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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

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Roped In

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Spencer is a man on the run, a man who you turned in for countless murders. What happens when he shows up at your new home after you’re placed into WITSEC?

Content/Warnings: Dubcon (I’m just putting this just to be safe), mild gore descriptions, blood, restraints, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 2.4K

Kinktober Day Five: Bondage

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

You never really pictured yourself running away from everything you’d ever known, to pick up and leave without as much as saying a word. Witness Protection changed that for you. You missed your friends, your coworkers, your family.. Spencer hadn’t ever been a violent person before prison. He was sweet, had a smile on his face and a playful gleam in his eye. After being framed for murder and locked up though, it was like something snapped inside of him.

He’d been faced with horrific sights behind bars, not to mention that after tampering with drugs he was supposed to move behind those cement walls, he actually enjoyed hurting the inmates who had fallen prey to the batch. He could feel a warmth flood through his veins, a blood lust clouding his vision.

He’d lost all his previous morals, the oath that he’d taken going down the drain after the first kill. It was a list of offenders who had gotten out of prison early. People like rapists, child abusers, a lot of it. He’d marked himself as an injustice collector. The only reason he got caught? Because of you. You’d walked into a scene you had no business being in. You were supposed to text him before you made it to his apartment, to let him know you were on the way. Instead, you had the bright fucking idea to walk in when he was wrist deep in some rapists intestines.

He fell off the map after that. He tossed his phone, left town, and left absolutely no trace behind. The problem with Spencer Reid becoming a monster similar to the ones he’d spent over a decade hunting down was that he knew how to get away with it. He knew how to avoid Garcia’s tracking, how to live off the grid with strictly cash and keeping his head down.

However he had connections. Knowing that you were gone and in WITSEC, he knew he’d spend as much time as he needed to find you. After all, this was your fault. All he wanted to do was get rid of the bad men and women who did unspeakable things to the innocent people of the world. He did the prison system a favor. Overcrowding was too common, so why not let a silent helper take care of the issue? Too bad nobody looked at it logically.

He’d spent months searching for you. He’d gone through so many states, so many cities. It was exhausting. The payoff when he saw you though? Oh, it felt fucking good. You’d been relocated to Tennessee, hidden off in the mountains in hopes of hiding from the man who was on the news nationwide.

You foolishly believed you were safe, under a new name and in a new city, it was hard to track you. Besides, Spencer didn’t have the assistance of Penelope anymore, that would be his main factor in finding you. You were safe. Soon the BAU would find Spencer and this nightmare would be over.

Or you thought that to be the case.

You were getting ready for a night out with a few new friends you’d made over the past few months, actually quite happy with the relocation. You’d gotten a job as an administrative assistant at a paper company, so you were quite content with an office job. It was actually a blessing, you had a good paying job with benefits.

You hadn’t been paying attention to the news within these past two weeks, every outlet in the nation reporting on the search for the dangerous Spencer Reid. You’d vaguely heard a mention in the office, however you weren’t tuned in to hear about your psychopathic ex boyfriend.

You’d been upstairs in your bathroom when you heard the sound of your door opening and closing, about to call out to your friends before you were stopping dead in your tracks. “Y/N?! I know you’re home!” The familiar voice boomed through the house, causing you to quickly and quietly push the bathroom door shut before locking it. You couldn’t jump from the second floor window, you’d break something and make it even easier for him to hurt you. You didn’t even have time to think of your options whenever you heard the sound of heavy footsteps. “Are we playing hide and seek?” His voice was getting closer, your body doing its best to camouflage behind the sink, however, you weren’t small enough to hide behind the tiny sink.

The doorknob turned, your heart in your throat. This was it. He was going to kill you, show the BAU that they didn’t help you in the slightest. It could be a taunt, showing that he’d always find you. “Oh, are you hiding in there?! Y/N, my angel, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice was dripping with insincerity, fist angrily hitting against the door. “Don’t make me kick it in.” He said in a simple tone, a frown now on his face.

There were a few moments of silence, something that gave you a false sense of safety. He gave up. You have lived to fight another day. However, you had to cover your mouth with a shaking hand as tears welled up in your eyes when you could hear some shuffling behind the door. You were paralyzed in fear as you watched the door fall soon after, the door falling off the hinges.

“This is silly. I can’t believe you made me do that!” He huffed, tossing the screwdriver to the side. He’d come prepared with tools hidden in the trunk of the car he’d swiped. “Now, come here..” He gave a faux pout, approaching your cowered frame. You’d made a snap decision to punch him in the face when he was caught off guard, scrambling out of your hiding place before hurrying out of the bathroom.

You hadn’t gotten far though, all of the screaming for help being useless whenever you felt one hand gripping your waist tight enough to bruise and a hand smacking against your mouth to muffle your screams. “Shut up!” Spencer snapped, using his arm wrapped around your body to lift you.

Once you were in your room, he didn't waste time to use the rope he’d thrown on your bed to tie your wrists tightly, making you sit on the bed while he was grabbing your phone. “I already texted your friends. They are so sorry that you aren’t feeling well. Don’t worry too much, honey. We will be gone before anyone gets suspicious.” He cooed and cupped your cheek, causing you to flinch.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He sighed, patting your cheek with his hand while pressing a kiss against your forehead. “Sorry that I tied you up so tight. I didn’t trust you as much as I was willing to earlier after you punched me. That’s a killer right hook, by the way. Surprised you didn’t break my nose.” He chuckled. He was acting like this was normal, two people catching up after being apart for a few years.

“What are you planning here?” You’d asked, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “A-are you gonna kill me?” The next question came out much more shaky than the first. “I’m not gonna kill you. I’m here to talk. I know you’re scared because of what you saw but I promise that it was for a good cause.” He breathed. Yes, brutally murdering and disemboweling a man on his living room floor was okay. “You know what that guy did? He was notoriously breaking into women’s houses and raping them. I think we can both agree that he got what was coming to him.”

“He should’ve gone to prison..”

“Just for him to get released again after a few years? It’s a waste of police resources, not to mention everyone’s time.”

The part of Spencer that used to share the same sentiment as his girlfriend had died a while ago. “Look, just..” He huffed and brought his hands up to roughly tug at his own hair from frustration. “Trust me. You’re okay.”

You were staring at him, the shock wearing off of seeing the man who you assumed would’ve murdered you with no cares in the world. Now you were just confused. You assumed there would be some sort of revenge plot, a fate of suffering. Instead, you watched as he put his hands against your cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.” He spoke softly while running the rough pad of his thumb over your smooth cheek.

“I thought you left the country for a moment there. I searched everywhere. Then I landed here.. Funnily enough, I was giving up.” He hummed while eventually leaning forward to press a few soft pecks against your lips.

You wanted nothing more than to back away, to run and get help. Instead, your body gave in while your lips were pressing kisses against his lips in return. He’d reeled you back in all over again with little to no effort. Of course.

As the small kisses were escalating, your lips were sloppily slotting along with his as he took the opportunity to try and show you just how much he missed you. “My pretty girl.” His words were sweet like honey as he was pulling away. “Why don’t you let me show you how much I missed you?” The words made you shudder. “P-please do.” You breathed out, unable to help the blush spreading across your cheeks from his gaze. It was like he was a lion in the savannahs and you were a gazelle, peacefully minding your business while he plans to bounce. Plans to eat you alive..

“I’m keeping the ropes where they are, remember that. You have to prove yourself. No matter how much I adore you.” He stated. He couldn’t make any chances. He’d been to prison once and he wasn’t planning on going back anytime soon. You seemed to understand how things were going to go, willingly going along with his plans of keeping you as his.

“Perfect.” He breathed while moving to press one more kiss to your lips. His hands were tugging you to the edge of the bed while he was reaching for your hips, tugging you to the edge of the bed while offering a grin. “Now, just relax.” He cooed, hands now working on the jeans you were wearing for the night before tugging them down your legs with ease. “You had to pick the tightest pants imaginable, didn’t you?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. “I’m not surprised. Although it’s a good thing that I stopped you from going out in these. Didn’t need any obstacles in my way.” He murmured, hands ripping the panties you had on without any care.

Before you could complain, Spencer had already dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. His nose nuzzled against your inner thigh as he pressed a few kisses, biting down on the thick flesh as you let out a surprised yelp. His tongue ran over the fresh teeth marks in your skin before the muscle trailed up your inner thigh, a series of goosebumps spread over your flesh. You wanted nothing more than to take him by the back of the head and push his face into your weeping cunt, however the rope tying your hands together didn’t give you the opportunity.

Thankfully, he’d gotten the hint as he left his tongue lick a stripe up your slick slit, a low groan falling from his lips as he finally got just a little bit of a taste of what he was missing. With his hands gripping your supple thighs, he was letting his tongue flick over your throbbing clit, causing a gasp to fall from your lips. “You taste so good, pretty girl. God, I’ve missed you so much.” He whispered against your slick pussy, making you unsure if he was talking to you or your sex.

His tongue had given a few more licks to your clit before his tongue was teasingly licking around your slit, his nose positioned to bump against your sensitive nub with each movement. “Spencer..” you huffed from frustration, which didn’t seem to deter him.

You’d gotten antsy, wiggling in place in an effort to urge him onward.

When he’d had enough of the teasing though, he was letting his tongue devour your pussy. He was drinking up any slick arousal that you were willing to give him, fully intoxicated on your essence as the sinful sounds of his slurping noises were filling the room alongside your moans and begs for more.

His hand was moving up your torso before gently pushing your body to lay back against the mattress. His hands came back down as he was letting one finger replace his tongue, a low chuckle leaving his lips as soon as your walls were tightening around the long digit. “Look at this greedy pussy. Take my finger so well.” He groaned, slipping in a second finger while working on your cunt. He didn’t have enough time tonight to fully fuck you, knowing you both had to hit the road soon in order for him to get the hell out of dodge.

However, he was gonna make this count. As his fingers were pistoning into your soppy cunt, he was curling them deep inside of you, causing his fingertips to brush against the spongy button deep inside of you that made a squeal fall from your lips.

“How would you make it without me? God knows that any other guy isn’t gonna know how to make you cum the way that I do. I bet you’ve been thinking about me ever since you left.” He spoke lowly, continuing to fingerfuck your pussy at a quick pace, your velvety walls closing in around the two digits. Judging by the way they were spasming and the way your body was shaking from euphoria, he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “Gonna cum.” You warned, head thrown back against the pillow while your eyes were screwed shut.

His efforts weren’t letting up, instead surprising you by adding a third finger into the mix as he continued his assault of your leaking cunt. It only took a few strokes of his fingers before your head was tilting back, mouth wide open as you let out a loud moan. Your cum was decorating his hand now, the slick arousal trailing down his hand to his wrist before he was pulling his fingers out of your used pussy.

“Alright. I’m gonna pack you a bag and then we will get you cleaned up. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Now you were along for the ride, unable to escape. Although you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t love it.

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afro-hispwriter · 1 year ago

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Maximoff?(2)

Peter Maximoff x reader(main)

Wanda Maximoff x reader(past)

Warnings- y/n has dark humor, the Avengers, Thanos and the blip, Phoenix Force!reader but she doesn't know that yet;), Vision slander, semi-slow burn

Italics- past

Bold- telepathy

Part 2 of “Maximoff?”

a/n-the part 2 nobody asked for

"Hi, I'm Y/n L/n, your favorite telepathic superhero or not. I mean, I should be because I am helping clean up the mess Thanos made while the Avengers go in their depressive little hole and think about their failure." You press your lips together and shake your head. "We should really start hating them more, they really don't fix the cities they destroy. And guess who has to clean it up? Me, people from Stark Industries, and volunteers." You point behind you.

"Haha, aren't you an avenger?" The interviewer asks awkwardly.

"No I'm not an avenger, they just want me as a weapon. To do what they can't." You crossed your arms and shrugged. "You know I offered to destroy the soul stone but my ex-girlfriend decided that her red airhead boyfriend that came out of a refrigerator was more important."

"You sound a little hurt at talking about Wanda and Vision, did it hurt when she left you and does it hurt that she's probably gone forever?" You cocked your head to the side.

"Not anymore, it's been 2 years since the whole Sokovia accords thing, and I am definitely over her. And she always talked about her dead family, guess now she gets to see them. As does everyone who disappeared." You laughed awkwardly before face-palming. "Sorry, Sorry."

Swoosh

The chatter behind you became distorted before slowing down to a complete stop. You looked around confused and everyone was moving very slowly. You looked back at the interviewer and the cameraman and their eyelids were still in the process of a blink.

