nearby, laughing and talking, while Cassian and Rhys splashed around in the water like a pair of overgrown children, their wings sending up waves as they wrestled with each other.

You were stretched out on a soft towel, basking in the warmth of the sun as the river's gentle breeze rustled through the trees. The heat on your skin was soothing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could fully relax. The sounds of your friends' laughter mixed with the rush of the water, creating a perfect atmosphere of peace.

But you knew peace wouldn’t last for long with Azriel around.

You sensed him before you saw him—the familiar whisper of shadows lingering in the air, brushing against your skin as if trying to warn you. A soft chuckle left your lips, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Moments later, you felt a cool shadow fall over you, blocking the warmth of the sun. You opened your eyes, squinting slightly as Azriel stood over you, his wings stretched wide, casting a protective barrier between you and the sun’s rays.

"Azriel," you groaned with a laugh, playfully swatting at him, "I’m trying to tan."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in that way that made your heart flutter. "You’ve been in the sun long enough," he said, his voice calm but laced with that overprotective edge you knew so well. "You’ll burn."

Before you could protest, he knelt down beside you, the dampness from his swim causing droplets of water to fall onto your skin. His wings curled slightly around you, shielding you from the bright light. You could see his brothers behind him, still in the water, casting knowing glances your way.

Cassian yelled from the river, voice dripping with teasing, "Az, let her get some sun! Stop being a mother hen!"

Azriel ignored him, his attention completely on you as he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you’d left beside your towel. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, and without asking, he popped the cap open and poured some into his hands.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Azriel’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m taking care of you,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He started with your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he massaged the sunscreen into your skin. The feeling of his hands on you, combined with the coolness of the lotion, sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat of the day. His fingers trailed over your arms, making sure not to miss a single spot, his eyes focused intently on his task.

“You’re overprotective, you know that?” you teased softly, your voice laced with affection.

Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, creating a cocoon of shade around you. His gaze flickered to your face, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said with a soft laugh, tilting your head back as he moved to rub sunscreen along your legs. “But you do know I’m capable of putting sunscreen on myself, right?”

Azriel’s smile widened, though his eyes were serious as they flicked up to meet yours. “I know. But I like taking care of you.” His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, his touch filled with tenderness as he continued his task.

You couldn't help but melt under his care, your heart swelling at the softness in his voice. Even as a formidable warrior and shadowsinger, Azriel was always gentle with you, always showing his love in these small, protective ways.

Rhys called out from the water, clearly amused by the scene playing out in front of him. “Azriel, I think she’s good! You missed a spot on her elbow, though.”

You rolled your eyes, and Azriel shot his High Lord a half-hearted glare before returning his focus to you. Once he was satisfied with his work, he leaned back on his heels, his wings folding slightly but still providing you with shade. “You can tan later,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer. “I just don’t want you to burn.”

You reached out, resting your hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” you whispered, letting him know how much you appreciated his protectiveness, even if you didn’t always admit it out loud.

Azriel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

As he stood, you could see that familiar glint of mischief return to his eyes. “Now, stay here where it’s safe,” he teased, his wings flaring slightly as he turned back toward the river. “I’m going to deal with my brothers.”

With a wink, he stalked back toward the water, his shadows trailing behind him as he approached Cassian and Rhys, who were still laughing at his overprotectiveness. But from the look on Azriel’s face, you knew they’d be on the receiving end of his payback soon enough.

And as you lay back down, smiling to yourself, you knew that no matter how overprotective your mate could be, you wouldn’t trade him—or his giant, shade-casting wings—for anything in the world.

[crushpunky]

rafe surprises kook!reader with a new “friend”

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

this one is sort of long, so enjoy <3

Beach days were a tradition for the youths of Kildare and y/n and the boys were no exception, often spending their days off lounging in the sand, soaking up the sun, and splashing in the ocean. So, when Kelce suggested they meet up in their “spot”, y/n was ecstatic. Sure, Topper would probably bring Ruthie, which would undoubtedly put a damper on a bit of the fun, but they could still manage.

“You got everything?” Kelce asked, his hands full with beach chairs and the umbrella. Y/n slammed the door to Kelce’s car, her own arms full with snacks, towels, and sunscreen. Kelce and y/n, ever the time sensitive people, had gotten to the beach first, Topper and Rafe texting they were stopping to pick up some drinks and ice.

“Yep, all good, Kelc.” Y/n grinned as the two of them made their way across the sandy terrain before beginning to set up camp in the usual spot. Despite the beautifully sunny day, the beach was nearly empty, littered only with a few other locals who knew about the spot. As Kelce finished setting up the umbrella, y/n spotted Rafe’s Jeep parking next to Kelce’s car. Shielding her eyes from the sun, y/n waved to them as they got out of the car: Topper, Ruthie, and Rafe… and Sofia?

“Howdy, y’all!” Topper said cheerfully, Ruthie and him lugging a cooler between them. Rafe and Sofia trailed behind them carrying beach chairs. Y/n swallowed harshly, flashing a smile once again before returning to setting up her beach towel. She didn’t have any issue with Sofia, she was a whole lot nicer than any of the other girls Rafe had hooked up with over the years, but then again, none of those girls had ever really talked to or even acknowledged her…

“‘Howdy’?” Kelce teased as Topper and Ruthie sat the cooler down, Sofia and Rafe dropping the chairs behind them.

“Exactly.” Ruthie scoffed. “He sounds like a fucking pogue.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting to Sofia as she looked down at her feet quietly.

“No, I think he’s just been spending too much time with you. Starting to lose his cool factor.” Y/n said, a sarcastic smile on her lips, causing Sofia to let out a muffled giggle. Ruthie scowled before plopping down in one of the beach chairs.

“Sof, you want something to drink?” Kelce asked as he dug into the cooler.

“Uh, sure. Do you have any pineapple High Noons?” Sofia said with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, you’ll just have to fight y/n for it. There’s only one left and that’s her favorite.” Kelce laughed, his gaze jumping between the two girls. Y/n looked over at Sofia, who was looking at Rafe nervously. Rafe glanced over at y/n, his mouth open as if he was about to say something.

“She can have it. I’ll have… something else.” Y/n nodded, digging into the cooler before offering the last pineapple drink out to Sofia. She took it with a grin, settling into one of the beach chairs. Rafe walked over to the cooler, grabbing a beer and popping it open.

“You didn’t tell us you were bringing a friend.” Y/n said, grabbing a beer and attempting to pry the cap off. Rafe watched, a smirk spreading across his lips as she struggled.

“Thought you’d like that I have friends other than you three dumbasses.” Rafe said, grabbing the beer from y/n. He lifted the hem of his shirt, a sliver of tanned skin peaking out as he popped the lid open before handing it back to her.

“I forgot I’m talking with Mr Rafe Cameron, King of Kildare, friend of all.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully before sitting down on her towel. She shrugged off her coverup, adjusting the straps of her swimsuit before settling down with her book.

“Rafe, could you get my back?” Sofia asked, offering a tube of sunscreen out to Rafe. Y/n’s eyes danced up from her book as Rafe nodded, taking the sunscreen. She watched as he rubbed it along Sofia’s shoulders, his hands moving skillfully across her flawless, tanned skin. Y/n could feel her cheeks warming as his fingertips moved along Sofia’s toned torso before finally finishing on the small of her back.

“Girl, you need some?” Rafe asked, tearing y/n’s gaze away from the way his hands moved. Y/n blinked harshly, noticing as Sofia turned around, her eyes darting between her and Rafe, her brows furrowed.

“Um… I’m fine.” Y/n said shortly. Rafe shrugged before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it down into the sand. Y/n’s eyes quickly feel back to her book, feeling her heart skip a beat at his muscled body. Y/n was very much aware of the effect Rafe had on women… however, that didn’t mean she herself was immune to it, of course. Doing her best to rid her mind of Rafe and Sofia, y/n sank further into the sand and took a sip of beer, trying to distract herself with the words on the pages in front of her.

It had been hours of y/n trying (and failing) to get through her book, but she kept finding her eyes floating up to look at Rafe and Sofia. The two of them chatted lightly, their beach chairs resting closely to each other as Sofia smiled up at Rafe. He grinned back at her, biting his lip in a way that made an odd feeling rise in y/n’s chest… what was it? Annoyance? No, Sofia was a sweet girl and Rafe was her best friend. Anger? No, neither of them had done anything. Jealousy? Shit. She took another sip of another disgusting beer, the buzz of the alcohol helping to numb her head, but not to stop the churning in her stomach.

“Hey, you guys want to get in the water?” Topper asked, Ruthie hanging off his arm. Rafe and Sofia glanced between each other before getting up out of their chairs.

“I’ll get out there in a minute. You guys go ahead.” Y/n said, swallowing harshly as she squinted up at her friends. Kelce quirked an eyebrow, remaining in his chair.

“Suit yourself, party pooper.” Ruthie sang, flashing a fake smile before pulling Topper out towards the water.

“I’m going to drown her.” Rafe looked down at y/n, his eyes wide. Sofia giggled, elbowing Rafe lightly, which caused a grin to spread across her face.

“You can do it, boy. Have fun.” Y/n hummed causing Rafe to groan. With an exaggerated sigh, he and Sofia made their way out towards the water with Topper and Ruthie. Y/n watched as the two of them waded deeper into the water, Sofia’s hand grasping onto Rafe’s bicep as the waves crashed around them. She felt her heart clench, watching as he lifted her into his arms, causing Sofia to squeal before he tossed her into the water. Once she resurfaced, she splashed water at Rafe, the two of them smiling wildly under the sun.

“You good?” Kelce said, forcing y/n’s gaze away from the way Rafe and Sofia laughed in the water. As she looked over at Kelce, she felt the familiar prickle of tears in her eyes. Why was this hurting so much? Rafe was happy, the thing she had hoped for for so long after all the shit he had been through. Yet, here she was, crying like an idiot.

“I’m just not feeling well… I think I should go home.” Y/n whispered, her lip trembling slightly as she closed her book.

“Um, do you want me to drive you?” Kelce asked, his gaze darting out towards the water.

“Yeah… thanks.” Y/n said quietly, swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat. Kelce nodded, getting out of his chair and shuffling through the beach bag for his keys. Y/n followed suit, shrugging on her coverup and beginning to roll up her beach towel.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Y/n turned to see Rafe wading out of the water, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

“Y/n said she wasn’t feeling well. I’m gonna run her home, but I’ll be right back. I’ve got a few more hours left in me.” Kelce said simply. Rafe’s head whipped over to look at y/n, his brows furrowed.

“I’ll run her home. I think I’m done for the day.” Rafe said, his gaze suspicious as he  grabbed his towel from the chair.

“No, it’s fine, Kelce said he’d take me—” Y/n started, pulling her beach bag onto her shoulder.

“I’m taking you home, y/n. It’s fine. I was ready to leave anyway. This sun is kicking my ass.” Rafe said, folding up one of the beach chairs and slinging it onto his arm.

“What about Sofia?” Y/n gestured out towards the water where Sofia stood talking to Topper and Ruthie, her body awkward as she stood opposite the couple.

“Kelce will hang take care of her, right Kelc?” Rafe cocked his head towards the water. Kelce’s eyes widened before a smirk danced across his lips. Without another word, he tore off towards the water (and towards Sofia) at a near sprint.

“Seriously, Rafe?” Y/n scoffed, putting her hands on her hips as she stared up at Rafe as he began to make his way towards the car.

“What?” Rafe turned back to her with a shrug before continuing towards his Jeep. Y/n jogged behind him, her feet trudging through the sand to keep up with his long strides.

“You’re seriously just going to abandon your girlfriend here with—”

“Woah, woah, woah. My ‘girlfriend’?” Rafe said with a small chuckle as they neared the car. Y/n knit her brow as Rafe opened the back of his Jeep, slinging the beach chairs into the back with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I mean… you invited her here. You’ve never brought any of your other hookups to something like this…” Y/n said, eyeing Rafe suspiciously as he took the beach bag from her and sat it in the car.

“I didn’t invite her to anything,” Rafe chuckled. “We ran into her at the gas station when we went to get the drinks and Topper, in all his extroverted glory, invited her… and she’s definitely not my girlfriend. I haven’t even talked to her in months.”

Y/n blinked harshly, her mouth falling slightly agape at Rafe’s reveal. Rafe smirked as he closed the back of his Jeep.