"I didn't do this." You say and press your lips together. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone walking around normally. He had silver hair, wore a Nirvana t-shirt, jean jacket, and some tight jeans(that made his ass look great). He turned around and you locked eyes making him stop, suddenly a goofy smile appeared on him before his eyes widened in shock at the realization that you were looking at him.

Who are you? You ask him through your mind and he looks at you confused, still trying to grasp whatever was happening. Before he could open his mouth you sent him flying back, stopping whatever he was doing. Everyone started moving again and you made your way to the man.

"Everyone take a break." You say and the people around you stopped moving completely. I stopped in front of him and placed my hands on my hips. "Who are you?"

"You're a mutant?" He asks you to curve an eyebrow. People have called you a monster, criminal, a weirdo. But never a mutant. You rolled your eyes.

"Excuse me?" You passed and searched his head. "Peter Maximoff wait- Peter Maximoff? Maximoff!?"

“Maxi- I never told you my name." He says and he sits up. You didn't answer at first, but your heart started racing.

"Wanda all those people dying wasn't your fault." You tell her as you passed your fingers through her hair.

"They certainly think so." She says as she watched the news. You shook your head and grabbed the remote and shut it off.

"You were protecting cap, that's all that matters." She just shrugged and started to bite her nails. Suddenly Vison fazed through the wall and you and Wanda untangled from each other.

"Vis we talked about this," Wanda says with a sympathetic look on her face. Your eyes widen and you scoff.

"Talked about this, so he's done it before. Creep." You sneered and Vison stammered. "Get out." You had said through your teeth, Vison winced and pressed his thumb and index finger into his head. The stone in his forehead felt like it was throbbing.

"Just came to say Mr. Stark is here with a guest." He says and instantly walks out, out the door this time.

"Why do you hate him so much?" Wanda asked you.

"He's bad news Wanda, that stone in his head is bad news. I can feel something bad will happen."

"Doesn't mean you get to control him. You promised you wouldn't control or get in the heads of us or me." She grabbed your hand and entwined your fingers. You sighed and nodded.

"I know I just, I feel like whatever is inside of me is starting to break free, and I can't control it."

"I know the feeling." She says and kissed your cheek.

A small smile came to your face at the memory.

"Have you seriously not caught on that I can read your mind and control others?" You answer him and gestured to the people around. He opened his mouth to say something but just fumbled with the words and just shrugged. "Who do you work for? Thanos?" He looks at you in confusion.

"T-Thanos who is that? I mean I've heard the name because my friend Wade calls this other dude, Cable, Thanos but no I don't know who Thanos is. Sorry, I'm rambling." He says and stands up. You nodded and turned away from him. He was telling the truth, but you needed to know more. So you flicked your hand everyone started moving again and started walking away.

"Follow me Maximoff, you have some explaining to do." You say and Peter doesn't hesitate to follow.

"You have a Lamborgini?" He questions as you walk up to the black shiny car.

"I have a rich friend. Get in." You say and unlock it. Peter pops the door open and the door lifts up. The face he gave was as if the most amazing thing just happened. Once you both were sitting in the car and the doors closed and you started driving you started asking Peter more questions.

"So you're from another Earth?"

"I guess, but I didn't know there were other earths."

"Felt that, but I've learned were not alone." You say with a slight gloom in your voice.

"You sound like you've seen it first hand?"

"I have, and part of that is the reason why everything looks destroyed."

"By Thanos?"

"Yeah, with a snap of his fingers, half the population disappeared and you can guess how that went. People disappearing while driving, flying planes."

"Where were you while Thanos was doing all this." You let out a chuckle

"On vacation. It wasn't until everyone around me was disappearing that I knew something was wrong. Now I'm out here going around and helping rebuild, because I know damn well the Avengers won't do it themselves, they're too busy dwelling on their loss to help the ones still here."

"I'm sorry the Avengers?" Peter asks in pure confusion.

"Earth's mightiest heroes?"

"Oh, so like the X-men. At least that's what we are called where I am from."

"Nice." You say and you fall into an awkward silence. Peter's eyes ran around the entire car. It was so nice and clean.

"So where are we going?"

"Headquarters."

The way Peters's eyes lit up and his jaw slacked at seeing the building was adorable. He looked like a kid on Christmas.

“Here we are.” You say and park the car in your designated spot that had your last name. The doors opened and you stepped out. Peter again looked in awe and she stumbled out of the car. You were walking pretty fast and were almost at the building before Peter noticed. He zipped to you and almost knocked you over.

“Sorry babe, almost knocked you over there.” He says and patted your shoulder lightly. You whipped your head around and glared at him.

“Babe? I'm not you babe.” You say and Peter frowns.

“Sorry, I say that a lot.” You let out a hmph and opened the door. He followed you to the elevator and stepped inside. “How rich is your friend?”

“Pretty rich.” You smile at him and his nose twitches. The elevator dinged on your floor and you stepped out. “Hungry? Thirsty?”

“I can always eat.”

“What do you want?” You ask and you turn the corner into a kitchen.

“Got any Twinkies?” You didn’t respond just opened the pantry and looked around. Frowning at the sight of no Twinkies but settled on a box of brownies. “No Twinkies but I have brownies.”

“Oh, those are cool too.” He says but you can tell he was a little sad and probably needed something that made him happy after everything he has gone through.

“Okay.” You closed your eyes and smiled, then opened the box. In your hand was a wrapped-up brownie. Peter reached out for it but before his eyes, it started to change. It was so familiar to him, as he watched the brownie distort and then become a Twinkie. It suddenly clicked.

“My friend Jean used to be able to do that.” He says and he frowns. You knew when to respect people’s privacy, so you wouldn’t pry on your own. Peter noticed your silence and cleared his throat. “Is it safe to eat?”

“Yeah.” You say and hand it to him. He opened the plastic wrapping and grabbed it. “I guess we should find out how to get you back, your people are probably worried.”

“Yeah probably. But I'm not rushing.” He says and smiles up at you, a slight twinkle in his chocolate eyes. You looked down away from his gaze and felt yourself warm up.

“My friend, Bruce-.” You were cut off by Natasha walking in the kitchen. She stopped at seeing you weren’t alone but chose to ignore it and ask you about it later since her news was urgent. “Nat? Everything okay?”

“We got a hit on Thanos.”

#peter maximoff x reader #evan peters x reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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final-girl96 · 2 years ago

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My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Twenty-One

Spring 1998

"Are you okay?" I looked up at Randy who was sitting in front of me in the cafeteria. "Hmm?" He was looking at me in concern. "I asked if you were okay. What's going on with you?" He asked. "Yeah. Just haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately."

Because I've been paranoid that my crazy ex-boyfriend is going to come and kill me.

"So, you ready for the Stab movie?" He asked. I scoffed, "I'm already getting prank calls." I rolled my eyes and sighed. "People look at us weird already. It's just going to get worse once this movie comes out. Gale really made us all look like assholes while she was the hero. I've got class, I'll talk to you later." I stood up, grabbed my tray and walked away.

I groaned when I was rudely woken by a knock on my door. I peaked one eye open to see it was eleven at night. I was going to get up but turned over to face the wall instead. Just as I was about to fall back to sleep my phone rang. "What the fuck!" I flopped over and blinded reached for the phone. "Someone better be dead!" I hissed. A chuckle on the other end had me sitting straight up in bed.

"No, but there can be. Open the door, baby." I looked over at my door, heart hammering in my chest. "Do you think I'm stupid?" I asked. "There's a surprise for you outside your door and it's not me." I opened the bedside tables drawer, pulled out my pepper spray, and walked to the door. I took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and cracked it open. When I didn't see anyone I opened it more. "Look down." Looking down I saw a bouquet of flowers. "Happy Anniversary."

I bent down, picked them up, threw them on the table beside the door and quickly shut and locked the door. "There is no more anniversary, Stu. We aren't together. The sooner you get that through your head the better." I hung up before he could say anything and went back to bed. I tried to go back to sleep. I have class in the morning but I've been laying here for thirty minutes a day still awake.

Another knock on my door had me jumping out of bed and started trying to push the table in front of it. The door handle jiggled, silence followed before I heard the lock click. There is no fucking way he has a key. I couldn't get the table in front of the door on time before he pushed it open, shut it behind him, and looked at me. My heart damn near stopped. He has a fucking key to my dorm!

"I think we need to have a little chat again." He moved towards me and I jumped up on the table to get away from him. The room wasn't that big seeing as it was a single room. The double rooms were much bigger. I was a little jealous of Sidney and Hallie. "How the fuck do you have a key to my dorm?" I asked. I looked around the room for anything to protect me. I could use my guitar but fuck that. I was not breaking that. I blindly reached for something and looking to see it was a drumstick.

The fuck am I supposed to do with this?!

He moved as I moved and I pointed it at him. "Don't! You just stay right over there and we'll fucking talk but don't come near me, Stu." I was now standing in the corner near my bed while he was still by the door. He held up his hands and moved to sit in the chair at my desk. "That's all I want." I stayed where I was and gestured for him to talk.

This was so fucking stupid. What the hell is wrong with you?!

"I really am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you and I know I've said that already but it's true. Billy was always a little fucked in the head. We used to talk about what it would be like to kill someone but at that time it was just shit talk. Being dumb teenage boys. Then his mom left and he became more serious about it. One day he came to me about what really happened and why she left. Said his dad had an affair." He had his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together.

"I asked who it was, he told me it was hour and Sid's mom. Then he went on to talk about his plan to kill her. I was hesitant at first because I thought about you. But he was my best friend. Bros before hoes." His face dropped when I glared at him. "Not that you're a hoe." He went to stand up. "No! Stay right there!" He sat back down and looked at me with something I couldn't figure out.

"Anyway, after we killed…ya know–it was such an adrenaline high that I started thinking about maybe I should kill Casey for breaking up with me for Steve fucking Orth. But I didn't say anything to Billy at the time about that. After all the adrenaline wore off I started to freak out. We went back to my place since my parents weren't home like always. But I was freaking out because I knew you're the one that found her.

"I saw you coming home then Sid shortly after. Billy wore Cotton's jacket after we took it out of his car. He was the perfect person to pin it on. He was already at the house that night so we took the jacket and waited until he left. When months passed and Sidney closed herself off not letting Billy touch her, he got pissed and that's when the plan to kill her took shape. I told him about wanting to kill Casey and Steve.

"Then Principal Himbry came into play because he pulled Billy into his office to talk about his parents and his grades. He was always on Billy and we figured why not. Perfect distraction to get everyone else out of the house and distracted the police. We didn't count on Gale Weathers and Deputy Dipshit to show up. Didn't count on Randy sticking around either. It was a shitty plan. You all survived…well, Tatum and that cameraman didn't. I'm not sorry for doing it. I am sorry you got hurt though."

There was so much to take in that I didn't realize him standing up and walking towards me until his hand was around my throat, and he had me pinned to the bed. "Gotcha ya…again."

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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The North Star - Part Fourteen: Gunplay - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower@legit9thlunaticwarrior@bbyxoo@the-adzukibean@xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu@anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments (NSFW)

Part Two: Case of the Ex

Part Three: Her Worse Half

Part Four: Always

Part Five: Ask Me Again

Part Six: Degas

Part Seven: The Heist

Part Eight: A Part to Play

Part Nine: Home

Part Ten: Safe Space

Part Eleven: Weak

Part Twelve: Got Your Back

Part Thirteen: Familia

It was meant to be simple, you’d done one hundred and one of these raids in your time as an police officer, as back up, on the front line. You were used to the surge of adrenaline beforehand, the thud of your heart in your chest as everything became more saturated, more focused. There was a clarity in what you’re doing, a sense of satisfaction. You know who the bad guys are, what they’ve done, you’ve seen the fallout. All that’s left is this, the apprehension.

You know they are in there, the Dewoski brothers. Leon, Mickey and Pete. Holed up in their dead mother’s house, hungover to fuck. Munson had sold them out, for immunity and a bid in the witness protection program. The fence didn’t have the stomach for the violence, he’d been selling off the Degas so he could get the hell out of dodge. Selling stolen shit was one thing but murder was a whole other ball game.

“And there’s our delivery girl.” Sinclair said from the shelter of the sedan as the two of you watched a moped pull up alongside chain link fence.

“I’m telling you McMuffins are the way to go when your hungover.” You told him, opening your car door and stepping out. “That and a Vanilla Milkshake.”