“Why, did you think we had something going on?” Rafe teased, elbowing y/n lightly. Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes as she rounded the Jeep. Rafe followed her, opening the passenger door with a smirk as y/n climbed in.

“You guys were being all couple-y, with the sunscreen and playing in the water… I just thought that maybe there was something going on.” Y/n shrugged as Rafe climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t do anything with her I wouldn’t have done with you.” Rafe peered at y/n from the corner of his eyes as he put the key in the ignition. Y/n furrowed her eyes for a moment before really thinking about what he said. The touching, the smiling, the teasing… all things, and more, he had done with her a million times before. Hell, he had even offered to put sunscreen on her, and she had said no.

Y/n groaned, allowing her head to fall back onto the headrest in embarrassment. Embarrassment because of the jealousy that she had allowed to creep up on her until she had freaked out, letting it consume her to the point of tears and nausea.

“Aww, someone was jealous.” Rafe teased. Y/n slapped his arm lightly, causing him to let out an exaggerated gasp as they pulled away from the beach.

“Shut up.” Y/n shook her head, a grin spreading across her lips.

“Don’t you worry. You’ll always be my favorite girl.” Rafe whispered, grabbing y/n’s hand and squeezing it lightly, his gaze focused on the road in front of them. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at the gesture, the words causing her heart to flutter.

“Do you think we could get milkshakes?” Y/n asked, blinking up at Rafe.

“I thought you didn’t feel well.” Rafe scowled.

“Nothing milkshakes couldn’t fix.” Y/n grinned. Rafe rolled his eyes, pulling a u-turn and heading towards y/n’s favorite ice cream shop. Sure, it was the complete opposite direction of either her or his own homes, but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his favorite girl.

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his shy gn s/o nervously asking if they can kiss him on the lips?

note: going to answer his as if it’s their first kiss together reader is asking for!

bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13

Astarion

tries to downplay how genuinely pleased he is by putting on his typical bravado “oh well I knew you couldn’t keep away, darling”

secretly chuffed because he understands having boundaries over your body and he’s pleased that you’re comfortable enough with him to ask

doesn’t want to make a big deal about it in camp but doesnt hide, either — wraps an arm around your waist and brings you to where he’s standing in the mouth of his tent

wants to make it special. catches your lips with his fangs a little but not too hard.

melts a little when he feels your hand gently run up his chest.

when you break apart, smiling, he feels a little thrill at how happy you look ❤️

Gale

surprised you’re asking! out loud says, “you don’t need permission to kiss me, they’re always gladly accepted.”

but sees how much courage it took for you to ask. Is so happy you trust him.

looks around, “where do you want me…? it has to be perfect…”

that’s enough to break some tension, you laugh and press your lips to his

his hands settle on your waist. not too tight, just enough to anchor you to the moment

you can feel him smile into it 💕

“well I certainly hope that we’re able to repeat that.”

you laugh, and go in for another one…

Wyll

my man is a romantic. this kiss is at a planned event.

not that he’s pressuring you into it! he just wants to have a lovely romantic date and it so happens that that’s where you feel safe enough to ask.

you're sequestered away from the group, little picnic spread out, he wanted to have a nice moment for just the two of you.

you gather up the courage to ask him and he’s surprised for a moment! but then he smiles; hand sliding up your arm to cup your face, his lips meet yours when you lean into it

it’s perfect. soft, gentle, loving. you can feel the emotion behind it.

he’s smiling when he pulls back. for a moment, you want to apologise for not instigating this sooner. but then, as if he’s read your mind:

“you’re worth waiting a lifetime for.”

Halsin

honoured you trust him enough to ask.

he doesn’t care about rushing into anything. he’s an older man, happy to wait to take things at your pace.

not to say he isn’t pleased you asked — he is! he’s wanted to know what your kiss tastes like for a while now.

when we see him kiss in game there’s a ferocity behind it. but this time it’s soft, he lets you take the lead with pace.

uses his body to shield you from the rest of the camp so that the moment isn’t too public.

hands softly wrapping around you, bringing you to his broad chest. keeping you safe against him.

he mutters against your lips. “nature truly look its time with you. you are perfect…”

if he says it enough, maybe you’ll believe it’s true.

Dammon

is so immediately thrown he can’t even answer for a moment.

is the heat in his cheeks from the forge or something else…?

manages to find his words after a moment, “oh… yes! hang on, let me…”

cleans his hands, quickly splashes his face with water to remove the soot, turns to you-

“how should I…”

you reach over and gently press your lips to his, surprising him!

but then he wraps his arms around you, tail swishing in such enthusiasm it takes out a row of tools

he’s a bit nervous to start with but gets super into it

wants to do it again and again… if you’ll let him…

(and you do)

Rolan

you ask if you can kiss him.

an immediate “YES”

he’s so excited. there’s a non-zero chance this is his first kiss.

tries to be soft and careful but can’t hold in how happy he is.

teeth clack together a bit, maybe a bit too eager with tongue… but you find yourself smiling into it anyway 💕

again, another tail swisher. can’t keep his emotions hidden from you. doesn’t want to.

he wants to touch you all over but keeps his hands to your waist to make sure you feel comfortable.

when you pull away he’s blushing, muttering “wow…”

he’s left speechless by you.

Zevlor

my man is the most respectful tiefling around.

honoured to be asked to kiss you. I think he takes you somewhere quiet, secluded. doesn’t want people staring.

slowly brings you against his body before pressing his lips to yours.

you feel… protected by his kiss? it’s hard to explain.

you just know he’d protect you.

and the kiss is perfect.

[solbaby7]

Nothing Even Matters

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings: swearing, probably typos, some angst, mentions of trauma, some fluff

summary: When the only thing you want during your recovery is the very person who put you there in the first place.

[ part one ]

—

“How’s it feel?”

“Fuck you,” You seethe through your teeth, words slurred from the wires holding your jaw shut—only for a few days, they said with remorse but all you could feel was such all-consuming rage. Such intense anger because you couldn’t move your body how you wanted; your arm was stiff in the tight bandaging holding it to your body while the dislocation and fractures healed.

Azriel glanced over at Rhysand who was offering Madja a sheepish smile, hands tucked in his pockets as he stood beside you. “Believe it or not, that was a lot nicer than some of the other words she’s been stringing together.”

“She shouldn’t be talking at all. Healing from a broken jaw is no easy feat—talking before the bone properly sets can lead to us needing to rebreak it all over again.” The heated glare you send her way could’ve killed if they were sharpened swords and Azriel has to step in front of you to ease the stormcloud you were casting above the room. Madja doesn’t seem to mind, urging the spymaster to step aside while she began her assessment. “Follow my finger,” Your eyes narrow with hate but you comply after a beat of time. “Good, no noticeable neurological deficits,” She scribbles something in a notepad, noting down the amount of pain meds you’d been receiving and an update of your vitals. “Your swelling seems to have gone down significantly—does it still hurt when I touch here?”

The High Lord cringes at the stream of profanities that slam at the edge of his mind; an act you’d been subconsciously doing since the moment the tonics for the pain had worn off the first time three days ago. You’d shoved your anguish out as far as it would go, so hard Rhysand had choked on a breath, hands clenching at his sides as he put forth more effort than normal to keep his mental shields up. “She says yes.”

Your hand taps once at Azriel’s arm and when he looks at you, you give him a jerky nod of your head. “She wants to know when she can go home?”

Madja lowers the notebook, voice annoyingly calm and full of understanding; not deterred by your attitude in the slightest. In fact, she seems to expect it, smiling softly before speaking, “Have you been eating?”

Your hand slams down twice on the table before you.

It’s jarring; aggression was never something you’d displayed often, if ever, but Azriel only takes a step closer, nearly sitting on the edge of your cot with an arm wrapped around the back of your pillow.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes.” Madja continues writing, bullet pointing your behavior and way you reel in your snark for the shadowsinger beside you. “Have you been able to get to the bathroom on your own?”

Two more slams against the table but these are much harsher than the first, a cup full of water splashing at the sides and Azriel lets out a sigh. “Not on her own but she’s really close. The dizziness just gets to her when she’s standing for too long.”

Rhysand spares a glance at the towering frame standing in the corner behind them absorbing every word like a child experiencing the world for the first time. Cassian had been unbearably quiet, avoiding Azriel at all costs but he was the first who’d noticed you beginning to stir awake. He’d barely left, always getting caught with a rag and warm water, dragging at your skin gentler than fingertips on flower petals. Rhys had to knock Cass out himself when the med staff came to take you away, advising that the wiring was imperative but the General couldn’t stop screaming about how you’d already been through enough; about how you deserved a full day of peace before putting you through even more pain.

“Any other symptoms besides the dizziness?”

You hesitate, heated gaze faltering for a beat of time before you’re slamming your hand down once and Cassian waits a full thirty seconds; golden eyes boring into Azriel’s back, urging him to mention the nausea, the splitting headaches that had you gripping at the first hand you came in contact with for any sort of comfort.

But, Azriel doesn’t say a thing.

“That’s good, what about—“

“Headaches,” Cassian’s voice is raspy with such little use and he’s more than grateful for the brace preventing you from moving around too much because he’s certain one of those sickeningly sharp glares were being specially crafted with his name on it. “She gets headaches and throws up sometimes because of one of the tonics—it’s orange.”

Madja, ever the professional hums in acknowledgment, scribbling down more notes and a furrow grows at her brow. “Could be an allergy or maybe the mixture is too much on your stomach without solid foods yet,” She not even talking to you, just muttering her thoughts aloud while the others tense; awaiting your reaction. They wait for the ball to drop; wait for the throwing of the first item in sight. It wouldn’t have been the first time and Az’s shadows had gotten surprisingly good at predicting it, darkness darting before the window before you could smash it to pieces since Madja insisted she’d dock any damages from your pay. “Thank you, General, that was quite helpful.”

A full minute passes and still, there’s no yelling; no frustrated grunts or shouting in your mind—just utter silence and you’re too busy settling further into your pillow to notice Rhys’ curious stare.

“If you can manage no talking for seventy-two hours then I will clear you to finish your recovery from home,” You’re nodding before she can finish, Azriel gently pushing you back when you try to sit up in your excitement. “I mean it—I’ll know if you aren’t taking the physical therapy seriously. At least an hour of walking a day ; slowly so you don’t aggravate your ribs and I’ll take off the shoulder wrap if you swear not to do any heavy lifting of any kind.” You throw her a pointed look, a hand waving around to motion at the three men that had been permanently stationed around you.

“We’ll take good care of her.”

Madja exhales a steady breath, hands resting at her sides and way she regards you is nearly motherly; relief settling into her features when she can confidently say you’ll make it. “Then, I suppose you’re free to go.”

—

“Come on she said at least an hour.”

Azriel is a sturdy pillar before you, arms crossed and shadows incessantly tug at the thick duvet you’d been grasping at like your life depended on it since he barged in ten minutes ago. You grunt in disapproval, settling deeper into the mattress and you shield your eyes from the bright light steadily pouring through—even though you remembered closing the curtains last night.

“You’ve already skipped breakfast and lunch; it’s nearly three in the afternoon. Get up.”

Your inability to speak seems to work in your favor because all you offer Az in return is a hand peeking from the covers to flip him off.

A pause and one eye pries open when you hear footsteps retreating. Five minutes pass, then five more before you relax back into the fluffy pillows, dragging the covers up to your chin and a content smile curves at the corner of your mouth for a fraction of a second before your entire body is drenched in freezing cold water.

You lurch from the bed like a creature rising from the dead, feet bare and legs on full display when you slowly stare up at the pleased shadowsinger, eyes wide and arms frozen in surprise as you dripped all over the floor like a wet dog. “Good. Since you’re up and showered, let’s go downstairs and get you something to eat.” Azriel’s looping an arm in your own and leading you out before you even have time to change, sloshing footsteps left in your wake and when you enter the sitting room Mor has to slap a hand over her mouth to hide the laughter.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

It’s harmless teasing; friendly laughs and eyes lined with water when they mention the rats nest atop your head but Cassian’s boisterous laugh doesn’t join in on the fun. He takes one look at you and quietly leaves the room; he'd been doing that a lot since the accident—ever so present when you weren't consious and practically non-existent when you were.

You catch Feyre staring at the bruises on your neck, the thick bandage stuck in place on your temple, how stiff your posture was from the tight wrappings securing your ribs in place and she flushes when you offer her a tight-lipped smile, trying to appear more sturdy than you looked. "Sit, I'll get your food."

Eyes roll at Az's choice of words, easing over to the couch with a low grunt. Food was a sorry excuse for whatever the fuck you'd been sentenced to consume until the wires were removed. A thick porridge like substance with a distinct grit that lingered on your tongue no matter how much water you chased it with.

It was nice to be home though, to sleep in your own bed and being able to ease the tension with a hot bath and a stealthily stolen glass of wine—even if it was impossible to wash your hair or to change your clothes without assistance. Fresh air breezes through the windows, ruffling the curtains and the High Lord is quick to dry your clothes with a wave of his hand. With nothing more than a quick touch to his shoulder in thanks, the others watch you brace your weight against things to get to the hallway, turning left in the same direction Cass had gone earlier.

It’s not hard to find him, cooped up in his room with a glass of amber liquid in hand; eyes trained on the crackling fire. “What are you doing in here?” He’s up in a flash, wings pulled tight behind him and a broad shoulder urges your good arm around his neck, warm hands are careful when lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to the neatly made bed against the wall. Pillows are stacked behind your back to prop you up in a way that didn’t agitate your ribs and you give a sad smile when Cassian’s eyes linger on the bruises that were steadily healing up the length of your legs and he’s carefully covering them in blankets with a shaky breath.

Usually, he’d have sat next to you but now you’re unbearably aware of the distance he puts between you; hands clutched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out to touch. “You eat yet?” A slow shake of your head and Cass lets out a little chuckle in understanding. “Not surprised, that shit’s gross. Az never was that good in the kitchen.”

Everything smells like him; male and musk, cedarwood and bourbon. It’s overwhelming in the best way and years of memories begin to flood your senses; countless late nights spent in here drinking and laughing about nothing. Lazy mornings with breakfast in bed and amused snorts over buttered toast and tea when the Illyrian boasted about his latest conquest or earned accomplishments but then would go sheepish when you’d genuinely told him you were proud of him—happy that he seemed happy.

Cassian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to meet your eye because you were gazing at him so lovingly; not an ounce of hate in sight and guilt bubbles in his belly like curdled milk. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make you something.”

A few minutes pass of you examining the room before you notice there’s a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and your brows furrow in worry. You’re grabbing it without second thought, shoving the bottle under the bed frame and out of sight before you hear the thudding footsteps coming down the hall and through the doorway. A goblet of a glass is clutched in one hand with a metal straw hanging over the rim; he rambles off some of the fruits he used while he walks over, gently settling it in your hands. Fingers graze and in the blink of an eye he’s already taken three steps worth of space between you but the berry smoothie is a significant upgrade from Azriel’s porridge mixture—little wins. This was sweet but not too sweet, thick enough to quell the rumbling in your stomach and thin enough to push through the gaps in the wires with ease. It’s half gone quicker than you care to admit but Cass seems pleased, yet the small smile he wears is quickly wiped off when you motion for him to sit next to you.

“I can’t.”

Brows scrunch together in silent question, head tilting to the side.

His face crumples, features lined with stress and it’s then you notice just how broken he appears—sure, maybe he didn’t have the bandages and wrappings but the damage was still there. “Look at you, peach,” Tears well at the pet name, your head lowering as if it could possibly hide the ugly bruising on your neck; it was the only spot that seemed to be taking forever to get better, a kaleidoscope of purples and deep blues. “Look what I’ve done to you,” Breath catches and you ache to comfort him when he doesn’t even bother to hold his wings off the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only moves closer when you set the cup down and make way to stand; it’s then he sits near you, urging you back down and you see the way his throat bobs with the thick swallow when your hand gently rests over his own. Words aren’t needed to express how much you didn’t blame him; not anymore—not after the nights he’d spent hunched over your bedside spewing out confessions of his feelings. The unconditional love that never stopping pouring over when it came to you and the shameful jealousy that had followed. Secrets he’d kept in fear that you didn’t return the same affections; terrified to ruin the carefully crafted friendship that took centuries to perfect. To become an extension of the other and adding his feelings seemed messy—too complicated and then all of this. You and the sounds of your cries for help permanently branded at the forefront of his mind for all eternity. Waiting in anticipation for Madja’s updates on your health, how you were fairing and if there was any lasting brain damage; a burden he was fully prepared to bare for you. Willing to sit by your side with his fingers kneeding through your hair to soothe away the headache he knew was coming in from the scrunch of your nose even after being pumped full of pain relievers.

It seems fitting that you can’t voice what you know; the pieces that you’d held onto while stuck in your mind. Body too numb to even pry your eyes open but the hope of hearing it while conscious was a strong enough anchor to have you clawing to the surface—back to Cass and those lazy mornings and tea with entirely too much honey.

He’s a mess when you pull him in closer, brushing your fingers through his hair the same way he’d done for you. You can feel the feather light kisses he presses to the exposed injuries, silent tears dripping on your skin, hushed whispers of his apologies, all the ways he’d planned to do in order make it up to you. All the things he should’ve and would’ve and could’ve done and you have to pry his face from the crease of your neck to make him look you in the eye.

There are no words but the intensity of your stare says plenty and he’s right back where he started; wanting things he shouldn’t and falling back into selfish habits. Leaning into the warmth of your mouth slotting over his own and every bruise and broken bone doesn’t even matter when he’s finally kissing you—soft and tender but all too quick and he’s pulling away before you can memorize the feel of him. “You’re perfect,” Cassian whispers, forehead pressed against your own, hands keeping you close. “I don’t deserve you for a second.”

But you only kiss him again because in that moment nothing else mattered.

[romanticatheartt]

I die for these soft, domestic moments...

I laughed in earnest, and squeezed his face as I pressed a swift kiss to his mouth. “Shameless flirt.” The warmth returned to his eyes at last. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ I kissed his bare neck, and he reached back to drag a finger down my cheek. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Rhys came over and handed me a hairpin. We worked in unison, pinning my hair into place. Rhys pinned a hard-to-reach section of my hair. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ He leaned down, nuzzling my throat. “Don’t you want to comfort your mate, who has missed you terribly these weeks?” I planted a hand on his face and pushed him back, scowling. “I want my mate to tell me where the hell he was. Then he can get his comfort.” Rhys nipped at my fingers, teeth snapping playfully. “Cruel, beautiful female.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there—and exhaustion. The face he never let anyone see. I pushed up onto my knees and kissed his cheek, his skin warm and soft beneath my mouth. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ So I wrote back, At least you make up for your shameless flirting by being one hell of a High Lord. He’d returned that evening, smirking like a cat, and had merely said “One hell of a High Lord?” by way of greeting. I’d sent a bucket’s worth of water splashing into his face. Rhys hadn’t bothered to shield against it. And instead shook his wet hair like a dog, spraying me until I yelped and darted away. His laughter had chased me up the stairs. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ A half smile that had me walking toward him, stopping between his legs. He braced his hands idly on my hips. He rested his brow against my chest, right between my breasts, and wrapped his arms around my waist. For a long minute, he only breathed in the scent of me, as if taking it deep into his lungs. ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ “You look exhausted, that’s why.” He put a dramatic hand over his heart. “Your concern warms me more than any winter fire, my love.” I rolled my eyes and sat up. “Did you at least eat?” He shrugged, his dark shirt straining across his broad shoulders. “I’m fine.” His gaze slid over my bare legs as I pushed back the covers. Heat bloomed in me, but I shoved my feet into slippers. “I’ll get you food.” “I don’t want—” “When did you last eat?” A sullen silence. “I thought so.” I hauled a fleece-lined robe around my shoulders... “You don’t need to—” “I want to, and I’m going to.”... “Did you eat at all today?” “I had an apple this morning.” “Rhys.” He set down his fork, his mouth twitching toward a smile. “Feyre.” I crossed my arms. “No one is too busy to eat.” “You’re fussing.” “It’s my job to fuss. And besides, you fuss plenty. Over far more trivial things.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ “You look beautiful tonight.” His words were low, rough. I stroked a hand down the lap of my gown, the fabric shimmering beneath my fingers. “You say that every night.” “And mean it.” ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my face up. That wicked smile grew, and my toes curled in their boots. “There’s my darling Feyre.”

[emacrow]

Commander Johnson, I-I think I found what or who been stealing our extra spare material supplies

Astronaut Jennifer said in the com as she stared, standing stiff as a board if it weren't for the gravity of Mars making it difficult.

What she was staring at couldn't be human but yet so close and eldritchic- alien like as the inner part of her mind was screaming danger danger, That Is Not A Human Being, Run RUN RUN,HIDENOWHIDENOWNOWNOW

It's look like a adult, a very slim and very tall adult if it weren't for the fact that his skin was tanned with a bit of splash of starlights all over, wearing a suit made of galaxies covered in red Mars rocks, his hair was white, whiter then the clouds on earth, ears pointy and curled a bit as if it wa to shield or reflect to what its was hearing(but they has moved back in a aggressive manner thar remind her of snuffles when threaten) and eyes glows so ominously Neon Green with black instead of white surrounding the iris, splatter of star like freckles that looks like he almost has two pupils mixing into a slits like in each of them.

Teeths razor sharp and thick, as the thing looks like it was growling at her with his body arch over, hands with extra digits of long blacken claws like nails dig into the dirt, hiding all the stuff that the alien had stolen along with a lil head of another mar baby, it weren't for the fact there was no sounds in space, she would've been screaming float running back to her headquarters base.

She was only patrolling the part of the base where they were trying to grow plants in one of the green houses they painstaking made on Mar, but then she saw the glow of unnatural green slipping out of the sealed tight glass.

Curiosity took the best of her as she put on her suit and went to check at that spot is where she find what seem to be a native Mar creature and its baby hoarding all the missing stuffs that they had lost in the base, along with the missing robot, opportunity as the top of it's hoard pile in a makeshift hole(it's a Nest and she has enter this creatures domains) near a small pool full of of oddly frozen water that glowed luminous.

It was a stand off between her and the creature not moving an inch until Jennifer's coms responded back as she flinched, her heart dropping snd face paling dramatically when the creature's ear flick a bit as it heard the static electric device.

"J-J-J-Jennifer, do you copy? I repeat, Do you copy?!?" Commander Johnson spoke a bit frantic.

Unawared of the danger he had put Jennifer in when she flinched, the creature lunged, Jennifer scrambling to turn around and hop/run back into the safety of the base as fast as she could.

Like inspiration for @tinycoded360

[natalievoncatte]

She had it. She actually had it, in her hands.

Myriad. The ultimate weapon of a dying race, brought to Earth to subjugate its people and rebuild an empire from a shattered world, possibly the key to saving this one. The key Lena needed to unlock Non Nocere and

(take over)

heal the world. End all strife. Eradicate all conflict. No more pain. No more deceit. No more greed, or cruelty, a world without malice, a peace without end.

No more lies.

It was in her hands, such a small petty little thing, barely more than a trinket.

Lena dropped it too sharply on the stainless steel lab table, took three steps, and vomited, the contents of her stomach noisily splashing at her feet. It was the effects of portal travel, she told herself- like jumping from a great height and into cold water at the same time.

(oh god what did I do)

She just needed a few moments to steady herself, collect her bearings, clean up.

(oh god oh god I hurt her what have I done)

Then, she could begin her work immediately. She shrugged out of her coat and found a bottle of vodka, hardly her weapon of choice, and took a pull straight from it to wash the

(pain away)

sour taste of her own puke out of her mouth and dull the sour churning in her stomach, because she couldn’t get the image out of her head, the image of Kara lying broken on the fortress floor with green lines of agony carved in her flawless skin and the most heartbroken look of remorse and fear in her eyes.

(Lena don’t do this)

(please don’t do this I’m SORRY)

Snatching the Myriad core from the lab table, she went to shove it into place. The final work would take only a few hours and then…

Lena stopped. Her hand hovered inches above her work. All she had to do was make the connection, but something was stopping her, as if her own arm revelled against her. She tasted puke and alcohol in her mouth and she was crying, hot tears burning down her cheeks in razor lines.

(Lena please)

No more lies.

It was heavy in her hand, the alien device suspiciously heavy and cool to her touch. Why didn’t she just do it? She was here, key in hand, ready to open the door and she couldn’t do it. Why?

Gritting her teeth, Lena took it in both hands, staring at it.

This was good. This was right. Lena had given Kara everything. Everything! Her friendship, her support, her comfort, her secret council. She killed her own brother for her and what did she get in return? Lies! Deception!