“Hm…” Sinclair shook his head. “It’s Strawberry all the way.”

You rolled your eyes before approaching the delivery driver, your badge clasped in your hand as you flashed it at her.

“I need to borrow your hat and jacket.”

It wasn’t hard to convince her. A cool story to tell in a bar over a couple of mojitos and she was sold. The jacket was baggy, fitting loosely over your bulletproof vest and sidearm. You slung the delivery bag over your shoulder, before tipping the peak of your cap to Sinclair and striding towards the front door. The burgundy paint was peeling, and the front yard had seen much better days, whatever they were spending the money on it wasn’t the upkeep of the house.

“Team Two is in position at the rear at the building.” Paul’s voice sounded over the ear piece. You ignored the way your nerves jangled at the timbre of his voice in your ear.

Sinclair and Lou followed you up the garden path, taking up residence on either side of the door. You could smell the weed permeating through the walls of the property as you stood before the door, preparing to knock.

“Team One in position.” Sinclair’s voice sounded before giving you the nod.

Your knuckles rapped on the door, scraps of crimson flaking onto your skin as you waited patiently. There was a shuffling on the opposite side, a slow shift as the locks were drawn back and Mickey’s face appeared. Bloodshot eyes, five o’clock shadow marring his jaw. His clothes looked slept in, the stench of pot clinging to him. He held the door wide, snatching up cash from the sideboard as you unzipped the waterproof coat, revealing your badge and bullet proof vest. Your Glock was already in your hand when he turned his attention back to you, his gaze falling on the gun pointed at his chest.

“NYPD.” You announced. “Put your hands on your head.”

You stepped into the building as Mickey complied.

“Team Two breach.” Sinclair uttered into the radio. You heard the back door slam open, smashing against the wall so loudly it practically vibrated through the house. A shout went up, an exclamation of surprise from another room.

Lou was already fastening the cuffs on Mickey’s wrists, his fingers curling in the guy’s collar as he yanked him towards the door. You pressed the button on your radio.

“Target One secure…”

You released the button as the gunshot rang out, cutting through the air like an explosion. Your gun swung up as plaster erupted from the wall behind you, spewing dust into the air. Sinclair was already beside you, hand on your shoulder and gun levelled at the oncoming threat. You weren’t sure which one of you saw the letters first, they were barely visible in the haze of plaster dust. However, Sinclair’s his grip relaxed almost as simultaneously as your gun dipped.

“It’s Russo…”

The first bullet impacted. A blossom of heat roaring through your chest as it smashed into you, sending you careening into the wall. Your right arm went numb, your Glock slipped from your fingers as the second one slammed into you, knocking the air right out of you chest. Your ears were ringing like crazy, black spots speckling your vision as your knees buckled.

You didn’t remember hitting the floor, only the explosion of light behind your eyes as your head bounced off the laminate. Excruciating pain lanced through your ribs as you tried to suck in a breath, a choked rasp leaving your lips. Sinclair’s face appeared in your vision; his lips were moving but you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in your head. He was trying to remove the vest, you felt it loosen as he unfastened the Velcro but it didn’t seem to make a difference. You still couldn’t fucking breathe.

The darkness was charging in, enveloping your vision with every stuttered gasp. You tried to fight it but you could feel yourself slipping backwards into the abyss.

Your fingers grasped Sinclair’s sleeve as you sank into oblivion, a final weak attempt to anchor yourself before you suffocated. There was no reprieve, no comfort, just this agony searing through your body as the shadows closed in.

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

Text

Rabid (JJK x Reader) 🐾☁️💜🔞

🐺Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🐺Genre: A/B/O AU!, Werewolf AU!, Angst, romance, smut

🐺Warnings: alpha!kookers and his omega!reader, impreg kink, shifting, hybrid Au, werewolf Au, bangtan pack!, primal sex, biting, scratching, scenting, marking, knotting, size kink, strength kink, praise kink oh yes, protective boi kook, Jungkook asserting dominance smh, omega being the cute ball of soft cotton candy she is, fighting, blood, violence, injuries, best alpha doggo boi Jungkook, heart to heart convos, degrading names and not the kinky ones sadly, puppies, I repeat, puppies 🐶, omega!Jin, Omega!Taehyung, Beta Yoongi, Alpha Namjoon, alpha Hoseok, Beta Jimin, don’t worry Omega doesn’t automatically mean submissive oh boy Nop Nop, just read the damn thing it’ll make sense okay, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐺Summary: Jeon Jungkook and his Omega are a mates couple of Bangtan Pack. Recently, the sweet bubble they’ve created seems to grow weaker and weaker, as a feral pack attacks and kills wolfs left and right. Things take a dark turn, and for once, the big bad wolf is actually terrified. Terrified of loosing you.

A pack's life wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, or comfort and protection.

Bangtan pack had learned that the hard way months ago, when Namjoons ex Mate had been violently attacked and killed. He'd mourned quite a bit, even though she'd been unfaithful and had refused to accept her own pups, leaving them with him and his pack as she'd continued her unbound lifestyle. It had still hurt him deeply- yet it was a thing that happened.

He got over it.

And he was happy again these days, as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with his two pups, who still weren't old enough to shift into their human forms. They would stay like that for a while longer, and sometimes Namjoon caught himself wishing that they could just stay like that forever- without having to worry too much about their human sides like he and his pack had to. But it would happen eventually, and he hoped they would grow up to be just as respectful and caring as the rest of his pack was.

Taehyung and Jin were, together with Jungkooks Mate, the only omegas of the pack. While you were the only one who would bear her own pups in the future, Taehyung and Jin took on the roles of caring for his children. He was glad he had them with him- he was not fit to be an only-father due to his alpha side. "What're you thinking about?" Yoongi, the pack's Beta asked from the sidelines, coffee in hand as he watched Taehyung and Jin play with the youngest of the pack, letting the young pups claw and bite their fur without much resistance.

"I'm glad things are returning to normal." He explained, and Yoongi nodded, when Jungkook and you stepped in from your recent grocery shopping trip. Namjoon laughed as the two excited pups immediately yapped and stumbled towards you, making you kneel down to greet them properly. He caught Jungkooks soft gaze on you immediately, already knowing that he would turn out to be a great father and alpha for his own litter in the future. "Everything okay out there?" The Alpha asked Jungkook, who nodded, although not too confident.

"We caught some scents near the borders when we returned, but it wasn't too evident. They probably only want to provoke again." He sighed out as he took the other plastic bags you had discarded next to you, placing them on the kitchen counter and sitting on the couch, next to yoongi. "Do you want me to patrol again?" He asked his leader, as he'd turned quiet and a bit thoughtful at his comment.

"No." He said, and Yoongi furrowed his brows. "If they want to provoke, let them. I'm not biting the bait." He explained, and Jungkook nodded, before he turned his head, having heard you shift. Namjoons mind eased up a little as he watched you, Tae and Jin groom the pups, motherly instincts growing more and more these days. "She'll be a great mother." He hummed, and Jungkook grinned, as if the praise was sent towards him. In a sense it was, because even though Namjoon had talked about his mate, he could hear his alpha inside his head.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇsᴛ. ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ.

You slowly detached yourself from them after a moment, walking over to Jungkook as you placed your head onto his thigh, careful not to interrupt the discussion he currently held with Yoongi. Almost as if on instinct his hand placed itself onto your head, large palm running over your soft fur, making your ears droop to the side a little to give him more room for his affection.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴜs.

Even though you sometimes disagreed with your omega, she was right on most occasions. You've had some small trust issues before you'd met Jungkook, being raised with the warning that Omegas were easily taken advantage of, you were wary of anyone around you. He'd slowly brought you out of your shell however, with promises you knew he'd keep and lots of understanding, communication, and affection. Nowadays, he could kick you around like he wanted, if he wanted to- you would still wag your tail and seek his praise straight after.

It should scare you, but you knew he would never let you down like that. He'd never betray your trust like that. Your whole pack would keep you safe.

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ᴋᴇᴇᴘs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘᴀᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Your head slipped from his thigh for a second as you'd almost fallen asleep, making Jungkook chuckle and Namjoon snort. You shyly laid down at Jungkooks feet, before he patted the space next to him on the couch. "Come up baby, you don't have to lay on the ground." He said, and you jumped up on the couch, halfway laying on his lap as he continued his talk, his voice lulling you to sleep.

"Hmm.. so sweet." He humms against your neck, as you slowly wake up. His hands are already running over your naked stomach, upwards to cup your chest in his palm, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. His eyes are still closed, and he only rumbles out something that almost sounds like a purr every now and then as his lips curl into a lazy but content smile, his nose burying itself into your neck where your scent is strongest. He opens his mouth to run his canines along the skin, before leaving an open mouthed kiss there, making you squirm around a bit in his hold. He moves his legs to cage yours in, as he chuckles when you whine against him. "So soft.. so warm.." He muses, still not quite awake yet you notice as your own body still fights the clouds of sleep as well.

sᴜᴄʜ ᴀ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

His alpha humms pleased inside his head, happy to have you close to him, satisfied to know you're in his arms. This is where he knows you're safe, where he knows nothing could happen to you.

He squeezes your breast a bit harder, before his thumb moves over your nipple, his deep brown eyes opening a crack to see your form next to him, relaxed and comfortable in his hold, and he feels proud. You're letting him see you so vulnerable, so bare of any form of guard up, you let him guide you however he feels fit for you, and his heart swells as your hands reach for his skin, desperate to feel him close, even though you already are. The times you felt self-conscious and shy at the mere fact you were naked were long gone by now. You felt comfortable around him, enough to know your bond is one without judgement. His eyes lock onto the bite mark still present on your neck, a prominent sign he carried as well, like a wedding band for humans, but way more final than that. It was as if he could see his future with you in the scar on your skin, and he loved every bit of it.

You suddenly playfully bite after his hand which tried to move some hair out of your face, and his eyes widen a bit at the gesture, making you open yours as well. The teasing glint awakes something inside him as you suddenly wiggle your legs around, trying to get on top of him as he grins, locking your legs with his as you whine, pushing at his chest as he chuckles. He grabs your wrist and tries to pin it down as you suddenly move your face to the side, nipping at his fingers without the intention to bite. "Hm, you wanna play?" He asks amused when you duck out of his grasp, only getting as far as laying your stomach over his side, legs still tightly interlocked with his. You claw at his back and he hisses for a moment, yet he doesnt seem mad about it at all as he moves his leg, giving you freedom. For a moment.

Before you can make it out of the bed he grabs your upper arm, pulling you against his chest as you hit his shoulder with the back of your head, now genuinely whining in frustration as he simply laughs. You struggle in his hold, uncaring of both of your nudeness and the way his prominent erection was poking against your lower back. You reach your arms over your head, trying to catch his skin with your fingers to claw at it, yet it only turns into your own demise as he simply raises his arm as well, palm easily catching your wrists and holding them above your head as his nose nuzzles against your neck teasingly.

You grin as he kisses and licks at your bonding mark, happily giving up your fight at this display of affection.

He finally moved around after throwing you backwards on the bed again, towering over your form as he roughly manhandles you around so you are placed on your stomach, before pulling your hips up, making you mewl as you instinctively present to him, making him groan as he leans down, his chest against your back as you could feel his erection between your legs. His hand reaches for your center, chest vibrating against your back as he humms approvingly when his fingers find you already wet and ready for him.

ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғᴏʀ ᴜs. His alpha cooes. ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ.

Jungkook lets his hand move a bit over your lower lips until he deems you prepared enough. His hand pumps his waiting length for a second, before he enters you quite roughly, sighing at the feeling of your warm walls around him. You felt like home, like comfort, like a safe space that only belonged to him.

ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ. ʙɪᴛᴇ.

He leans down his head, takes the skin of your neck between his teeth as he bites, before letting go, and repeating that action over and over again until he huffs against your skin in hot breaths. His one arm is hooked underneath your lower belly to keep you snug against him and positioned properly, while his other grabs at your chest roughly, making you mewl as he grunts, every thrust of his hips shaking your body a bit. You try to get up on your arms in front of him, as he suddenly leaves your breasts alone, instead grabbing the back of your neck before he pushes you into the pillows below, careful to let you breathe as you move your face to the side, blissed out expression showing him to keep going. His alpha slowly takes over, moves more to the surface as his voice is rough, low. You're not scared of him, however. You know, just like Jungkook, his alpha would never hurt you. Your Omega bathes in the praise he gives you, making you whine and gasp out when he suddenly slows down his pace, instead thrusting with more force and deeper into you as the sound of skin against skin echoes in the room.