(soft hugs and kind words and powerful arms shielding her from harm and strong hands… holding her)

It had all meant nothing. It was all a lie.

Right?

It was, wasn’t it? It was! It had to be, she needed it to be! If it wasn’t, if she was wrong, then she betrayed and tortured the only person who cared about her for what? For this fucking thing?

Lena held Myriad over her head. She hadn’t even been aware she’d raised it high, ready to smash it to the ground. Bringing it down, she stared at the device and saw a stranger’s face, a distorted visage of a pale, stress-thinned woman with red-rimmed eyes.

Oh God.

The watch! There was still time. It still had the coordinates.

Lena’s hand hovered over the watch. She could push the button and erase the only way she’d ever reach the fortress again, and it would be decided. She’d make it permanent, make it real. She could finalize the destruction of the most important relationship she’d ever had. Deny Kara. Give her up.

(leave her locked in a cage of agony)

Lena pressed the button.

The portal opened behind her with a gust of wind.

She stepped through.

The first thing that hit her was the cold. She didn’t think to put her coat back on.

The second thing was a right hook from Alex Danvers that sent Lena sprawling across the floor and Myriad spinning out of her grip.

“You bitch,” Alex snarled. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. I should have put a bullet in the back of your head the first time you set foot in my town.”

Alex stood over her, boiling with fury.

“I knew it was all a lie. I knew! I know what you did. You and your little lip bites and your flirty looks and your coffee dates. Was breaking my little sister’s heart part of the plan or just a sadistic bonus?”

For once in her life, Lena was truly speechless. She stared up at her attacker, absently touching the trickle of blood from her split lip.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t,”

“You fucking did,” Alex hissed. “How dare you come back here? Didn’t you steal enough? Was the rest of the armory too much temptation for you?”

“I couldn’t leave her,” Lena choked out.

“Alex,” a harsh voice rasped, “that’s enough.”

Kara was on her feet, clutching her side. The Kryptonite had left her pale and pallid and hunched over a little, her normally bright eyes dull.

Lena pushed herself to her feet, wobbled, and started for Kara.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex stepped between them.

“I said that’s enough,” said Kara, pushing past her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena blurted. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Kara I…”

“Shhh,” Kara whispered. “It’s okay.”

Lena’s hands seemed to move on their own, palms cupping Kara’s cheeks. God, she was cold. She was shivering. Kara was shivering. She leaned into Lena’s grasp, falling against her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Kara said, gathering Lena in her arms.

“The hell it is,” Alex cut in. “Jesus Christ, she robbed the Fortress of Solitude! She hurt you, Kara!”

“I hurt her first.”

“Kara, she’s right.”

Kara shook her head.

“You can’t just forgive her!” Alex almost screamed.

Kara looked at Alex, then at Lena.

“You’re forgetting. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

The tears began to flow and Lena couldn’t stop them. She collapsed into Kara’s arms and sobbed, her body shaking with exertion.

Alex bent down and picked up Myriad.

“Give me that,” said Kara.

Alex looked at her quizzically, and placed the device in Kara’s hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked down at Lena.

“Do it,” Lena whispered.

Without the slightest appearance of effort, Kara closed her hand and the device exploded between her fingers, circuits and alien technology clattering to the floor.

“Let’s go home,” said Kara. “I think we need to talk.”

[dexteri0us]

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 8✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, angst, fluff

Word Count: 7586

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

The afternoon sun was warm, casting a golden glow over the lake as you and Jody’s girls, Claire and Alex, lounged on the soft grass near the shore. The atmosphere was peaceful, with the sounds of birds chirping and the occasional splash of water breaking the silence. Sam and Jody were a little ways off, tending to the grill, while Dean lay beside you, seemingly asleep with his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight.

You were enjoying the tranquility, letting yourself relax. The gentle breeze coming off the lake was soothing, and the smell of the grill in the distance made your stomach rumble in anticipation of the meal to come.

Claire, who had been lying on her back staring up at the sky, suddenly rolled onto her side to face you. She glanced over at Dean, who remained still, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Satisfied that he wasn’t listening, she nudged you lightly with her elbow, a mischievous grin on her face.

“So”, Claire began, her tone conspiratorial, “Jody mentioned something about a guy named Jake. Care to share?”.

You felt your cheeks flush almost instantly at Claire’s question, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Despite all the tough fronts you’d put up in the past, the topic of Jake had a way of breaking through that exterior. It wasn’t something you were used to—being vulnerable, especially not in front of the girls. But here you were, blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush, and it was impossible to hide.

“Uh, yeah”, you mumbled, trying to brush it off casually. “We’ve gone on a couple of dates. He’s nice”.

Claire’s grin widened, clearly enjoying this more than she should. “Just nice? Come on, you’re blushing! There’s gotta be more to it than just ‘nice'”.

Again, you tried to play it cool, shrugging your shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could feel the heat in your cheeks giving you away. “Okay, maybe he’s more than just nice”, you admitted, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “He’s… really sweet, actually. And funny. We’ve only been out a few times, but I like him”.

Claire’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. “Oh, I knew it! You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”.

You laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… taking it slow. We’re still getting to know each other”.

“Taking it slow, huh?”, Claire teased, winking at you.

Claire's grin only widened, clearly enjoying the way you were squirming under her teasing. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, though it was still loud enough for Dean to hear every word, not that she knew that. "So", she began, her tone dripping with playful curiosity, "have you guys… you know, gone down on each other yet?".

Your eyes widened in shock, and your face turned a deep shade of crimson. "Claire!", you exclaimed, barely able to keep your voice down. The question caught you completely off guard, and the embarrassment was almost overwhelming. You couldn’t believe she had just asked that, and in such a casual tone too.

Claire laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "What? It's a valid question!", she teased, nudging you again. "Come on, you can't tell me you haven’t thought about it".

You were at a complete loss for words, your thoughts spinning as you tried to figure out how to respond. You hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a turn, and now your mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts that you really didn’t want to be thinking about while lying here next to Dean, even if he seemed to be asleep.

Meanwhile, Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest, his mind reeling from what he had just overheard. Claire’s question had hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness that he struggled to keep in check. The idea of you being that intimate with someone else, of sharing moments like that with Jake, made something primal stir inside him.

He forced himself to stay still, to keep his breathing steady, but it was difficult when his thoughts were running wild. He knew he had no right to feel this way, no right to be upset over something that was entirely your business, but that didn’t make it any easier. The feelings he had for you were a constant battle, one that he was losing more and more each day.

You, still flustered, managed to shake your head, trying to downplay the whole thing. “No, nothing like that”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “We’re just… taking it slow, like I said”.

Claire raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Well, good for you”, she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Most guys aren’t exactly known for their patience”.

You just shrugged, still feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Jake’s different”, you replied softly, more to yourself than to Claire. “He’s not pushing for anything. It’s nice”.

Dean’s grip on his self-control tightened. He knew he couldn’t react, couldn’t give away that he was listening to every word, but the combination of your soft tone and the content of your conversation was tearing him apart inside. He had always known you deserved someone who would treat you right, someone who wouldn’t rush you or make you feel pressured. And as much as he hated to admit it, Jake sounded like he was that guy.

Claire gave you a knowing look, clearly satisfied with the information she’d gotten out of you. “Well, just make sure you’re doing what makes you happy”, she said with a wink. “And if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me”.

You nodded, grateful for her support, even if her teasing had been a little too much for you to handle. “Thanks, Claire”, you murmured, your mind still racing with everything you’d just confessed.

Dean lay there, his heart still pounding, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. He knew he needed to keep it together, to keep pretending he hadn’t heard a thing.

But deep down, despite the turmoil swirling in his mind, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief—a small, selfish comfort in knowing that you were still a virgin, that you hadn’t crossed that particular line with Jake. It was a complicated, messy feeling, one he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone explore. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, mingling with the guilt and the jealousy that had become his constant companions.

He knew it wasn’t right to feel this way. You were your own person, capable of making your own decisions, and you deserved to explore those parts of life on your terms. But the idea of you sharing something so intimate, so special, with someone else made his chest tighten. It was a possessive instinct that he didn’t like admitting to himself. Yet, as much as he tried to suppress it, the feeling was undeniable.

Dean remained perfectly still, feigning sleep as he continued to listen to the conversation between you and Claire. He knew it was wrong, that he should stop eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help himself. Every word you said gave him more insight into where your head was at, and even though it made him feel things he’d rather not feel, he couldn’t turn away from it.

You, on the other hand, were still trying to navigate the complicated emotions brought on by Claire’s teasing. The conversation had dredged up feelings you hadn’t fully processed, feelings about Jake, about Dean, about everything that had been happening lately. It was hard to make sense of it all, especially with Dean lying right there, so close yet so far away.

Part of you wanted to talk to him, to open up about the confusion and the tension that had been building between you. But another part of you was terrified of what that conversation might lead to. Dean was such a significant part of your life, and the idea of risking that connection, of possibly ruining it, was too much to bear.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind a smile as you continued to chat with Claire. You didn’t notice the way Dean’s jaw clenched slightly, the way his breathing hitched just a little when the conversation turned to more innocent topics. To you, he was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that you were experiencing.

As the evening approached and the sky began to darken, the excitement in the air was palpable. You have decided to celebrate into your birthday. And even though the emotions of the past few days were still lingering in the back of your mind, you were determined to have a good time and enjoy the night.

It was now 10 PM, and you were in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed as Alex sat across from you, carefully working on your makeup. She had insisted on taking charge of getting you ready, declaring that you needed to look “absolutely stunning” for your birthday celebration. Claire, on the other hand, was leaning against the window frame, her arms crossed as she looked outside where Dean was grumbling about some bird having the audacity to leave a mess on his beloved Impala.

“Hold still”, Alex muttered as she carefully applied mascara to your lashes. “You’re going to be the center of attention tonight, and we’re not letting you go out there looking anything less than perfect”.

You chuckled, though you tried to stay as still as possible. “I appreciate the effort, Alex. I’m sure whatever you do will be great”.

Alex grinned, leaning back to admire her work before reaching for another makeup brush. “Trust me, you’re going to look amazing. And you’ll thank me when all the attention is on you tonight”.

Claire snorted softly, still looking out the window. “Looks like Dean’s having a rough time out there. He’s been complaining about that bird crap for the past ten minutes”.

You glanced toward the window, feeling a small pang of affection for Dean. Despite everything, there was something endearing about the way he fussed over his car. It was such a Dean thing to do.

“Well, it’s his baby”, you said with a smile, trying to keep the mood light. “Can’t have anything messing with his precious Impala”.

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Yeah, well, he’d better finish up soon if he’s planning on joining us tonight. Don’t want him to miss out on the fun”.

You nodded, your thoughts drifting back to the night ahead. Part of you was nervous, wondering how the evening would go, especially with everything that had been building up between you and Dean. But another part of you was excited—excited to celebrate, to let loose, and maybe even to see where the night would take you.

“Alright, done!”, Alex announced, snapping you back to the present. She stepped back, a satisfied grin on her face as she looked at you. “Go check yourself out in the mirror. I think you’ll like it”.

You stood up and walked over to the mirror, your breath catching slightly as you took in your reflection. Alex had done an incredible job—your makeup was flawless, enhancing your features without being overdone. You looked… beautiful, more so than you had expected. The sight of yourself made you feel more confident, more ready to take on whatever the night had in store.

“Wow”, you murmured, turning back to Alex with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Alex. I love it”.

Alex beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Told you. Now, let’s get you dressed and ready to party!”.

Claire finally turned away from the window, her own excitement shining through. “Yeah, come on. We’ve got to make sure you’re dressed to kill”.

After a few minutes of final touches and last-minute adjustments, you, Alex, and Claire were finally ready to head downstairs. The energy in the room was electric, with Claire and Alex fussing over every detail, making sure you looked perfect for your big night. Your nerves were still fluttering, but there was a sense of excitement building inside you.

As the three of you made your way down the hallway, you could hear the familiar voices of Jody and Sam drifting up from the bottom of the stairs. They were clearly eager to get the celebration started, and Jody’s voice carried a playful tone of impatience.

“Where the hell are you three?!”, Jody called up, her voice filled with mock frustration. “We’re ready to go down here, and you’re taking forever!”.

Sam’s deep chuckle followed. “Come on, ladies! The night’s not getting any younger!”.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you glanced down to see Jody and Sam standing at the base, both dressed casually but clearly ready to have a good time. Jody had her hands on her hips, her smile wide and teasing as she looked up at you.

But what caught your attention most was Dean, leaning casually against the doorframe of the living room, a bottle of beer in his hand. His usual confident demeanor was on full display, though you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you as you descended the stairs. The sunglasses he had been wearing earlier were gone, revealing the intense green of his gaze that seemed to follow your every move.

For a moment, you felt your breath catch in your throat. The way Dean was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You could see a flicker of something in Dean’s eyes—admiration, perhaps even a hint of surprise—but he masked it quickly with a smirk, taking another sip of his beer as if to play it cool.

“Well”, Dean drawled, his voice smooth, carrying just the right amount of teasing to make you smile. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence”.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness at his attention. “I had to make sure I looked good enough for the birthday celebration”, you teased, your tone light.

Dean’s smirk softened into something warmer, something almost affectionate. “You don’t have to try that hard”, he said, his voice a little lower, more sincere. “You already look great”.

The compliment caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. Before you could respond, Jody clapped her hands together, breaking the moment.

“Alright, party people!”, she declared, her voice full of energy. “Let’s get moving before it gets too late. We’ve got a birthday to celebrate!”.

The group began to move toward the door, with Sam and Jody leading the way. Claire and Alex fell into step behind them, chattering excitedly about the night ahead. As you followed, Dean stayed close by your side, his presence a steady comfort amidst the buzz of anticipation.

The cool evening air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the sky was painted in deep shades of twilight. The stars were just beginning to peek through, promising a beautiful night. The lakehouse had a cozy, rustic charm that made it the perfect place for a celebration, and as you all made your way down to the lake, you could feel the excitement building.

As the group made their way around the lake, the soft glow of lanterns strung along the path provided just enough light to guide your steps. The sound of the water gently lapping against the shore added to the serene atmosphere, making the walk feel almost magical. The conversation among your friends was lively, filled with laughter and playful banter, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit distracted, your thoughts constantly drifting back to the way Dean had looked at you earlier.

Dean walked beside you, his usual walk slightly tempered by the five beers he’d already downed throughout the evening. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but there was a hint of something in his demeanor—something almost vulnerable, though he was doing his best to mask it. His steps were steady, but his gaze occasionally flickered to you, as if he was trying to find the right moment to say something.

The lake bar was just coming into view when Dean finally broke the silence between you. He cleared his throat, and you glanced over at him just in time to see him rub the back of his neck—a telltale sign that he was nervous, or at least a little unsure of himself.

“You look great”, he said, his voice lower than usual, and there was an unmistakable sincerity in his tone that made your heart skip a beat. You could tell he meant it, and the fact that he was flustered only made the compliment feel more genuine.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Dean”, you replied softly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light.

Just as you felt the warmth of Dean’s words sink in, the group reached the entrance of the lake bar. The sound of music and chatter spilled out from inside, a lively backdrop to the evening’s celebration. Claire, always quick to spot the best spot in any place, was already waving everyone over to a cozy booth near the back of the bar. The booth was tucked away slightly, offering a bit of privacy while still keeping you in the midst of the action.

“Over here!”, Claire called out, her enthusiasm contagious as she motioned for everyone to join her. The group eagerly followed her lead, sliding into the booth with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the night ahead.

As you and Dean approached the booth, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step, as if he was reluctant to let go of the moment you’d just shared. But with the group now gathering around, the chance for further conversation was quickly slipping away.

You slid into the booth, taking a seat near the end where you had a clear view of the bar and the rest of the room. Dean sat down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he got comfortable. The brief contact sent a shiver down your spine.

Jody and Sam were the last to join, Sam carrying a tray of drinks he had grabbed from the bar on the way over. He set it down with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alright, who’s ready to kick off this birthday celebration?”.

The table erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses as everyone grabbed a drink.

As the glasses clinked together in celebration, Sam leaned in toward you, his grin wide and playful. “Today’s an exception”, he said with a wink, nodding toward the drink in your hand. “You’re not quite 21 yet, but I think we can bend the rules just this once”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Sam’s playful tone. “You’re such a rebel”, you teased, raising your glass in acknowledgment. The warmth of the alcohol was a welcome addition to the already buzzing atmosphere, and you were grateful for the way everyone had come together to make this night special for you.

Jody raised her glass again, her eyes twinkling as she glanced around the table. “Here’s to bending the rules and making the most of the night. Happy early birthday, (Y/N)!”.

Everyone echoed the toast, and you felt a surge of happiness as you took a sip of your drink. The music from the bar pulsed in the background, a mix of classic rock and upbeat tunes that added to the lively energy of the place. You leaned back against the booth, feeling the pleasant buzz from the alcohol and the warmth of your friends around you.

Dean, sitting beside you, took a long drink from his beer, his eyes glancing over at you every so often. You could sense he was more relaxed now, the tension from earlier having faded into the background as the night unfolded. There was a comfortable closeness between you, the kind that had been growing for a while now, even if neither of you had fully acknowledged it.

After a few rounds of drinks, the conversation at the table became more animated, with laughter and stories flowing freely. Claire and Alex were sharing funny anecdotes from recent hunts, while Sam and Jody added their own tales, making everyone at the table burst into laughter. You felt a deep sense of belonging in that moment, surrounded by people who truly cared about you.

As the night went on, the bar became more crowded, and the music grew louder. Claire and Alex, now tipsy and full of energy, insisted on dragging you onto the dance floor. You protested half-heartedly, but their enthusiasm was infectious, and soon you found yourself in the middle of the crowd, moving to the rhythm of the music.

Dean watched you from the booth, a small smile playing on his lips as he observed you laughing and dancing with the girls. He felt a mix of emotions—pride, protectiveness, and something deeper. The sight of you, so full of life and joy, was both heartwarming and a little bittersweet, knowing that things between you were shifting in ways he couldn’t fully control.

Dean was still nursing his beer, his eyes occasionally drifting from the crowd of dancers back to you as you moved on the dance floor with Claire and Alex. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, but it wasn’t easy. Watching you laugh and dance, seeing how much you’d grown up—it was a lot for him to process.

Just then, Sam slid into the booth next to Dean, a knowing smile on his face. He nudged Dean with his elbow, drawing his brother’s attention away from the dance floor. Jody had gone to grab another round of drinks, leaving the two of them alone at the table for a moment.

“So”, Sam started, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness underneath, “you finally coming to terms with (Y/N) being an adult now?”.

Dean shot his brother a sidelong glance, recognizing the question for what it was. He knew Sam had noticed the shift in his behavior around you, the way he’d been more protective, more cautious, ever since you’d started spending time with Jake. But this was the first time Sam had directly brought it up.

Dean sighed, taking a long sip of his beer before answering. “It’s not easy, man”, he admitted, his voice low enough that only Sam could hear. “I’ve watched her grow up, you know? She’s not a kid anymore, and I get that, but… it’s hard to see her differently”.

Sam nodded, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get it. It’s tough letting go of the way you’ve always seen someone, especially when you’ve been like a big brother to her”.

Dean nodded, but the truth was, it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just about being a big brother, or the protective instinct that had always driven him to keep you safe. It was something more.

“Do you think she’s ready?”, Dean asked, glancing back at Sam. “For all of it—being on her own, making her own choices?”.

Sam smiled slightly. “She’s tougher than you think, Dean. And yeah, I think she’s ready. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need you. Just… maybe in a different way now”.

Dean sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… I want her to be happy, but I also want to make sure she’s safe. It’s hard to balance that”.

Sam gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ve always been there for her, Dean. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, in whatever way she needs. That’s all you can do”.

Dean nodded, his eyes drifting back to you as you continued to dance, your laughter echoing across the bar. “Yeah”, he murmured, more to himself than to Sam. “I guess you’re right”.

Sam watched his brother for a moment longer, sensing the conflict still brewing within him, but deciding not to push further. He knew Dean would come to terms with it in his own time, in his own way. For now, it was enough that Dean was acknowledging the change, even if he wasn’t fully ready to accept it.

Jody returned to the table with another round of drinks, her timing impeccable as always. She handed Dean a fresh beer and gave Sam a curious look, clearly sensing the seriousness of their conversation.

“Everything okay over here?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow as she slid back into the booth.

Dean forced a smile, accepting the beer with a nod. “Yeah, just talking about how much trouble we’re all gonna be in if (Y/N) keeps drinking like that”, he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Jody chuckled, her gaze drifting to you on the dance floor. “She’s having a good time. That’s what tonight’s about, right?”.

Dean’s smile softened as he watched you laugh and dance with your friends. “Yeah”, he agreed, lifting his beer in a quiet toast. “That’s what it’s all about”.

As the clock struck midnight, everyone in the bar raised their glasses in a boisterous toast to you. The atmosphere was electric with laughter, cheers, and the clinking of glasses. Dean was especially laid-back, the alcohol loosening him up as he joined in the celebration with a genuine smile. The weight of the past few weeks seemed to lift off his shoulders, if only temporarily. Despite the attention from a few women who seemed interested in him throughout the night, Dean politely declined their advances, his focus remaining on the celebration and, more subtly, on you.

The night continued with more drinks, more dancing, and more laughter. But around 1 AM, you decided to step away for a moment and head to the bathroom. The bar was still buzzing with energy, but you needed a brief break from the noise and excitement. As you reached for your phone to check the time, you noticed a notification from Jake. Smiling to yourself, you assumed he was wishing you a happy birthday. But as you opened the message, the smile quickly faded.

Jake’s message wasn’t what you had expected. Instead of birthday wishes, it was a carefully worded explanation that he had gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend. He was gentle in his words, expressing his apologies and hoping you could understand. But no matter how softly he tried to put it, the news hit you hard. The excitement and joy of the night evaporated in an instant, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest.

You stood there in the bathroom, staring at the message as the reality of it sank in. You had liked Jake, had started to imagine what could have been, and now it was over before it had even really begun. The rejection, even though it was handled kindly, still hurt. It made you feel foolish for getting your hopes up, for thinking that maybe this time, things could work out.

Suddenly, the thought of going back to the party, of pretending to be happy and carefree, felt impossible. The celebration that had seemed so fun just moments ago now felt overwhelming and hollow. You didn’t want to go back out there with this weight in your heart, didn’t want to face everyone with this new pain fresh in your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears that had been threatening to fall finally broke through. You quickly wiped them away, not wanting to smudge your makeup or let anyone see how upset you were. But no matter how hard you tried to push it down, the sadness lingered.

After a few moments of trying to collect yourself, you knew you couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. But the idea of going back out there, of pretending everything was fine, was too much. You needed space, needed to be alone for a little while to process what had just happened.

As you made your way back outside, the alcohol still buzzed in your system, but it did little to dull the sharp sting of Jake’s message. The noise and energy of the bar seemed distant, like you were moving through a fog. All you could think about was getting out of there, away from the crowd, and finding some place quiet where you could process what had just happened.

Dean had been keeping an eye on you throughout the night, more out of habit than anything else. But the moment you reappeared, he could tell something was wrong. Even from across the room, he noticed the way your shoulders slumped, the tightness in your smile that didn’t reach your eyes. The easygoing, celebratory mood he’d been in vanished instantly, replaced by a familiar concern.

He got up from his seat without hesitation, weaving through the crowd until he reached you. The closer he got, the more certain he became that something was off. He thought maybe the alcohol had hit you too hard or that you were feeling sick.

“Hey”, he said gently, his hand resting on your arm as he looked into your eyes, searching for answers. “You alright? You don’t look so good. Do you need some fresh air, or…?”.

You forced a tight smile, trying to hold it together. “I’m just tired”, you replied, your voice not quite steady. “I think I want to go home, but the rest of you should stay here and have fun”.

Dean frowned, not convinced. He knew you better than that. There was more going on—he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice—but he also knew better than to push you when you weren’t ready to talk. He nodded, understanding that you needed to get out of there, even if you weren’t ready to explain why.

“Alright”, he said softly. “I’ll walk you back. Let’s get you home”.

You started to protest, telling him that he didn’t need to leave the party, that he should stay and enjoy himself. But Dean shook his head, his decision already made. “No way I’m letting you walk back alone. Besides, I’m ready to call it a night too”.

He guided you back to the booth where the others were still laughing and talking, their attention focused on each other and not noticing the shift in your mood. Dean gave them a quick nod, signaling that he was taking you home.