"So warm.. So sweet.. So submissive.." He rumbles out as he mouthes at your shoulder, hot breath making your skin tingle as you grasp the sheets below you, your high slowly reaching its peak as he cooes. "Are you gonna cum little omega? Cum for your alpha?" He asks, and you simply not, drowsy mind having a hard time answering as he suddenly yanks at your hair, stopping everything for a moment as he keeps your head up, his face close to yours as he growls out. "I asked you a question Omega." He grits out. "You wanna play more little one?" He asks amused as you simply rut against his hips, making him growl as he picks up where he left off, his pace relentless as he chases his end, noticing the way you start to clench around him, needing him, wanting him, craving him just as much as he does.

"A-Alpha!" You groan out as you cum, and he bites down hard where your bonding mark lays, grunting out as he still thrusts without much rhythm, until you feel his warmth flood your walls. He sighes out, slowly growing lip against your back as his knot swells up, making you whine while he hushes you, moving a bit, careful not to pull too much as he spoons you, mouthing, licking, and kissing your neck and shoulder as your breathing calms down slowly. This is how you know Jungkook is back, the way he carefully moves the covers back over your bodies since he knows you get cold easily after sex, and the way he just.. doesnt say anything. He doesn't need to.

"Hm.. I can't wait for you to be filled with my pups." He humms out dreamily, drowsy and close to sleep. "All round and glowing. M' gonna protect you so well baby, gonna keep you safe and sound." He muses, and you nod, happily humming as your omega inside you rolls around in satisfaction.

ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴜs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʀʀʏ ʜɪs ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴜs.

He kisses the back of your neck one last time before he settles for another round of sleep.

"I don't feel good." You said at dinner once, and Jungkook immediately perked up at that.

"What do you mean? Are you sick?" He stressed, his overprotective nature coming to the surface as you scratched your neck, sheepishly shaking your head.

"No no, its not that!" You reassured him, before looking at Namjoon. "I mean, the entire situation. I know it's calm these days, but I don't know.." You admitted, and Jin placed a reassuring hand on your back.

"I get it. I guess it is a little weird." He said, and looked at Namjoon, who seemed in thought about the entire situation. Things have calmed down over the last few days, however, that was no reason to breathe out in relief. Things just calmed down so sudden and without any cause, that it made you feel as if something was off. It wasn't just you who felt like that but the entire pack, you knew this.

"We'll keep you safe either way." Jungkook promised from across you, and you nodded, continuing your dinner.

Things did not turn out well.

When you smelled the intruders, Jungkook had already gotten up from his spot in the front yard of your home in the woods, together with Namjoon and Hoseok already looking out for anyone getting close. It happened suddenly, when Yoongi shouted, shifting immediately as a wolf attacked from the sides.

The rest was utter chaos.

Everyone, you included, shifted into wolf forms, biting and clawing away at the strangers who seemed to snicker and laugh at everything going on. It was as if it was a game to them, as if they were playing- yet there was nothing playful in their nature, as they bit hard on Hoseoks leg, making him yelp as Taehyung jumped to help him. You were no fighter, so you did the only thing rational to you.

You immediately went inside, grabbing the first pup by his neck before you carried him underneath the stairs, rushing into the living room to get the other.

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴘᴜᴘs sᴀғᴇ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜᴘs.

Your omega was just as shaken as you were as you curled up around them, trying to soothe them the best you could as something crashed in the living room, heavy paws making its way towards you. You immediately positioned yourself in front of the terrified kids, which have scrambled into the smallest corner of the storage space under the stairs. Growling menacingly you tried to appear fearless in front of the dark grey wolf in front of you, who simply snapped its jaws at you. You ducked away from him, before you snapped at his leg, biting down hard before he managed to get a grip on your neck. You yelped as his teeth broke skin, but couldn't utter a sound as he pulled and pulled on your scruff, loosing grip before he bit again, another wound forming as you tried to desperately get out of his hold.

Another wolf joined in through the broken window in the kitchen, yapping like an excited hyena at the view of your fighting as he joined in, nipping and pushing you around with amusement as you tried to get them off of you, or at least keep their attention on you for as long as possible, so they wouldn't hurt the youngest.

The first wolf simply threw you down as you again bit his leg, tasting iron on your tongue as the stranger clawed at your backleg, biting and bruising skin as his teeth pulled mouthsfull of fur away from your body. The tufts of softness flew around in the air around you like feathers in a mere pillowfight, yet there was nothing sweet and innocent about this. You yelped out again, loudly, as you felt the skin around your backleg rip between the jaws of the stranger, making you immobile as the strangers suddenly decided to let you be, loosing their fun in you. You took this chance to scramble back to the terrified puppies, hiding them as you weakly curled up around them, your back facing away from them as they shivered, hiding underneath your bloody fur in desperate need of warmth and comfort. You wished you could soothe them, but you couldn't lift your head, blood sticky underneath your body as you tried to stay awake.

They snarl something along the lines of 'leaving the alphas bitch' alone, as they snicker outside, making you feel even worse than you did before.

You knew that Jungkook saw you as more than a mere Omega meant to please him and raise his offspring. You knew that he wasn't blinded by his instincts, and even if he was, his alpha was such a sweet existence which fit your own omega so well that it sometimes made you cry. You fall into a slumber, a vision of your past consuming you whole, as if to comfort your broken body.

"..y. Baby?" He asks you, as your head snaps up from where it rested on your palm. He smiles at you with slight worry, as he points at your pancakes in front of you. "Your food's getting cold baby." He says, and you blush as you look down at your plate, barely touched at all.

sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ғᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ!

He sighed in front of you, moving the plate towards him as he cuts a piece, holding the fork towards you with an almost teasing grin. "Looks like I'm gonna have to feed you the old fashioned way." He says, and you take the bite as he grins his signature bunny smile. It makes him look so soft and happy, the way his eyes crinkle at the sides and his nose scrunches up. "Can't have my baby starve." He continues, as he cuts another piece. His alpha is weirdly happy about the situation.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ғᴇᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ.

He hates to do it, but he knows its necessary. "Whats on your mind?" He asks, and he visibly sees your shoulders slump down, as if he'd just taken your favorite book away. "I can see something is troubling you. Please talk to me." He asks. I want to help you, he wants to say, but he keeps it at his words as you slowly take a deep breath.

"They're saying things about me." You start, as he frowns.

"What things?" He asks, voice now a bit more serious. He knows who 'they' are- he knows that you talk about your classmates. He hates to see you being bullied, yet it happens, and you had told him again and again that he can't interfere, not so close to your graduation. You just want things to be done with.

"You're not gonna like 'em." You start, and he nods.

"Probably not. I promise I'm not gonna set your school on fire. But you need to talk to someone about it, and if not me than maybe Jin or Tae-" He continues, until you cut him off.

"Whore." You start, as his eyes widen. It seems as if he's frozen in time for a moment, before his gaze is on you again. "They.. they say I'm.. that you only keep me around because-" You try not to get too riled up as you recall their words. "-because I'm an omega thats good to fuck. Because I'm brainless, and the brainless ones are the best because they don't talk back and just choke on-" Jungkook cuts you off as he holds your hand.

"Stop." He mutters, and you simply look at the wooden table of the small restaurant you both are sitting in, as he sighes. "You're so much more to me than your body." He explains, and you melt under his gaze. "You're my mate, my partner for life, you're the part of my soul I didn't even knew I was missing." He continues, as he holds out another piece of sweetness in front of your lips, as your teary eyes gaze at him. "Their words mean nothing, okay? I love you. And only you." He says, as you take the bite from him. "You could ban me from your vagina for the next years to come and I'd still love you." He mutters playfully, as your cheeks redden.

You really do feel loved.

Jungkook had heard your first yelp loud and clear, and it threw him so off guard that he lost focus for a moment, giving a wolf opportunity to jump up on him. He fought him off with a bit of effort, trying to get inside the house as he became more and more desperate as your cries reached his sensitive ears, making him grown more and more feral in his state of mind.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʜᴜʀᴛ! ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ɪɴ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ! ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ!

His alpha is restless, pretty much yells into his ears and he swore he would, he swore he would get to you but he couldn't. There were too many.

After a moment of seemingly endless fighting, Namjoon snaps the neck of another alphawolf, successfully ending the attack as the rest of the rogue pack leaves with whines and tails between their legs. Jungkook breathes for a moment, before a certain smell reaches his nose. He locks eyes with Namjoon, who had seemingly noticed it as well, before the big black wolf dashed into the house, stopping dead in his tracks at the scene of the trashed living room and open kitchen, blood and fur scattered around as the irony smell gets almost too much for his sensitive nose.

He can't see you, however.

Your blood and fur show him that you didn't hide successfully, and his heart races as he walks through the mess that is the main space of the house, before his ears catch the whimpering of pups.

There, underneath the stairs in the corner you're laying down. Your back is facing him, blood and saliva staining your fur, as you barely breathe. The pups, smelling the familiar pack, scramble out from underneath your paws, crawling over your body as they rush towards their father, who eagerly inspects them immediately. Jungkook has absolute tunnel vision in that moment however, as he noticed your lack of movement.

He's moving on pure instinct at this point, delicately grabbing your scruff as he carefully pulls you out of your hiding space, but not fully out in the open. He whines and whimpers at your form, limply laying on the ground as you barely breathe, making him restless as he walks from one side to the other, unsure what to do. His mind is in a frenzy, alpha going crazy, as he nudges you every now and then with his snout, silently begging you to get up. He gets pulled away from this however, when he noticed Jin walking towards him. He knows he's no threat. He knows he's pack. But he's not himself in that moment.

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ.

His alpha growls at him, and he does the same, as he scrambles to stand above your form, tail standing diagonal being him as his ears tall as he growls out low and dangerously, for the first time actually showing intention to attack his own brothers. Jin stays still as everyone watches from their spots, witnessing for the first time how their pack member turns against them.

'Jungkook-' Jin tries to communicate, but the younger alpha continues to growl, feet never standing still as he seems restless. As if he doesn't know what to do. He looks like a young wolf in that moment, scared, confused, and painfully upset. His smell is bitter and strong, sending of a warning to everyone in the room as his ears start to slowly droop.

'Protect. I have to protect. Don't- don't come here-!' he sends off, tail slowly moving downwards as he starts to feel the exhaustion in his bones. He slowly but surely moves around again on weak legs, laying down close to you as he leans his front legs over your body, licking your fur as if that would magically heal you.

'Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!' He chants over and over again, every word growing more and more high pitched and choked up as Taehyung lays down in sadness, feeling his brothers emotions full force, as well as everyone else who can't do anything but watch the young alpha fall apart. 'wake up..' he begs, burying his face into your bloody fur as he finally gives in. 'Please.. don't leave me.' are his last words, as his mind fades.

Jin is quick to shift, as well as Namjoon and Yoongi, who immediately move the larger and heavier wolf off of you, before Taehyung can take you away with Hoseok. Jungkook slowly shifts back unconsciously as they lay him on the couch, no one having enough energy to bring him upstairs. Jin tends to his wounds as Taehyung and Hoseok bring you up the stairs into yours and Jungkooks room, as you slowly shift, making Taehyung gasp as he now sees the extend of your injuries.

There are cuts and puncture wounds all over your skin, scratches and bruises already blossoming. Your leg is the worst, open flesh gaping as he has to swallow, telling Hoseok what he needs in order to tend to your injuries.

Moments later, Jin steps into the room as well, helping his younger omega brother to care for you the best that they could before an actual doctor could take a look at you tomorrow.

"She'd told us something was off." Namjoon said with his head hanging low, arms scratched and bleeding as he watches from the doorway. "I should've listened to her." He continues, before Jin cuts in, not looking at his alpha as he continues to wash you gently.

"Self-pity won't help anyone in this situation now, Namjoon." He says, no real bite in his tone as he keeps his voice gentle, exhaustion evident however. Taehyung helps him wring out the wet cloth he's using to clean your skin, as he continues. "Things happened, and now we have to deal with the aftermath. We'll get through this, but only if we don't loose our heads over this." He explaines, the image of the youngest alpha not leaving his mind. "It's bad enough we have two of us down- her and Jungkook." He explains, as Taehyung voices his worries as well.

"Do you think he'll snap out of it?" He asks, as Namjoon chimes in.

"He has to." He says, and Jin turns around for the first time, lower lip bruised from a cut he'd received.

"Namjoon, don't be so harsh on the kid-" He starts, but gets cut off by his leader.

"He's not a kid anymore Jin. He's a full grown alpha that needs to get himself together." He argues, as Taehyung starts to defend his brother.

"No, he's a boy who almost lost his girl tonight, have some common sense!" He whines out, a low growl hinting in his tone that catches Namjoon off guard. Even Jin seems surprised. "We all accepted it when you grieved. So let him heal as well- you can't expect something like this to just go past him." He explains, as the alpha sighs.

"I'm a horrible leader, am I not?" He asks, and Jin smiles along with Tae as he answers.

"No." He answers, with a comforting gaze. "Because you listen to your pack. And the best leaders do exactly that. They listen to their pack, learn from their mistakes, and admit them if they happen." He humms, before opening his small kit to get out some cotton balls and desinfectant.

Namjoon simply nods, hoping that his oldest Omega is right.

Jungkook awakes rudely from his dreamless sleep as he finds himself on the living room couch, dressed in comfortable clothes. For a moment he hopes everything had been a dream, but his aching bones and the mild smell in the air tell differently. He sits up, noticing the now cleaned living room, and the window that had been fixed with wooden planes for now. He can smell the rain outside as Jin steps down the stairs, locking eyes with Jungkook who immediately scrambles up, rushing towards him. "Where is she? Is she okay? She's okay right? She's fine right?" He rushes out, and watches past the eldest as Jimin thanks a stranger in a white coat and familiar hospital clothing. He doesnt listen to anybody as he moves past them upstairs, almost tripping as he opens the door to see you asleep underneath your covers, a butterfly stitch above your eyebrow. His eyes glaze over as his mind begins to fog, his feet moving him as if on autopilot as he walks towards you, unconsciously shifting.

Jimin wants to scold him to leave you alone, but the doctor shakes his head. Jungkook is so careful that even Yoongi who has joined the scene seems surprised. He moves as if you're made out of eggshells as thin as paper, carefully placing himself next to you above the covers Head resting on your stomach as he simply relishes in the mere fact that you're breathing. He barely fits on the bed made for two humans, but everyone lets him.

Jimin softly closes the door, before everyone walks downstairs.

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" He asks the doctor as he puts on his shoes. He sighes.

"Not much, I'd say, let him be close to her. It would only make them both more anxious if you keep them apart from one another." He explains, as Jimin and Yoongi bid the man goodbye and a safe trip home. Closing the door, Jin sighs, sitting down in the living room after folding the blanket Jungkook had slept under. Namjoon walks into the room, his arm still bandaged as he asks about the mated couple.

"Is he okay?" He asks, knowing about your condition already. "I've never seen him like that." He humms out, and Jimin shrugs.

"I don't think anyone ever has." He exclaims, and Namjoon nods, before taking the blanket from jin.

He carefully walks upstairs, opening the door of their room as Jungkooks ears perk up, the rest of him unmoving. The older alpha smiles sympathetically at his younger brother, closing the door behind him as he slowly walks towards them both. "Is that okay?" He asks carefully, as Jungkook simply closes his eyes again, a silent way of agreeing him this close. He drapes the blanket over the large black wolf, careful to tuck you underneath it as well as he sits down on the mattress, close to your hip. "She's gonna be okay." He said, as he looked at your sleeping form, Jungkooks head lifting itself to reposition. He sighed out a breath as the alpha chuckled. "Don't get huffy now pup. She's a strong one." Jungkooks eyes move to look at the elder one, and he sees something in it that Namjoon has not seen many times. Fear.

Namjoons eyes turn gentle as he looks at you for a moment, before he humms out. "You did well."

When you walk downstairs, the entire kitchen grows silent, and you look up to see them all looking at you. Jungkook starts to choke on his food as he coughs, legs of the chair he is sitting on scraping on the tiles as he rushes towards you, carefully taking you into his arms as he holds you close. He breathes in your scent as he suddenly chokes up, violent sobs shaking his shoulders as he cries against your neck, tearfully kissing your bonding mark as you simply pet his head, smoothing out his hair as you try to calm him down. The rest of the pack has a similar expression on their faces, as Jin stands up to get another set of dishes and cutlery for you. Jungkook helps you down the last two steps as he leads you towards the kitchen table, uncaring of his still tear stained face. He sniffles, and Taehyung gives him a napkin with a teasing grin. He simply takes it, wiping his nose before he grabs at your hip, setting you onto his lap as you try to sit down on your chair.

He doesn't continue eating as he simple rests the side of his head against your shoulder, holding you close as he breathes in your scent. His alpha slowly calms down as you eat and move around, proving to him that you were actually there, that you were alive and well enough for now.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs sᴀғᴇ.

You thank jin as he pours you a cup of tea, when you turn towards Namjoon. "How are the pups?" You ask, wondering where they are as Namjoon smiles proudly.

"They're safe, and asleep upstairs." He says, and you nod, taking a sip of the warm beverage. "Thank you, by the way." He says, and you raise your eyebrows. "You did very well Omega. They're only safe thanks to you, and I owe you everything for it." He grows serious as you chuckle.

"It's my part of the pack Namjoon." You explain as you pick up your cutlery to stuff some rice into your mouth that Jungkook didn't finish. "I did what I had to." He humms in appreciation, as Jungkook silently rubs his cheek against the fabric of your sweater, the scent sending him into a mindset of pure comfort. He doesn't listen to anything being said, and you simply rest a hand on his arms that held you close to him. He noticed how cold they are, and immediately scrambles a bit to remove his zip hoodie, uncaring that he's only wearing a T-Shirt underneath as he placed the warm fabric over your shoulders.

ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍ. ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀғᴇ.

You chuckle a bit at the gesture, and Taehyung does the same. "He's gonna be like that for quite a while I guess." Yoongi comments, eyes holding a soft look as he watches the young alpha with you.

Jimin smiles as well as he places some meat onto yours- or more like Jungkooks abandoned- plate which you thank him for. "Let him be. I can't imagine what he must've felt like." He says, as you nod, before taking another bite.

"Let's see how long it takes for Y/N to grow tired of that man-pup." Hoseok comments, making everyone snort but Jungkook, who lowly growls, without much seriousness behind him. It sounds more like.. he's offended. He looks over your shoulder at his pack, as they all start to laugh, you included.

The night is warm and cozy as Jungkook notices how you grow restless. You slowly gather pillows and sheets, blankets and clothing into the bed as he watches you tiredly. He wonders what you're doing for a moment, until he sniffs the air for a moment, eyes widening.

ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ.

His alpha is proud, and his soul swells as well as he helps you nest, holds you close as he can't stop his smile. His palm rests protectively over your stomach during this night, as his alpha howls in happiness.

ᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜᴘs. ᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ.

And Jungkook couldn't agree more with his alpha in that moment. He couldn't wait to complete his family.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #alpha jungkook #abo dynamics #omega reader

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debbiechanclub · 3 years ago

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Know You Better Now (BTOOT sequel), Part 2

Probably not the best idea to drop this right after Extreme Rules, but I can’t wait because 😭 And that’s all I’m gonna say. Thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

Know You Better Now

Part: 2/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @heelchampbucks @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

“Did you see the look on PAC’s face when he realized Alex broke up the pin? He was so-ho-ho piiiissed.”

Nick could barely finish speaking before he emitted a laugh that sounded more like an asthmatic wheeze, and everyone else joined in, the boisterous boom bouncing off the walls of The Elite locker room and making Alex’s ears ring. She’d never felt so out of place.

“He looked like an angry gremlin,” Karl piled on. He contorted his face and hands and made everyone guffaw and bark even louder. Alex rolled her eyes. Out of all of them, Karl annoyed her the most.

“Yeah, that was quick thinking, Alex,” Matt said. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

He sent her a crooked, shit-eating grin. Had he not tacked on that last part, it might have been half a compliment. But he knew exactly what he was doing—and Alex did not have the patience for it.

“Us? Last time I checked, Kenny is the AEW Champion, not The Elite.”

The room went dead silent. Matt’s smirk vanished.

“Don’t act like you know anything about The Elite,” he bit. “You’ve been here all of two seconds. We were selling out the Tokyo Dome when you were still working bingo halls.”

“Whoa!” Kenny interjected. “Watch who the hell you’re talking to like that, Matt.”

The atmosphere went from shocked to tense; palpable. Matt’s jaw flexed, obviously embarrassed to have been put in his place in front of the boys. Alex smirked. He deserved it.

Kenny sighed into the quiet. “Alright, you know what? Everyone out.”

“What?” Gallows balked. “We gotta celebrate your big win, man—”

Don cut him off. “You heard what he said, everyone out!”

He herded them all toward the exit, and other than a few side-eyes and under-breath comments, they went without argument. It was the first time Alex had ever been thankful for Don to step in.

The door fell closed, and Alex and Kenny were left alone. His eyes were much softer than they’d been just a few seconds before.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’ll take a lot more than that for Matt to get to me.”

“I know, but he shouldn’t have said it at all. It was out of line.”

“It’s Matt. What do you expect?” she returned. It made Kenny purse his lips in disappointment.

“He’s not out to get you, Alex. He’s just protective of his friends.”

Her eyes darkened. “Is there a reason he thinks he needs to protect you from me?”

He breathed out in frustration. “Come on, that’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I wish you two would get along.”

Alex stubbornly crossed her arms and looked across the room. This wasn’t the first time he’d said that to her. She knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey.” Kenny gently gripped her shoulders, and she looked back up at him. “I want you to feel like you’re a part of the group, Alex. And I know right now you don’t,” he quickly added before she could interject. “But give it time. You’ve been at home working on getting healthy, and the boys just want to be sure that you’re a team player. Which… I’m pretty sure you proved you are tonight.”

She lightly sucked her teeth. “I did that for you, not—”

“I know,” softly interrupted. “But any of them would have done the same thing.”

Alex rocked back on her heels and turned her eyes down to her shoes. She understood where Kenny was coming from, one thousand percent. But she didn’t think she should have to prove herself to “the boys.” And truthfully… she didn’t want to be a part of The Elite, either.

But she also didn’t want to get into an argument with Kenny, so she just let it go. “Well, thank you for putting Matt in his place,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew herself close to him. “I’ll do my best to get along with him so long as he’s not an ass to me.”

“That’s all I want,” Kenny returned, and he placed a kiss on her lips that was perhaps meant to be short and sweet, but neither of them pulled away. He brought his hands to either side of her face, and she pressed her fingers into his back as she lightly sucked on his bottom lip. He smirked against her mouth. “You want to get in the shower with me?”

She pecked his lips again. “No.”

He pulled back in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because. I look way too good right now to ruin it.”

He flashed a crooked grin. She already knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Fine. I’ll just ruin it when we get home.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had honestly hoped Kenny would ruin it when they got home. But unfortunately, they didn’t go home alone; Matt, Nick, and Don went with them. At least the Good Brothers had decided they’d rather go drink at the hotel bar.

“So, have you officially moved in yet, Alex?”

Nick smirked at her from across the kitchen island, his mouth full of pizza. They’d ordered some “late night celebratory pies,” as Kenny had put it, but Alex didn’t have much of an appetite. She didn’t dignify Nick with a response either, instead just pursing her lips and taking a sip of the red wine she’d poured herself. As if he wouldn’t have already known if she’d officially moved in; he was one of Kenny’s best friends.

“Shit, I forget that she doesn’t ‘officially’ live here,” Kenny commented, making air quotes around the word. “It already feels like you do. Isn’t most of your stuff here?”

“Most of my clothes are,” she answered. “But I still have an entire house full of stuff in Virginia.”

“Wasn’t your cousin interested in potentially buying from you?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose. She asked me if I was thinking about selling, but we haven’t discussed it.”

“Well… maybe you should.”

He sent her a grin. She chewed the inside of her lip. “Maybe,” she returned, and took another sip of wine.

“Speaking of official,” Don segued. “Is Alex officially with us now?”

Alex stiffened. She didn’t at all appreciate that Don had spoken as if she wasn’t standing right there. But she couldn’t really answer him, either.

“Come on, why wouldn’t she be?” Kenny returned.

“Because tonight was the first time she’s been on AEW programming in what—nine months?” He fixed Alex with his beady eyes and finally addressed her directly. “People still think of you as part of Best Friends. And even though you broke up that pin in Kenny’s interest, the fact of the matter is that you technically helped Orange, too.”