“I’m gonna bring her back to the lake house”, Dean said, his tone casual but firm. “You guys stay and have fun. We’ll catch up with you later”.

Jody looked over, noticing the change in your demeanor, but she didn’t ask any questions. She trusted Dean to take care of you. Sam raised his glass in a small salute, and Claire and Alex gave you encouraging smiles, wishing you a good night.

You appreciated their understanding, but all you wanted was to be out of the bar, away from the noise and the reminders of what had just happened.

Dean kept a steady hand on your back as the two of you made your way out of the bar and into the cool night air. The walk back to the lake house was quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t push you to talk, but his presence was a comfort, a steady anchor as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

When you reached the house, Dean unlocked the door and led you inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your chest. You were grateful for the silence, for the space to breathe without the weight of the party pressing down on you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, Dean finally asked, his voice low.

You shook your head at Dean’s question, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Instead, you slipped out of your shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen, where you knew Dean’s stash of whiskey was kept on the counter. The alcohol you’d already had was making you feel a little unsteady, but you were still too sober for the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. You needed something stronger to dull the ache in your chest, something to push away the thoughts of Jake and what could have been.

But just as your fingers wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle, Dean was there. He had followed you, his concern growing with every step, and when he saw what you were about to do, he quickly snatched the bottle from your hand.

“No fucking way”, he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of worry and determination. “You’re already tipsy, and this isn’t the way to handle whatever’s going on”.

You glared at him, your emotions bubbling over. “Dean, come on. Just one drink. Join me. It’s my birthday, and I just… I just need this right now”.

Dean softened slightly at your words but didn’t relent. He could see how much you were hurting, and the last thing he wanted was for you to drown your pain in alcohol. He knew how that path could go, and he wasn’t about to let you spiral down it.

He shook his head again, more gently this time. “You don’t need this, (Y/N). Not like this. Let’s talk, or if you don’t want to talk, let’s just… be here, okay? But no more drinking tonight”.

You could feel the tears welling up again, the mix of frustration, sadness, and the tenderness in Dean’s voice almost too much to bear. “I don’t want to talk about it”, you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Dean set the bottle down on the counter, stepping closer to you. He reached out, his hands resting on your shoulders, grounding you in the moment. “Alright”, he said quietly, his voice soothing. “Then we won’t talk about it. But I’m not letting you do this alone. Let’s go sit down, okay?”.

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but the warmth of his hands on your shoulders and the quiet strength in his voice made it impossible. You nodded, letting out a shaky breath as he guided you to the living room.

Dean sat down next to you on the couch, close but not crowding you, offering silent support. The house was quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves outside, and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather a space where you could both exist without the need for words.

You leaned back against the couch, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion of the day and the emotions of the night wash over you. Dean remained by your side, a steady presence that gave you comfort even when your thoughts were stormy.

Minutes passed, the two of you sitting there in silence, and slowly, you began to feel a little more at ease.

As you leaned back against the couch, the weight of the night seemed to press down on you all at once. The quiet of the house, combined with the steady warmth of Dean’s presence beside you, started to lull you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt all night. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, you just focused on the sound of Dean’s breathing next to you, the rhythm of it steady and reassuring.

Dean watched you, his concern deepening as he saw the exhaustion etched into your features. He could tell you were fighting to stay awake, to hold onto whatever it was that was eating at you, but he also knew that you were reaching your limit. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push for you to talk, just remained close, offering the comfort of his presence.

As the minutes passed, the tension in your body began to ease, your breathing slowing as you finally allowed yourself to relax. Before you even realized it, the exhaustion won out, and you drifted off to sleep right there on the couch.

Dean noticed the exact moment you fell asleep—the way your body went completely slack, your breathing deepening into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. He stayed still, not wanting to disturb you, but his eyes remained on your face, softening as he watched the tension slowly melt away from your features.

For a long while, he simply sat there, listening to the quiet of the house and the sound of your breathing.

Dean had sat beside you for what felt like hours, content to watch over you as you slept. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as the night grew deeper, he knew he couldn’t let you sleep on the couch all night.

With a soft sigh, Dean carefully shifted, trying not to wake you as he stood up. He hesitated for a moment, then bent down and gently cradled you in his arms, lifting you with surprising ease. Your head rested against his chest, and he could feel the soft, even rhythm of your breathing against him. Despite everything, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at your sleeping face.

“Fucking lightweight”, he mumbled under his breath, a mix of affection and exasperation in his tone. But there was no real annoyance there.

He carried you upstairs with a careful, steady stride, trying his best not to jostle you awake. But as he reached your room and laid you down gently on the bed, your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. Your hand instinctively reached out, grabbing his wrist, your grip surprisingly firm for someone who had been so deeply asleep just moments before.

“Stay”, you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, thick with sleep and emotion. Your eyes were wide and glassy, filled with a vulnerability that made Dean’s heart clench. The look in your eyes, the way you were holding onto him, was almost too much to bear.

Dean grimaced, knowing that this was a bad idea—a very bad idea. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to step back, to leave you to sleep on your own and let the night end here. But the way you were looking at him, the soft plea in your voice, made it nearly impossible for him to pull away. He knew you were hurting, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse by leaving you alone.

“(Y/N)…”, he began, his voice low and conflicted, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think—”.

But before he could finish, your eyes filled with tears, the glassiness deepening into something more desperate. The sight of you like this, so vulnerable and pleading, shattered what little resolve he had left.

“Please”, you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “Just for a little while”.

Dean cursed under his breath, feeling his defenses crumbling. He knew this was a bad idea—knew that staying would only blur the lines between you even more, making everything more complicated. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away, not when you needed him like this.

“Alright", he finally conceded, his voice barely more than a gruff whisper. “Just for a little while”.

You nodded, relief flooding your features as you loosened your grip on his wrist, allowing him to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. He stayed there for a moment, just watching you as you curled up under the covers, your eyes already beginning to drift shut again.

Dean hesitated, then slowly kicked off his boots and moved to lie down beside you, keeping a careful distance between you. He was hyper-aware of the space between you, the way your presence seemed to fill the entire room, but he forced himself to relax, to focus on just being there for you.

You shifted closer to him, seeking out his warmth, and for a moment, Dean froze, unsure of what to do. But then you nestled your head against his shoulder, your hand resting lightly on his chest, and he felt the tension in his body start to ease, just a little.

“Thank you”, you mumbled.

Dean didn’t reply, couldn’t trust his voice to come out steady. Instead, he just wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

As you nestled closer to Dean, your initial exhaustion started to ebb away, replaced by a growing awareness of the situation. The warmth of his arm around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand—it all felt so comforting, yet it also sent your heart into overdrive. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was something you hadn’t fully anticipated, and now, with Dean’s presence so tangible beside you, sleep seemed like a distant possibility.

Your mind was racing, despite the physical fatigue that still lingered. Every breath you took seemed to sync with his. It was almost overwhelming, the way your senses were suddenly heightened, every touch and sound magnified in the quiet darkness of the room.

Dean, on the other hand, was trying his best to remain still, to keep his breathing even and not give away the turmoil in his own mind. He could feel your heartbeat quicken against his chest, and it took everything in him not to react, not to let on just how much this moment was affecting him. He wanted to be strong for you, to be the rock you needed, but the way you were clinging to him, the way your body molded so perfectly to his, made it incredibly difficult to keep his emotions in check.

He knew he should move, should put some distance between you before things got even more complicated. But every time he considered it, you seemed to press closer, and his resolve would falter. There was something about the way you were holding onto him, the way you seemed to need him in that moment, that made it impossible for him to pull away.

You shifted slightly, your hand sliding up just a bit, and Dean could feel the heat of your palm through the thin material of his shirt. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of desire and guilt swirling in his chest. He cursed himself silently, knowing this was dangerous territory, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the connection.

“Dean…”, you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but his name seemed to slip out on its own, a soft plea that hung in the air between you.

Dean’s breath hitched slightly, and he tightened his arm around you, pulling you just a fraction closer. “I’m here”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere”.

Your heart raced even faster at his words, the reassurance both comforting and overwhelming. The night had taken a toll on you, emotionally and physically, but now, with Dean so close, with his voice so full of unspoken promises, you felt a confusing mix of emotions bubbling to the surface—gratitude, affection.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. But no matter how you moved, the awareness of Dean’s presence was impossible to ignore, and the thought of sleep felt more and more distant.

The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, the silence in the room thick with the unspoken tension between you and Dean. You could feel his arm still holding you close, the weight of his presence both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. Your heart continued to race, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t quite keep in check.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 9

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall

[motelsnleatherseats]

By the time John gets back from his hunt, he can tell that his boys were far passed the point of no return. Dean can hardly look him in the eyes without donning a shameful expression, like he can smell the sin coming off him, and Sam's more flighty than usual, keeping as much space as he can between him and Dean as if the sudden distance compared to their usual closeness wasn't a red flag.

Sam's got a bandaid at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, but John can see the outskirts of bruising peeking out from the edges, tiny broken blood vessels darkening the skin caused by careless teeth and lips. Dean's refusing to take off his jacket despite the heat with the collar turned up to shield the obvious marks of blunt nails that were dragged down the nape of his neck and between shoulder blades. Only one bed looks slept in, the other exactly how it was when he left.

A few days go by before they let their guard down a bit, now back in each other's personal space, but John can see the way they look at each other. Dean spends too much time gazing longingly at his little brother every chance he gets, and when he's driving and looking at Sam in the rear view mirror, John has to remind him 'eyes on the road, Dean' more times than he should in the span of a few hours.

They pull off to a gas station to fill up and grab something to eat, and John heads inside, sees the boys head off to the bathroom together around the back, and already he can sense trouble. He gives them a few minutes, but when they're taking longer than they should, he marches his way to the bathroom and calls out for them, one stall occupied, two pairs of feet suddenly scrambling.

Sam's hair is disheveled and Dean looks like he's expecting to get throttled, panic evident. His cheeks that were momentarily red ago were draining color. John cocks his head towards the door in a silent demand that they leave and get back to the car. Sam rushes out but John grabs Dean by the lapel of his jacket and pushes him against the tiled wall before he had a chance to skirt passed him. He can feel his eldest go rigid, face scrunching up some like he's expecting to get hit, but John exhales a rough breath, releasing his hold on him.

"Never in public, do you understand me? And if you're going to mark each other up, get better at hiding it."

Dean stares in shock for a moment like his brain is trying to process what the hell was happening. John can see him trying to make sense of it, to come to the realization that yes, he knows, and he's not going to beat the daylights out of him for putting hands on Sammy.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yessir."

John takes the keys from Dean and lets him leave first to join his brother at the car. He takes a moment to splash his face with some water before scrubbing over it a sigh. Those young, careless boys. What was he going to do with them?

↳ a continuation of this post.

[sunasrin]

☆⋆ﾟ𓂃 いとし凛 : NEW YEARS

── after a full day of preparation for New Years, your boyfriend of 4 years didn't show up.

.࣭𓆩̟࣪𓆪̟ pro!itoshi rin ‹ ˖࣪ ִֶָ ‹ fem!reader : (★) 2.4k w ──

⋅☾ IMAGINE , angst to fluff , comfort , heartbreak , happy ending

lexi's note . · ☄︎ hello! This is my first writing for bllk ! If you enjoy, please do insist on requesting !! I might make this as a mini series, but we'll see, due to college ! Other than that, here is some things that I'll like to go over with ! First English isn't my first language so please bare with me if I don't make sense or either the writing ! Second, this imagine will contain sorts of heated arguments, cussing, etc. Therefore, I wish you guys a happy new year! 🫶🏻✨️

As the sky shimmered with stars against the inky black atmosphere, the dining table gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight. Every plate was accurately placed, reflecting the anticipation and care that Y/n had poured into the evening. She stood by the door, her heart a mix of excitement and worry, waiting for her handsome boyfriend to return home. The table was set at exactly 7 pm, each dish carefully chosen to be his favorite, creating an inviting smell that mingled with the delicate scent of flowers in the centerpiece. Y/n knew Rin's demanding schedule well, his travels for tournaments and intense matches often keeping him busy. His practice was supposed to end at 10 pm, and with their home just 30 minutes away, he should have been back by 10:30. Yet, as the clock ticked closer to 11, the silence of their cozy home grew more unsettling. She tried to reassure herself, imagining Rin picking up last-minute gifts, but the unease gnawed at her. However, five minutes turned into 30, then an hour, until it was 11:59. The only sound breaking the silence was the TV, counting down from 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... ushering in 2025. A new year without... Rin. Her beloved boyfriend. Y/n's heart sank as the fireworks lit up the night sky outside, their vibrant colors mocking the emptiness she felt inside. She had spent weeks planning this night, hoping to surprise Rin with a celebration that would show him just how much he meant to her. But now, as the new year arrived, she was alone, her mind racing with worry and fear. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt or in trouble? The thoughts swirled in her head, each one more terrifying than the last. Another hour had passed, hitting exactly at 1:45 in the morning. Y/n let out a soft sigh, the sound echoing in the quiet of the house as she moved to clean the dining table.