“What?” Kenny let out a loud, disbelieving laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Don! She would have done the exact same thing if it had been Orange going for the pin instead of PAC.”

“Would she?” Matt challenged. He glanced at Alex. “Would you?”

Kenny’s eyes widened at him. “Really, Matt?” he charged—but Alex spoke up.

“No, if they’re so concerned about it, then I’ll tell them.” She leaned forward on the island and looked Matt dead in the eye. “Of course I would have done the exact same thing if it had been Orange going for the pin instead of PAC. And you know why? Because I was out there in Kenny’s corner tonight, and tonight was the first time in months that I’ve seen or even spoken to Orange or any of the others. So no, I’m not a part of Best Friends anymore.”

It hurt to finally say that out loud; but it wasn’t anything Alex hadn’t already known deep down. She’d known it as soon as Kris had popped out of that claw machine a month ago… maybe even sooner. And their behavior toward her that night—Trent’s behavior—had only proven it.

Kenny wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a kiss on the side of her head. Matt, meanwhile, said nothing. It seemed she’d finally shut him up—for now.

Don nodded. “That’s all I need to hear.”

Alex shifted. Somehow, she doubted that.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Nick interjected. “Do you guys have any ice cream?”

“Jesus, Nick,” Matt breathed; but Kenny perked up.

“We do, actually. Alex has turned me onto Blue Bell.” He started for the freezer. “Do you want some, baby? We still have mint chocolate chip.”

Alex shook her head. “No. I’m actually gonna head upstairs; I’m exhausted.”

Part of her knew that, by going to bed, she was only inviting them to talk about her more. But she didn’t care. Matt could spew whatever bullshit he wanted; Kenny knew where she stood, and that was all that mattered.

He nodded. “Okay. I’m honestly not far behind you.”

She put her wine glass in the sink and gave him a kiss on the way out of the kitchen. Her legs were tired as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Our bedroom, she realized she thought of it as, not Kenny’s bedroom. She wasn’t sure when she’d made that switch, but she was hyper-aware of it now after Kenny’s comment just a few minutes before. But just the thought of selling her house stressed her out; she had enough on her plate as it was, and she didn’t want to give any of it any more of her energy for the rest of the night—

Beep-beep!

But she got a text just as she crossed into the bedroom. She sighed and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans—and stopped when she saw the screen.

It was from Trent.

I’m sorry about what I said tonight. I just didn’t know how to react.

Alex’s brow lowered as she read the message. She knew Trent, and something in her gut told her that he hadn’t sent that on his own. No; Kris had probably beat him over the head until he’d relented. He would have been better off not sending anything at all.

She purposefully opened the text so that he would get the “read” notification, and then she locked her phone, tossed it onto the bed, and went into the bathroom to do her nighttime routine. If there was one thing she definitely would not give any more of her energy to, it was that.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Dynamite following Double Or Nothing wasn’t until Friday, so Alex had nearly an entire week to mentally prepare herself. She needed the extra time. Because, in the interest of “publicly clearing up any confusion” about where her loyalties lied, Don had booked her a sit-down interview with Excalibur.

She’d been furious when he’d told her. So had Kenny—he’d set it up behind both their backs. But of course, Don had talked him down and convinced him that it was “the right move.” Afterward, Kenny had profusely apologized to her; but she’d just told him to forget it. She’d do the damn interview. She wanted to speak her mind.

But now that she was sitting across from Excalibur in one of the backstage areas at Daily’s Place, she felt like she might vomit.

He spoke to the camera as he opened up the interview. “I’m sitting here with Alex Hawthorne, who made a surprise return after a nine-month absence at Double Or Nothing this past Sunday… and before we get into the interview, Alex, I just want to say welcome back. You were gone rehabbing a shoulder injury, and you’ve clearly come back in fighting shape. I think we all did a double-take when you walked out with Kenny Omega on Sunday.”

Alex felt herself relax a bit. It felt good to be acknowledged. She hadn’t felt that in a while. “Thank you, Excalibur, I appreciate that. It feels good to be back, and I have come back in fighting shape—not just physically, but mentally, as well. When I found out that my shoulder needed surgery, it was a bitter pill to swallow. And I’m not gonna lie; I struggled with it at first. But I distinctly remember waking up in that post-op room after surgery, and I realized right then and there that I could either let this injury drag me down, or I could use it as an opportunity to come back even better than before. And I promise you—and the entire AEW women’s division—that this isn’t the same Alex Hawthorne who competed in that ring nine months ago.”

Excalibur nodded. “Which begs the question: when can we expect you back in the ring?”

She breathed out. “Soon,” she nodded, her tone determined. “I still have some work to do, but it’ll be soon.”

“And we all look forward to it,” he said. “But you mentioned that you’re not the same Alex Hawthorne you were nine months ago. We’re used to seeing you at ringside in support of Best Friends… however, you returned in Kenny Omega’s corner for the AEW World Championship match at Double or Nothing, a match that also included Orange Cassidy. Is it safe to say that this new and improved Alex Hawthorne has moved on from Best Friends?”

Alex’s heart jumped into her throat. There it was, the million-dollar question, the reason for this entire interview, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think Don had fed that line directly to Excalibur. But he didn’t like Don any more than she did—and she needed to give an answer. So, she did.

“It’s safe to say that, yeah.”

Her stomach churned and she looked down at her hands in her lap. It was out there now. She couldn’t take it back.

“Well, I have to ask,” Excalibur started, and she flicked her eyes back up at him. “You interfered in the match on Sunday and most likely prevented PAC from winning the AEW World Championship. But you also prevented Orange from taking the pin. Is there no part of you that did that for him?”

Alex’s brow lowered. First Don, and now this? Why was everyone so confused about her motive? “No. I did that for Ken—”

“Who cares who ya did it for!”

She was abruptly cut off by an angry, distinctly accented voice, and then PAC unexpectedly stalked into the interview area. He fixed Alex with a wild-eyed glare. “It’s like Excalibur said… you cost me the AEW World Championship.”

Alex leaned away from him in her chair as he moved closer. The entire sight of him was jarring, that ubiquitous scowl of his contorting his face, his dark, wet hair dripping water down his bare chest. She looked him over in confusion. Why was he already in his gear, ready to go? He and Penta had a match that night against the Young Bucks, but the show didn’t start for another two hours.

Excalibur tried to intervene. “PAC, we’re doing an interview here—”

But PAC just talked over him. “I know you’ve been gone a long time, Alex. And I have to admit, you do look good. So, here’s a bit of advice: instead of interfering in his matches, why don’t ya stick to being Kenny Omega’s arm candy.”

Alex’s eyes darkened. Suddenly, all her surprise turned to anger. “Arm candy?”

“You heard me,” he spat.

“Do you even own regular clothes? Or do you just live in your gear dripping wet like you emerged from the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Hey, PAC!”

Another person interrupted then, and Alex and PAC both looked over to find the Young Bucks, Brandon Cutler, and the Good Brothers stalking toward them. But it wasn’t just them. They had Rey Fenix—and it looked like he’d already been jumped.

Matt smirked. “Did you lose something?”

PAC growled in his throat. He charged toward them—but they dumped Fenix to the floor and retreated, laughing as they did. Nick held up his hands. “We’re saving our energy for the match tonight!”

PAC let them go, choosing instead to help his friend. Meanwhile, Alex jumped up and ran after them—the interview was over.

“Hey!” They all turned to look back at her, but her focus was zeroed in on Matt. This was his doing, she knew it. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

He scoffed. “To send a message, obviously. Come on, Alex… I thought you were with us now?”

He flashed another crooked smirk, and then they all started off again, patting each other on the back and hyping the Bucks up for the match that night. And Alex just stood and watched them go, all the while realizing that she was with them now—and she’d all but said it for the entire world to hear.

* * * * * * * * * *

“You ready to head home?”

Alex looked up at Kenny, re-emerging from her thoughts. She nodded. “Please.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile and held out his hand, and she took it and let him pull her up and lead her out of the locker room. It was the end of the night, and she’d been ready to head home before a single match had even been contested.

To her great surprise, Dynamite had started off by airing the footage of her interview. Alex had barely been able to watch, knowing what was coming, what she’d said. But when it was all said and done, it didn’t even feel like it was about her anymore. The interview had led right into the tag match between the Young Bucks and PAC and Penta—the story became the Super Elite’s attack on Fenix, not her return. And Alex wasn’t sure if she was more relieved that they’d distracted from the fact that she’d basically disowned Best Friends, or more angered that they’d taken away from everything else she’d said.

“I am ready to just relax and spend the weekend alone with you,” Kenny said as they walked down the hall. He grinned at her. “I told everyone to lose my number.”

Alex returned his smile, and Kenny lifted the back of her hand to his lips; but she barely noticed as he kissed her. She was too distracted by the group of people who had appeared in the corridor.

Best Friends. All of them. And it didn’t take long for Trent to say something.

“Where’re you going, Alex? Kris has a Dark match. Oh, wait—that’s right. You’ve moved on from us.”

“Dude,” Kris chastised and lightly smacked his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Kenny scoffed. “I’d listen to your alien friend, Trent.”

“No one was talking to you,” Orange returned.

Kenny narrowed his eyes at him. Alex squeezed his hand in protest; the last thing she needed was for him to go on one of his power trips. Thankfully, he let it go.

“I’ve already taken care of you, so I won’t embarrass you in front of your friends,” he dismissed. “Come on,” he said, and he started to pull Alex past them; but Trent just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Was that you giving that interview? Or were Kenny and Don pulling the strings on your mouth?”

“Fuck, Greg,” Chuck breathed—but Alex spoke over him.

“Was that you who sent that text Sunday night, or did one of them make you send it?”

She glared a hole through Trent, unwavering and angry, waiting for him to say something for himself. Anything. But he just bit down on his jaw, silent. Alex scoffed. It was just as she’d suspected.

“What text?” Kenny asked in confusion. Alex didn’t take her eyes off Trent as she answered.

“Trent sent me a text after Double Or Nothing apologizing for being a dick to me before your match. He said he ‘just didn’t know how to react’ to seeing me.”

“I didn’t know how to react,” Trent fired back.

“Oh, so it was just the apology that was bullshit, then.”

He breathed out and looked stubbornly away, nothing to say again. And as she continued to stare at him, Alex realized that she wasn’t surprised or even hurt by his reaction. Instead, she was vindicated in everything she’d been feeling.

Her gaze sharpened. “But since you asked so nicely; yeah, that was me giving that interview, one hundred percent. And you have no room to be angry about it, Trent, because whether you want to admit it or not, you all moved on from me months ago.”

Chuck’s brow furrowed in confusion. In hurt. “What? Alex—”

“Save it,” Kenny cut him off. “Good luck in your match, Kris,” he added, and then he tugged on Alex’s hand, and she turned and went with him, ignoring the way her sinuses burned.

#kenny omega fanfiction #kenny omega fanfic #matt jackson fanfiction #matt jackson fanfic #the elite fanfiction #the elite fanfic #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #best friends fanfiction #best friends fanfic #pac fanfiction #pac fanfic

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?”

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite #bucky series #tfatws x reader

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l4verq · 4 years ago

Text

remnants (3) | r.d

ransom drysdale x reader

in which you have to protect ransom drysdale because he has the same face as steve rogers, your ex who’s gone back to peggy.

warnings : mentions of panic attacks

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist 💗

ʀᴇᴍɴᴀɴᴛꜱ

*not my gif*

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

your eyes frantically looks around the outstretched hands, each holding up a rock.

bucky yells a cry of victory while you groan, glaring at your hands holding up ‘scissors’.

ransom rolls his eyes, “you guys hate me that bad?”

upon arriving to the hydra base after a long, long road trip, ransom grumbling about the music, sam screaming about how marvin gaye remains superior, you just couldn’t seem to catch a break.

because of course, you’d lose in this stupid game of rock, paper and scissors and of course, be forced to stay back with ransom in the car while sam and bucky scoped out the base for “any traps”.

“alright, we’ll be back in a few,” sam puts on his goggles, “but if we’re not-.”

“then we run.” ransom interrupts, pointing at you and him.

you have to bite back a smile seeing sam’s unamused face.

“then we go see if anything’s wrong.” you correct ransom, giving him a look.

“actually, no. he’s right, just run.” bucky ponders over it.

ransom scoffs under his breath and looks at you.

you’re smiling sof-

wait, were you actually smiling? at what that shaggy dude just said or more precisely, repeated?