The remnants of their romantic dinner lay scattered, the once warm food now cold and uninviting. She carefully put the leftovers into the fridge, the door creaking slightly as she closed it, then turned her attention to the dishes. The water splashed as she washed them, the warm suds contrasting sharply with the chill in her heart. She tossed the melted candle into the trash, its waxy remnants a sad reminder of the evening that had slipped away. With a heavy heart, Y/n glanced back at the dining table, now a shadow of its former charm, before trudging up the stairs to their shared bedroom. The familiar routine felt hollow tonight, but she tucked herself into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her as if they could shield her from the pain. She switched off her lamp, the room plunging into darkness, but sleep eluded her. As the clock ticked closer to 2 am, she sighed again, her eyes fluttering closed, finally succumbing to a deep slumber. Meanwhile, Rin was oblivious to the turmoil at home. It was 2025, a new year full of possibilities, and he thought little of his late return. After a lively dinner with his team to celebrate, he hadn’t expected to stumble into the quiet apartment at 3 in the morning. He sighed, the sound of his keys jingling as he unlocked the door, the familiar creak of it swinging open greeting him like an old friend. As he stepped inside, the silence wrapped around him, the only light coming from the hallway, casting soft shadows on the walls. He shrugged off the unease creeping into his chest, assuming Y/n had gone to bed early. But as he entered the bedroom, a chill ran down his spine. Y/n’s side of the bed was untouched, the sheets neatly made as if she hadn’t been there at all. A wave of concern washed over him, and he glanced at her nightstand, where her phone lay, untouched and silent. “Y/n?” he called softly, his voice breaking the stillness. The silence stretched, and his heart raced with worry. He sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Leaning over, he gently brushed a hand against her shoulder.

The next morning felt like a repeat for Y/n. Rin had early practice, and she knew he wouldn’t be home until 10 at night again. She didn’t care much; it had become the norm. To pass the time, she decided to do some chores around the house. As she moved from room to room, she stumbled upon a pair of nasty socks hidden behind the couch. “Ew, it has spider webs on it!” she exclaimed, grossed out. These were the socks Rin had been looking for for soccer. With a sigh, she picked them up and tossed them into the laundry basket, shaking her head at the dirty socks that happened to be found. She sighed to herself as she pushed the couch back to its place. She continued to work around the house, diligently moving from one task to the next. She swept the floors, her broom gliding across the wooden planks, collecting dust and crumbs into neat little piles. Next, she tackled the carpets, the hum of the vacuum cleaner filling the air as she meticulously covered every inch, ensuring no speck of dirt was left behind. With a bucket of soapy water and a mop in hand, she scrubbed the tiles, watching as the grime dissolved and the floors gleamed once more. Finally, she turned to the laundry, carefully folding each piece of clothing, smoothing out wrinkles, and stacking them into tidy piles. Just as she was about to finish, Rin comes home, his face a mix of exhaustion and frustration. Y/n didn't pay much attention to his facial features but asked, "How was your day at practice?" Rin, irritated from Bachira and Isagi's constant annoyance, responded roughly with a stern voice, "Don't worry about it." He scoffed, his irritation evident in his tone. "Well, I should worry if my boyfriend is sounding upset. Here, help me put the laundry away," she states, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Rin groans, "Why me? Do it yourself. I want to rest." He slumps onto the couch, his body language screaming fatigue. She hands him a stack of freshly folded clothes, her eyes softening as she watches him. "Come on, it won't take long," she says gently, hoping to ease his frustration.

"No, for once can you fucking leave me alone? You're all over me, it gets annoying! You're too clingy! Why can't you just do shit for yourself without asking me for help?" he screams irrationally. "Me? Annoying? Clingy?" she chuckles, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Seriously, me out of all the girls you fucking dated! Itoshi Rin, do you not notice the hard work I put in the entire day? I work my ass off just for you to sit here and discredit me? Like seriously I'm the one you should be thankful to, that you still have a clean home to come to, food on the table for you! So don't sit here and say I ask for help too much, which I don't. I understand you're upset because of practice, but lashing out at me is not okay!" she heaves, her chest rising and falling heavily with emotion. "Whatever, all you ever do in this house is nag. Without me, you wouldn't be able to pay for a roof over your head!" Rin snaps, his face flushed with anger. Y/n's eyes widen in shock, but she quickly regains her composure. "Nag? Is that what you think I do? Every day, I wake up early to clean this house, cook your meals, and make sure everything is perfect for you. And you think all I do is nag?" Her voice trembles with a mix of hurt and frustration. Rin turns away, his jaw clenched. "You wouldn't survive a day without me. I'm the one who pays the bills and keeps us afloat." Y/n takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "You think money is everything? What about the emotional support, the care, the effort I put into making this house a home? You can't just dismiss all that because you're upset. This isn't fair, Rin." Y/n just stood there in disbelief. "It's fine cause honestly, you weren't ever there for me in the first place. Example, last night. You knew we had New Year's planned out. But still, didn't even try to make the effort to show up. How is that nagging? If you had plans yesterday, I could've sworn you would've said something to give me the heads up!" She screamed, but more irritation began to set on fire for Rin. "Maybe it's because I didn't want to sit my ass home with you. You complaining, whining, and your clingy self, it's a nuisance. As a matter of fact, I'd rather go out than be stuck at home with a bitch who nags like you!" He screamed, chest heaving from the words he spat out.

Y/n just stood there, mouth agape, body shaking, and tears slipping out of her eye sockets. Her eyes tried to search for lies in his cold grey teal eyes, but all she saw was anger... no remorse. She felt the weight of his words pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. The room seemed to close in around her, the once familiar walls now feeling like a prison. The memories of their happier times flashed before her eyes, making the present moment even more unbearable. She remembered the laughs they shared, the promises they made, and how she once felt safe in his arms. But now, those memories felt like a cruel joke, mocking her for believing in something that was never real. Rin's face was twisted in anger, his eyes burning with a fire she had never seen before. "You always make everything about you, Y/n. Every single time. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you," he continued, his voice dripping with venom. Each word was like a dagger to her heart, tearing apart the fragile threads that held her together. Y/n's mind raced, trying to find a way to respond, to make him see how much he was hurting her. But the words wouldn't come. All she could do was stand there, feeling the tears stream down her face, her body trembling with a mixture of sadness and rage. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she felt paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the moment. Rin sighed before leaving the living room, making his way up into the shared bedroom, slamming the door shut, causing her to jump to realization. Rin sighed before leaving the living room, making his way up into the shared bedroom. The tension in the air was palpable, and each step he took seemed to echo the unresolved conflict between them. As he reached the bedroom, he slammed the door shut with a force that sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to jump in realization.

Y/n stood frozen in the living room, the sound of the door reverberating in her ears. It was as if the slam had shattered the fragile silence that hung between them, bringing to the surface all the unspoken words and buried emotions. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She sank onto the couch, her mind racing with thoughts and memories. The image of Rin's back as he walked away was etched into her mind, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between them. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. The room around her seemed to blur as she replayed the events of the past few days in her mind. The arguments, the misunderstandings, the moments of silence that spoke louder than words. She realized that they had been drifting apart for a while, and the slammed door was just the final punctuation mark in a sentence that had been written long ago. As the minutes ticked by, Y/n knew she had to face the reality of their situation. Still, she couldn't leave Itoshi Rin; she still loved him. Y/n knew that Rin didn't mean the words he spoke. It was just that they were in the heat of the moment. But... still, why did it hurt so bad? Why did his words send knives stabbing into the soft heart she let him hold on to? Just why? Y/n knew Rin's frustrations came from a place of stress and exhaustion. She had seen the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he thought no one was watching. She understood that his words were born out of that momentary lapse, but it didn't make them hurt any less. The sting of his accusations and the sharpness of his tone had cut deeper than she cared to admit. Her mind wandered to the happier times they had shared, the laughter and the quiet moments of understanding. Those memories felt like a distant dream now, overshadowed by the lingering pain of their recent fight. She clutched her chest, feeling the physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil. As she sat there, tears began to blur her vision. She couldn't help but wonder why love had to be so complicated, why the person she trusted most could also be the one to cause her the most pain. She knew Rin hadn't meant to hurt her, but knowing that didn't make the pain go away. It only made it more confusing, more tangled in the web of their emotions.

Even so, an hour had gone by after the argument. Rin was still cooped up in the room while Y/n was thinking about the outcome of the argument. Until she heard the door swing open from their shared bedroom. Footsteps coming from upstairs traveled all the way down to where she was seated, and then she felt a dip next to her. Y/n couldn't look. She couldn't look at his face. She knew that if she looked into his beautiful grey teal eyes, she would forgive him easily. "Baby," he started, grabbing onto her hand that was still shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. You're not clingy, you're not a nuisance, you're not a hassle, you don't nag at me, you don't complain, you don't whine, and you’re definitely not a bitch." He began. "Then why did you say those words?" she spoke up with a whisper. Rin's face softened as he felt agony and guilt creeping into his body, sending chills down his spine. "I didn't mean it. I was upset from practice, and I'm sorry for missing out yesterday night. I know that we planned it out, but by the time I was going to text you, my phone died. I couldn't text you, and I honestly should've let you know about the plans that were made." Rin grabbed her chin to lift her face up, looking into her teary eyes that were now swollen red. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing. Y/n's heart ached with the weight of his words, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between them hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the warmth they usually shared. Rin's hand trembled slightly as he held her chin, desperate for her forgiveness. Y/n's mind raced with conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe him, to let go of the pain and embrace the love she knew was still there. But the hurt was still fresh, the wounds still raw. She searched his eyes for any sign of deceit but found only remorse and a deep longing to make things right. Rin's voice broke the silence once more, softer this time, almost a plea. "Please, Y/n. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I promise, I'll make it up to you. Just... give me a chance."

"You hurt me." She cried again, her face in her palms as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead onto his shoulder. Y/n continued her cries while Rin patted her back and whispered soft apologies. After her crying calmed down, Rin kissed her forehead, and she smiled, happy to know he owned up to his actions. "So, do I get another chance?" he pleaded. "Welllllllll..." she began, teasingly drawing out the word. "Babyyyyyy," he practically begged, his voice filled with desperation. "I'm just kidding," she smiled. "You can have it, but the trust... you're going to have to make it all up." She spoke before booping his nose. Rin smiled, a mixture of relief and determination in his eyes. "Now you're going to refold all this laundry," Y/n pointed out. "What? Why?" he whined, looking at the pile of clothes with a dramatic sigh. "Do I have to repeat myself?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, ma'am," he saluted, a playful grin on his face as he began to fold the laundry. Y/n watched him, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment. She leaned down and gave him a small peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she smiled before going back to folding clothes alongside Rin, her beloved boyfriend.

As they folded the laundry together, the atmosphere in the room shifted from one of tension to one of quiet companionship. The rhythmic movements of their hands, the soft rustle of fabric, and the occasional shared glance spoke volumes about their commitment to each other. They knew that rebuilding trust would take time, but in that moment, they were united in their effort to move forward. Rin paused for a moment, looking at Y/n with a tender expression. "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make things right," he said softly. Y/n nodded, her heart swelling with hope. "I know you will. And I'll be here, every step of the way." They continued to fold the laundry, side by side, finding solace in the simple act of working together. The future was uncertain, but as long as they had each other, they knew they could face whatever challenges came their way. In the quiet of their shared space, they found a renewed sense of connection and a deepened understanding of what it meant to truly love and forgive.

[appocalipse]

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon. 

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great." 

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well. 

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps  he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway,  hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words. 

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe. 

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over. 