“we’re obviously not running. it was a joke.” ransom clarifies, glancing over at bucky.

bucky’s vibranium arm locks in place, returning ransom’s stare, air getting unnecessarily tense.

they just look dumb, atleast to you.

sam claps his hand, “ok, so no one’s running. let’s go.”

he deploys red wing, the scarlet gadget humming off into the sky.

bucky gives you a nod, trailing behind sam, headed towards the entry door.

an awkward silence ensues, crickets violently chirping in the moonlit night.

“how’s your hand?” ransom clears his throat, adjusting his stance.

he’d been meaning to ask since yesterday but he just.. couldn’t.

“been better.” you flare your sore hands in front of you, tilting your head.

even though there weren’t any external wounds, you knew all of the damage was inside, lurking behind layers of flesh.

“so, you really did break your hands to get out of the chains?” he questions, eyebrow quirked.

“if you put it like that, i sound crazy.” you cross your arms, leaning against the car next to him.

he chuckles, a loud - almost obnoxious - sound that startles you a little.

steve never laughed like that, even when he did, it always felt like he was holding back, had his guard up.

“y/n, do you copy?” sam’s voice crackles in your ear, courtesy of the ear comm.

ransom springs to his feet, hand on his ear.

he’d asked for an ear comm as well to which everyone respectfully declined.

but after two hours of whines and grumbles about why he wants one, bucky practically flung that flesh coloured, pea sized gadget at him.

“we’re here.” he barks a little too loud.

“yea, we can hear you.” bucky mutters, annoyance laced in every word.

“you can speak normally.” you inform ransom, who flashes a thumbs up with a “got it.”

“there doesn’t seem to be mu-.”

static takes over, cutting sam off, you and ransom both flinching at the sudden blare in your ears.

you immediately cock your gun, reach into the car to pull out a flashlight and hand it to ransom.

“stay behind me.” you order, “we’re going through the back.”

“is there even one?”

“let’s find out.” you grab a flashlight as well.

you’re light on your feet, with careful, calculated steps.

ransom.. you couldn’t exactly blame him, he’s just a normal guy.

a normal guy who’s made it his goal to step on every single fallen leaf, producing this god awful crunching sound in the dead of the night.

“a little quieter?”

he starts tip-toeing, stumbling around.

you walk round the building, well what’s left of it.

it’s in bad shape, the entire building, hanging on by decaying bricks covered in mold.

it looks like it might’ve been around 3-4 stories high but it’s impossible to know now.

“there it is.” you whisper, flashlight pointed towards a door labelled EXIT.

on closer inspection, the knob is broken, only a hole where it used to be.

the hinges creak as you push the door open with ease, uncertain how the door didn’t fall right off because it was barely holding on.

gun in hand, flashlight on top, left foot forward, supporting your dominant one, just like you’ve been trained.

“this is how people die in movies.” ransom whispers, peeking inside the dark room.

you glare back at him, shushing him.

he clamps his forefinger and thumb together, dragging it along his lips, pretends to lock it and hands you the key.

“just search for a switch.” you mutter, looking straight infront again.

you aim your flashlight around, taking small steps inside.

clang.

you damn near jump out of your skin, finger already curled around the trigger, ready to pull when you whip around.

“sorry.” ransom mumbles, hands trailing around the wall, looking for a switch.

“i nearly shot you!” you whisper yell, lowering your gun.

the light flickers on, your eyes nearly blinded by it.

you look around, vision slowly adapting to the lit up room.

it’s a workstation with sewing machines?

the red, white and blue bits of cloth catch your eyes as you inch neare-

thud.

“y/n!” ransom shouts, but it’s distant.

too distant.

“yea, i’m here! i fell.,” you groan in pain, “somewhere. be car-.”

thud.

“fucking hell.” ransom curses, rubbing his shoulder, writhing in pain on the ground.

you’d be screaming at his stupid ass if only you weren’t doing the same, all feelings in your left leg lost.

“didn’t you see me fall?” you grit your teeth, clutching your leg.

he moans, slowly rolling over to his face.

“great! we’re both stuck here.”

you crane your neck to look up at the crack of light at the top, maybe a good four stories from where you’re sitting?

it was a miracle neither of you plunged to your death.

your hands fumble around the cold ground, feeling for your gun when you hear it.

a low, gentle whirring but it’s definitely not red wing this time.

you frantically scramble to your feet, left leg screaming in anguish even at the slightest pressure.

your hands reach out and this time they land on something hard.

something cold, much like the ground itself with ridged lines and creases.

it’s the wall.

but you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there before...

“the walls, they’re caving in.” you breathe out, instinctively backing away.

the familiar dread building up in your heart seemed to dull whatever pain resided in your leg.

“hey! get up.” you hop towards him but he brushes you off with a wave of his hand, still squirming in pain.

the whirring stops abruptly, along with the walls.

“bucky? sam? can you hear me?!” you yell into the ear comm, only to hear distorted sounds.

your eyes are adjusted enough to see the space between the two walls has decreased significantly.

ransom pushes his body off the ground with his shaky arms, slowly getting on his feet.

“am i crazy or did the wall move?” he breathes out, touching it.

“yea,” you exhale, closing your eyes shut, “yea, it did.”

“y/n!”

your ears perk up at the familiar voice.

“down here!” you yell, not sure if your voice can even be heard from where you are.

then like music to your ears, a familiar scarlet buzzes towards you two.

“sam!” you wave your hands at red wing hovering over you two.

his voice crackles “we’re trying to shut the whole place down, we’ll get you out.”

“the walls-.”

the whirring starts again as if reminded about what it needs to do.

red wing bumps against the contracting walls, falling into a heap of metal next to your feet.

you limp closer and closer to ransom, the wall centimetres away from your back, both of you realising the only way to have more space.

he pulls you into his chest, his good shoulder around you.

tears well up at your eyes, the crippling feeling sneaking in again.

these endurance tests are meant to help you get over your fears and phobias.

steve’d lied.

the endurance tests didn’t work.

because you were struggling to breathe, air hitched in your throat.

“it stopped, the walls.” ransom can barely move his body around, back hitting a hard boundary whenever he tries to.

balled up fists hanging desperately onto his clothes, you’re sobbing now, a hysterical mess.

the air only seemed to thin out more and more, your lungs straining for oxygen.

he watches in horror, the tiny space filled with your desperate gasps and whimpers.

you’re having a panic atta-

think, ransom.

what calms you down?

“you know, sometimes i look up at the stars at night when i can’t sleep.” he blubbers out, heart racing.

anything to just get you to stop trembling like that.

“i just lay in my bed - i have this window on my ceiling - and i look up at it.”

he’s unsure as he continues.

“reminds me of the glow in the dark stickers i had back in fourth grade.”

and of his fleeting childhood.

“did you have those? the $1 a pack with all the crazy fonts?” he whispers in your ear, tapping your back for an answer.

you manage a small nod, biting down your quivering lip.

who didn’t have those ugly stickers that seemed to fall off the very day you put them up.

“take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” he cooes, wincing when he brings his other shoulder around you.

he’s pretty sure it’s broken.

“c'mon, i’ll do it with you,” he pats your back, signalling you to inhale.

so you do.

you focus on the pace of his chest rising up and down steadily, willing yourself to do the same.

it was kind of working? whatever he was doing.

with those arms around you, whispers of sweet nothings in your ears, mediating your breathing.

until the whirring started again.

a/n : ohshsjsnssjsteysys pt 3 finally uppp :)))

tags : @readermia @inmate-marmalade @randomsevans @xoxabs88xox @thebadassbitchqueen @mypalbuck @natrushman3000 @townwitchbitch

#ransom drysdale #ransom x y/n #ransom x you #ransom x reader #ransom thrombey #ransom thrombey x reader #knives out #mcu #sam wilson #bucky barnes #ransom fanfiction #ransom thrombey imagine #remnants

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firesongbard · 3 years ago

Text

Sanctimony

A short snippet from my Post-Control longfic. Read more on AO3.

T ’ L O A K

Something in the universe had determined it would be inordinately funny to take her most recent failure and chase her across the entire breadth of the Milky Way galaxy with it.

Of course, Cerberus would bring Adjutants to raid the Citadel. What a marvelous idea that could in no way backfire on them. It had gone so well for them on Avernus Station and Omega. Three times they had dropped her blue ass in the middle of their disaster and expected her to play ball.

Fuck. Cerberus.

She removed her glove to wring out the blue cyberfluid that had exploded outward from the monster she’d killed. Then she tried for a second time to activate the haptic interface of the C-Sec console.

Finally.

Her initial plan of opening the jails and counting on the bedlam that ensued to work in her favor was no longer the best option. With Bray likely still playing taxi somewhere in the wrong star system, she was out a second in command. What she needed was an army, organized and under her control. And she’d need an XO she could trust to remain on her short leash.

Shepard had left her an unanticipated gift with her pure conscience. Jona Sederis was still in lock-up instead of flying the Eclipse Fleet against the Reapers. That was a woman who had proven she could lead. She could certainly fight. And she had the weak mind of a person with a long history of military service and a very short temper.

Perfect.

C-Sec holding cells weren’t designed for long-term use. Smooth floors, empty rooms with four-sided barrier-enforced glass walls—one way, of course, to allow for maximum observation. Inside the cells, some prisoners were dead, some dying, and some were near mad from isolation. These people had been here since the start of the war, most likely. Not easy to shunt prisoners off to Mercantile Prison Ships when supply lines were cut and communications were spotty at best. None had been given food or water since Cerberus invaded, and humans and salarians were such fragile creatures.

She curled her lip in disgust. This is the price the council was willing to pay for their pretty promise of ‘safety’. This was the dirty secret they kept, the blood they hid from their hands.

The sanctimony of it made her sick.

She pulled up her omni-tool and started a broadcast, accessing every comm panel in every cell.

“Forgotten of the Citadel: Your savior demands your attention. Join me, and together we will claim this Citadel as our own. I will lead a force that no party in the galaxy can resist. This place would have you believe you must trade freedom for safety. I lead the lawless because they believe me. I protect what is mine, because others fear me.”

She had an art for speeches. Almost a thousand years of watching the beaten, broken, and damned wander space looking for purpose and there was nothing new in their desires.

“This chaos may lead to your freedom, but Cerberus is NOT your friend. They would see you starved and drowning in your own filth in your little cages as they go about their petty machinations. But I, Aria T’Loak, will set you free. Make your choices. Join me… or don’t. I won’t force anyone to leave the safety of their four bare walls.”

She cut the transmission. Let them stew on it. Let them feel desperate. By the time she was through the whole station would be under her command.

But first…

“Sederis.”

The ex-commando had a wild, starved look in her eyes and she overplayed the sex appeal as she sauntered to the window. Aria keyed in the code to clear the glass both ways.

“Oh my, well look what the rats dragged in.” Jona bared her teeth in what should have been a smile. No class.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Sederis. You want out, I have the keys. I want Cerberus heads to roll, you have an unhealthy obsession with decapitations.” Aria turned away, emphasizing her disinterest in the outcome. Just a little more pressure, and the Eclipse leader would lose her mind with rage. That was when she was easiest to manipulate.

“After you left me here to rot, I had to take a few things into my own hands. You’re not the only one sitting on a collection of—” she bit her lip seductively with the word, “—favors, hmmm?”

Aria walked.

“You cunt!” Sederis flared with biotic energy as she very predictably lost her temper. “You can’t do this without me, not this time! When I get out of here I will—”

Suddenly, the world went white with light and a cacophony of static drowned out the last of the empty threat. It only lasted a moment before every light and screen winked out. Aria took a chance and lashed out with biotic energy, pulling Sederis toward her. Good play. The barriers were all down, and now every cell was wide open into the blackness.

This. Was not. In the plan.

“Listen to me and listen closely. I’m only going to say this once.” Aria tightened her grip around Sederis’ throat. She reached out with her senses and felt her nervous system, falling in tune with the flickering pulse under her fingers. Couldn’t have her prey slipping into unconsciousness too soon. “I. Don’t. Need. Anyone. You are replaceable, but your loss would inconvenience me. I do not like being inconvenienced.” She loosened the pressure enough to let Sederis gasp a lungful of air. “You play nice, I give you a gun. We take out our anger on the assholes that stranded us both on this bureaucratic hell hole.” Content she had made her point, she let go.

Sederis coughed and sputtered, but she had been cowed. No sloppy sexual quips or blatantly grotesque death threats.

“Good. Now, Follow me. We need to collect my army before the Adjutants kill them all.”