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

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[cowboydisaster]

Just Like You

pairing: SImon "Ghost" Riley x single mom reader word count: 1.6k summary: Ghost can't get used to the fact that he's your son's favorite person in the world, but damn- he's trying. ("You- You're me for Halloween??") a/n: this fic references the comics, so for those who didn't know: Joseph was Simon's nephew. Super angsty and fluffy. Simon bonding with your kid. beta read by @margowritesthings

masterlist

Leo loves Halloween. It’s your son’s favorite time of year. The five year old boy, with your help, worked incredibly hard on his costume, and he’s sure it's going to be the best costume on the block. You may be a little biased, but really, it’s very good. Leo has put extra effort into perfecting every detail of his costume, because this year is special.

It’s the first year that Simon will be accompanying Leo with trick or treat. Leo loves Simon to pieces– but Simon can’t figure out why. The soldier elicits fear from nearly everyone that he encounters, his mask makes children scream and run in the other direction. Hell, his mask makes adults piss themselves in the field. Many enemy soldiers have surrendered at the sight of Ghost running towards them. So Simon can’t wrap his head around the fact that his girlfriend’s little boy looks up at him like he’s the greatest person in the world. 

Simon is less than stellar with children. He tries, but he’s not entirely sure how to talk to them. He’s always a little awkward, generally avoiding children when he can, but this one seeks him out. Simon loves you more than anything, and he wants to form a relationship with Leo, he’s just not exactly sure how. He’s trying, for you and the boy. Leo’s biological dad is a piece of shit, which Simon has lived through, and he tries to shield the poor kid from that pain as much as possible. Maybe it’s because Leo reminds him so much of Tommy and Joseph, but your kid is special. 

–

“You ready, bud?” You ask, pulling a hoodie over your frame. It’s Simon’s and it’s oversized, stopping just above your knees. But it's comfortable, and late-October in Manchester is not. Immediately, you find yourself encompassed in its warmth and the smell of Simon’s cologne.

“Almost, mummy!” Leo yells from the bathroom. “Simon is gonna love this!”

You chuckle, “I know he will, baby.” You grab the fresh mug of tea from your nightstand and head down the carpeted stairs. Simon was to be here an hour before trick or treat. You check your watch. 18:00. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, sounding out loudly through your little home. Always punctual. Leo squeals out of excitement at the sound.

“Coming!” You holler, padding across the chilly living room towards the door. You jog lightly, causing a few drops of tea to spill over from the lip of your mug, dripping down to the floor and splashing against the hardwood floor. Ignoring the little mess, you pull the frosted glass door open. Simon is wearing his less civilian mask with the hard plastic skull face. You’d specifically requested that he wear it, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You can just come in, you know. You don’t have to ring the doorbell.” You chuckle, nodding for him to come in. He steps inside the door, hands softly gripping onto your waist as he kicks the door shut. 

“I told you to keep your door locked.” Simon raises an eyebrow, squeezing your waist. 

“Oh, right…” You hum, squinting your eyes as you recall that conversation, “I forgot.”

“Course you did, love.” Simon smirks, “Happy Halloween.” he says, and you chuckle, gripping his skull mask by the teeth and pushing it up over his face. His scarred lips are sporting a smile, and you kiss it away. It’s over all too quick as he pulls away, nodding towards the cup of tea in your hand. 

“The kettle’s still on, yeah?” He asks, pulling the mask back down over his face. 

“Yes, I’ll get you a cuppa.” You roll your eyes playfully. He’s cutting your kisses short for tea, something he’ll make up for later, you’re sure. Simon glances around the living room, noting the few abandoned truck toys that lie around the living room.

“Where’s Leo?” Simon asks, looking around the living room as you walk towards the kitchen. 

“He’s just finishing getting ready upstairs. Why don’t you go up? I'll bring your tea up.” You hum, grabbing a tea bag and Simon’s favorite mug. You hear heavy footsteps going up the stairs, and take that as his response. 

You shake your head, amused as you slowly pour the steaming water over the tea bag, watching it turn a rich brown. Once it’s properly mashed, you add his preferred amount of milk and sugar, and then carefully start up the stairs. Your footsteps are naturally much quieter than Simon’s, and with the added fact that you’re trying not to spill his tea, he doesn’t hear you coming up the steps. You reach the top, and stop dead in your tracks at the sight around the corner. Simon is walking towards Leo’s bedroom, but from the angle you’re at, you can see Leo hiding around the corner as if he's about to scare Simon. Leo is fully dressed in his Halloween costume, a little replica of the exact outfit Simon is currently wearing, skull mask and all.

“Boo!” Leo screams, rounding the corner that Simon was just about to go around.

Simon clutches his chest, jumping back a comical amount. Simon literally screams, attempting to sound terrified. Obviously Simon isn’t scared in the least, but Leo doesn’t know that. Simon lets the boy proudly think that his costume is scary enough to frighten the unshakeable. Leo’s smile is as bright as ever under his mask, and you grip the cup of tea a little tighter as a smile pulls at your own lips. Simon’s eyes are comically wide as he fakes terror for the young boy. Entirely satisfied with Simon’s reaction, Leo pulls his mask off, giggling madly. 

“It’s okay, Simon! It’s just me, don't be scared!” Leo giggles, jogging up towards Simon who is bent over at the waist, pretending to gasp for breath and holding his chest.

“Bloody hell, mate. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Simon chuckles, scooping Leo up into his arms. Once settled on Simon’s hip, Leo holds the plastic mask up to Simon’s face. It’s an exact replica of the mask he’s currently wearing, just much smaller. 

“Look! I'm just like you for Halloween!” Leo smiles, showing Simon all the little details that he’d put into perfecting his mask. 

“You–” Simon’s brow furrows, “You’re me for Halloween?” He asks, piecing it all together. Leo holds the mask out to Simon, who takes it and looks over the smaller version of Ghost’s infamous skull mask. 

“Yep! Do you like it…?” Leo asks, sounding a bit worried. His little eyebrows pull together, and Simon is quick to reassure him. 

“I love it, mate. It’s perfect, looks just like mine.” Simon whispers. There is emotion in his voice, unusual for him, you note. Tears prick your eyes as Leo puts the mask back on, looking up at Simon. 

“I wanna be like you when I grow up.” Leo says, wrapping his little arms around Simon’s neck. 

“You’re gonna be better than me, Leo. Much better, yeah?” Simon whispers, looking the boy in the eyes. Leo nods, curling up against Simon’s chest. He rubs his hand up and down Leo’s back, comforting him. 

“You know, Leo, you remind me of a boy I used to know.” Simon mumbles in a rare show of emotional vulnerability, his eyes glazed over as he pats the boy’s back. 

“Who?” Leo asks, propping his chin on Simon’s chest to look up at him better. 

“Uh–” Simon hesitates. “His name was Joseph… He was my nephew.” Simon whispers, and your heart wrenches in your chest. 

“Maybe I could meet him someday and we could play.” Leo whispers, hopefully looking up. 

“Yeah. Maybe someday.” Is all Simon says, nodding lightly as old, ugly memories pull at his brain, ones he’d shoved out and burned long ago. 

“I love you, Simon.” Leo whispers, hugging his little arms as tightly around the man as he can manage. He pulls Simon out of every dark thought he was having, those three little words pulling at his heart strings. Simon hesitates, voice stuttering for a moment. 

“Yeah– I love you too, little mate.” Simon whispers, voice heavy with emotion.

“This is gonna be so much fun– Mummy even helped me with my costume!” Leo adds, unintentionally changing the subject. He creates a perfect time for you to announce your presence. 

You hastily wipe your eyes and walk up the last step, rounding the corner you were just hiding behind. You catch Simon off guard, and he turns to you, slowly placing the young boy back on the ground.

“I didn’t hear you come up.” Simon whispers, taking the mug from your outstretched hands. He’s far away, lost in thought. Leo runs down the hall to grab his treat bag as Simon wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Didn’t want to spill your cuppa.” You explain, resting your head on his chest for a moment. Leo comes back around the corner with his bag, excitedly waiting for trick or treat to begin.

You smile up at Simon, noticing a few little tear tracks running down through his eye black.

ghost taglist: @moths569

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬. ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: just like the clouds, my eyes will do the same…

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: genshin impact | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: neuvillette/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 0.86k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: previously established relationship, age gap, character death, angst, blood, dragon reader,

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: haven’t done the archon quest but god i’m in love w him so have this that i literally just fucking wrote start to finish

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

it’s almost cruel, how bright the sun was shining. it shone so strongly it hurt your eyes, made you squint as you gazed up at him — you, his longest lasting companion, and you, who he shields from the burning sun with his own body. the shadow his head and broad shoulders cast across your face is cool and welcome, and you ignore the way his hands shake. 

“i’d do it all over, you know,” you whisper quietly, and he tenses at the sound of your trembling voice, his grip on you tightening. “if the gods were to grant me a second chance at life, i’d make the same decisions — i’d follow for our eternity, and i’d stay. with you.”

“stupid girl, you talk too much,” neuvillette whispers, clutching you as close and as tight as he can without hurting you. “you’re wasting energy.”

clouds, a mixture of white and grey, drift into the limited stretch of sky within your sight. you reply, “it’s never a waste. not when spent on you,” and he whimpers. 

you’ve never heard him so fearful. 

“you — you cannot-“ neuvillette’s words catch in his throat, unable to escape his mouth, and you smile up at him through battle-rouged lips. his breathing shakes, but he forces himself through it. “you aren’t allowed to do this. we swore it, many millennia ago — you and i, unparted until the end.”

you laugh softly, and it hurts. “don’t you see? lover, it is the end.” blood dribbles from your lips as a low, pained noise falls from his own, an animalistic keen that breaks your heart; you can hear his own racing — the fear is getting to him, the panic as well. 

thunder booms. 

“n-no, i said no-!” he says, his voice strong and weak at the same time, and you shakily put a hand over his own where it covers the gaping wound in your middle. 

“even you cannot deny death his prize, neuvillette,” you whisper seriously. behind him, where he kneels on the pristine stone of the courtyard where you’d both been ambushed by enemies he’d finished off in a rage once he saw you fall in a splash of blood, guards approach with young furina in tow. she locks eyes with you, glancing briefly with horror in her gaze at your husband where he holds you while his trousers soak in the pool of blood you’ve created, and hers become wide and scared.

damn it. you’d not wanted her to see; it was already terrible enough that your husband had been with you when you’d been struck, and now the charge neuvillette and yourself had taken was to watch as well? the gods must be laughing at your misfortune. 

“please,” he whispers above you, hunched small and rounded so as to shield you from a threat that had already fallen upon the both of you. he ignores furina’s arrival.  “please, do not.”

lightning flashes, a warning of what was to come. 

he was done refuting fate and denying the gods their entertainment. now he was begging you, publicly prostrating himself before the many witnesses at his back without a single care in the world as long as it meant keeping you. his hand shakes as you clutch it in yours. 

“nothing will change atropos’ claim,” your murmurs, lifting one hand to cup his face. it takes almost all of the strength you have left as you lay there, bleeding out uncontrollably, but it’s all worth it as he nuzzles his face into your palm while his eyes remain squeezed shut. 

“it’s not fair,” he whispers against your wrist, his voice trembling, and you run your thumb along the crest of his cheekbone fondly. 

“life — life isn’t fair,” you force out around bloody teeth. behind your husband, the guards stand silent and furina quietly calls out a worried question you can’t really register as the wind starts to pick up aggressively. the vast picture of the sky behind neuvillette darkens to a deep grey the color of deep sea stone, a sky that begins to grow smaller and darker around the edges of your vision as your strength runs out. your heart pangs as you stare into his eyes. they’re panicked, afraid; you fear what today will do to him. you cannot let it be worse. “neuvillette — husband, look away.”

he shakes his head, and he does not. your brow furrows faintly as he begins trembling anew. 

“n-neuvillette, please…”

no. he can’t. 

“husband-…” with a choked whine, he squeezes his eyes shut.

a soft, fading sigh roars in his ears like the deafening crashing that comes with standing by waterfalls, and a hurt gasp from furina behind him prompts him to open his eyes again. he looks down at you, unmoving but still warm to the touch, and if he were a lesser learned man he’d have been fooled into thinking you were just sleeping — but you were not. you would not ever rest again, despite being drawn into the grasps of the eternal sleep. his breathing comes and goes, unstable and messy, and his heart aches. it burns with an agony as if it’s been torn from his chest—

and it begins to rain. 

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.