Read more of Aria kicking ass here.

#mass effect fanfiction #short snippet #aria t'loak #mass effect 3 #what the hell happened on the Citadel at the end of the game anyway?#Aria is the best kind of bamf #adjutants are space zombies of the best kind

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breanime · 5 years ago

Note

Theoretically if rio's cute neighbour, the one that watched his son, was being harassed by an ex or just some creepy guy. What would rio do?

So you can find the first neighbor headcannon list here. Also, this headcannon list got long as hell... haha, sorry?

*gif not mine*

Rio had been out of town for the last week, handling business

He’d texted you to let you know he’d be back soon--

--partly to be a good neighbor, and partly cause he wanted to see you

The two of you weren’t dating, but there was definitely something between you

(sexual tension)

And Rio was eager to see where it would go

He walked down the hall to his apartment, his bag slung over his shoulder, glad to be back in his own space

Then he saw your door

The wood was cracked, as if someone had punched it or something, and Rio stopped dead in his tracks

He knocked on your door, eyebrows knitted

You answered with a bat in your hands

“Huh...” Rio said, eyes roaming your body--from your tense posture to the bat in your hands to the tired, exhausted look in your eyes. “... Rough week without me, mama?”

“Oh, Rio,” you sighed, and Rio watched your body relax, “Sorry. I was just--”

“Expecting someone else?” He asked, walking into your apartment.

He dropped his bag at the foot of the couch and turned to you, frowning

Rio watched as you locked both locks on the door behind him; he’d been in your place about 100 times now, and he’d never seen you do that before

“Yeah, kind of...” You answered. “How was your trip?”

“Fine,” he answered, sticking his hands in his pockets, “but I don’t wanna talk about that right now. Let’s talk about you.” He titled his head. “What’s going on here?”

You sighed again, and Rio wanted to hold you. You were stressed, and he longed to fix it

“I’ve just...” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

Rio took a few steps forward, until he was in front of you. He eyed you seriously. Someone so beautiful, he thought, shouldn’t look so sad. Not when he was around to help.

“Bother me,” he said softly, his voice firm but low

“Last year...” You began, looking down. “...I dated this guy, and he was just...” You shook your head. “He was an ass. We broke up, and I never heard from him again... till a week ago... The night before you left.”

Rio’s eyes narrowed; he remembered that night. He’d taken you out for drinks before his trip, spending the night smiling and laughing with you. He’d gotten a call in the middle of it, and when he came back to the table, he saw a man walking away. But you hadn’t said anything about it, and you seemed fine, so he didn’t ask about it.

“The guy from the restaurant...” Rio said, nodding to himself. “That’s your ex.”

“He saw us out, and when you stepped away, he came up to me--but all he did was say hi. He wasn’t weird or aggressive or anything,” you said back, “But then he... I guess he found out where I lived...”

“Yeah,” Rio licked his lips, “that his handy work on the door?”

“Yeah,” you nodded back, “Every day since that night, he’s been calling me nonstop and showing up here, pounding on the door. I called the cops, but they said there’s nothing they can do unless he actually hurts me, so--”

“I got you,” Rio said, grabbing his bag

He turned to go, but you held onto his arm.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked, eyes wide.

He looked down at you

On one hand, he could lie to you, keep up the polite charade that he made his money the legal way, that his business was simply in “providing capital” like he’d told you once before. The two of you hadn’t ever explicitly discussed what he did, but Rio knew you knew his vague descriptions of his business were just that: pointedly vague

But on the other hand... he could tell you the truth. Maybe you’d be cool with it.

Or maybe you’d shy away and turn from him.

Either way, he was going to handle this for you, but he couldn’t deny--

--he wanted you to be ok with it. With him. For some reason, as Rio looked down at you, he saw something special, something that made him feel protective of you, something beyond the lust and friendly affection he had for you

When he looked at you, he saw a partner

“I’ma tell him that the next time he so much glances up at this apartment,” Rio answered evenly, “I’m gonna put a bullet between his eyes. And if he doesn’t like that, I’ll put him down then and there.”

“You... You’d do that for me?” You asked, pretty eyes wide

“I’d of had this handled already if you would’ve told me before,” he confessed, reaching out to cup your face in his hand, “but since I’m here now, I’ll handle it personally.” He leaned down, his mouth just inches from yours. Rio wanted to kiss you so badly, he felt the desire in every part of him with you so close. “Stay here,” he told you, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He didn’t move, though, and neither did you.

Your hand flexed on his bicep, wanting to bring him even closer. “Rio, I...thank you.”

He smirked. “Don’t thank me yet.” He leaned in closer, about to say something else

And then you kissed him

Rio had kissed a lot of women in his life (a lot...like a lot a lot...)

But never had a pair of lips felt so good against his own.

Rio’s arms wrapped around you, and he silently marveled at how perfectly you fit against him. He titled his head, slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned into him.

Chuckling, Rio’s hands went to your waist, and he led you towards the couch

You took a hold of his collar and dragged him down onto the couch with you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he laid on top of you

“Baby,” he chuckled into your lips, “I gotta go.”

“I know,” you said back, grinning, “I just need a few more minutes...”

He laughed. “For what?” He asked, even as he dipped his head down to start kissing your neck. The little sounds you made when his lips ghosted against your skin were driving him wild.

...the ex might have to wait a bit.

Rio was kissing your collarbones while lifting up your shirt when a loud band sounded behind him

You jumped, but Rio just turned lazily, one eyebrow raised

“It’s him,” you whispered, and when Rio looked down at you, he could see the fear in your eyes

This, he decided, would be the last time you would ever look like that

“Relax,” he said, his voice low and calm. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly, and he felt you relax under his touch. “I got this. Just stay here, mi bonita chica.”

Rio got up, kissing the top of your head as you sat up, and reached down into his bag.

“Y/N,” the banging was louder now, “I’m not playing with you--open this damn door right now!”

Rio grinned--it would be his pleasure

Rio opened the door and leaned on the doorway, a lazy smirk on his face. “Hey,” he greeted the man, “you know this is a private residence?”

The man blinked, taking a step back, and Rio chuckled. He knew this type: big, loud, and bad--until someone badder came around.

“Wh--what the hell are you doing here...?” The man asked, craning his neck to try to peek into the apartment.

“Yo,” Rio stood up straight, shaking his head, “What you lookin’ for? Huh?” He stepped up, and your ex stepped back again. “Y/N?” He asked. “She ain’t your concern no more, homie. I am.”

“I--I don’t--”

“Oh,” Rio chuckled, “That’s right, I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself.” He whipped out his gun, pointing it directly at the guy’s paling face. “I’m Rio. I’m the man Y/N’s currently seeing, and she wanted me to let you know that this shit,” he waved the gun, the smile no longer on his face, and the man backed up into the wall, eyes wide with terror, “Is done with. You stop callin’, you stop comin’ around, and you definitely stop trying to intimidate her into talkin’ to you. Matter of fact,” Rio went on, “the next time you see her, you better get the fuck away, cause if I hear about you even breathing in the same space as her again,” he stepped up and pressed the golden gun into the guy’s forehead, “I can’t promise I’ll stay this controlled. Is that understood?”

The ex nodded, looking like a bobblehead with his huge eyes “I---”

“No no no,” Rio smiled, “don’t speak.” He glanced back at you, you were standing in front of the couch now, watching. “You got any cash on you?”

He nodded

“Great,” Rio said brightly, “let’s see it.”

The guy reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, handing it over to Rio

“Mm...” Rio eyed his ID, memorizing the name and address for later use. “This looks like just enough to cover the cost of repairing the door,” he said, taking out a wad of bills, “and a lil extra for emotional damage.”

Rio threw the wallet back at your ex, who caught it, eyes never leaving the gun in Rio’s hand

“Okay now...” Rio grinned. “Run.”

He didn’t have to say it twice, your ex scurried away so quickly, that he fell half-way down the hall and just crawled into the elevator. If Rio didn’t know any better, he’d say he smelt piss in the hall now...

Rio closed your door, tossing the gun--which was empty--onto his bag on the floor

He turned to you, laughing when you launched yourself into his arms

“Thank you,” you said, your head buried in his chest, “thank you, thank you, thank you--”

“I told you,” he said, smiling down at you, “I got you. And yo, I was thinkin’...” He held up the cash. “...why don’t you use this on some self-defense lessons, just for fun?”

“But what about the door?”

“Ah, baby,” he leaned down, kissing you, “that’s what we got a super for!”

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

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @whovianayesha @lexxierave@loveintheroyalfamily @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog@songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes@carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry @ymariejp@its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli@stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out @witchygagirl@geeksareunique @sparrows-books @nyxxnoxx @justvnash @truly-insatiable

Rio Taglist: @gemini0410 @sweetybuzz25 @glimmerglittergirl @gensneverland @jamielennkeeler

#rio x reader #rio imagine #rio good girls #good girls rio

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pengychan · 4 years ago

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 23

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: There's Chekhov's gun and then there's Ernesto's poison. You know the rule.

Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit!

***

“This way, all of you, don’t make noise.”

“But Sister Antonia, these are your quarters--”

“And you’ll stay here until you’re told otherwise, chicos. Make no noise. We’ll bring you food here until they’re gone.”

“But the girls…?”

“They wouldn’t take them for their ranks. God willing, they’ll leave them be. We’ll keep them safe, too. Now you stay here, all right?”

A few terrified, wide-eyed glances from the boys. No reply.

“Am I clear?”

“S-sí.”

“Can we pray, Sister?”

“... Quietly,” Sister Antonia said, her voice tight in the way one’s voice gets when it’s so close to breaking up, and she closed the door, turning the key in the lock. When she turned to grab the bookcase and drag it across the floor, Imelda stepped in to help her push it. It left deep scratches on the wooden boards, but no matter. They would cover that with a rug.

“Is Miguel still missing?” Imelda asked, her voice as firm as she could make it. Antonia lowered her gaze with a nod.

“He’s the only one who didn’t come back. None of the boys has seen him since they went out to play hide and seek.”

Imelda bit her lower lip hard enough to almost break the skin. “Nor Óscar, have they?” she forced herself to ask, and the slow nod felt like a blow. Where was he? Where had they both gone? Could it be that they had both made it to her parents’ home, that Miguel had followed Óscar there? Maybe he had, maybe they were both safe.

God, please.

“I’m sorry, Imelda,” Antonia’s voice reached her as though from a mile away, and she scowled. Anger came easier than despair, and it was more than welcome. No point in fearing the worst behind the safety of those walls.

“They may very well be safe and sound,” she snapped, and marched to the door. “I will go out looking. If they ask, I’m looking for some of our girls. Make sure they’re all in - if anyone asks, this is a girls-only institution.”

“... Do you know where Sofía is?” Antonia spoke up, fear now showing in her voice, and it made Imelda pause. As much as she rolled her eyes at their antics, poorly hidden behind hastily closed doors and too thin walls, Imelda knew they cared deeply about one another.

“She’s taking care of something important. She will be here soon. Don’t worry,” she added, and smiled in the attempt to convey a sense of calm she did not feel. “She can handle herself just fine.”

Antonia’s own lips curled in a weak smile. “I won’t tell her you admitted that. Be careful out there. I really do want to see the gringo’s face when Padre Ernesto officiates your wedding.”

Imelda, who rather liked the idea of her wedding actually being both legal and valid in the eyes of God, knew they would probably have to settle for the gringo to officiate it, but that was not the moment to voice that thought. Except that, as she stepped out and ran towards the plaza, she quickly found out that perhaps the gringo would be in no position to officiate anything anymore, either.

“What…?” Imelda stopped in her tracks, stunned at the sight of several men quickly carrying a body towards the church on a sheet, dark blood a stark contrast to the man’s pale skin and fair hair. He looked-- was he-- dead?

If they go around shooting priests, none of us is safe.

There was no love lost between her and Father John Johnson, and yet there was a stab of something in her stomach at the idea he may be dead. He had been trying to help, after all. He had left the relative safety of the parish to help its people.

Maybe he just said something stupid. He does it a lot. Only this time they were armed.

“Go call doctor Sachéz,” Imelda heard someone saying as they passed her by, but before she could even voice her question - would the doctor be of any use, was he even still alive? - someone else called out her own name.

“Imelda!”

Ceci’s voice caused her to tear her gaze off the gringo who was perhaps an ex gringo. She was running up to her, hair dishevelled in a way Imelda had never seen it - she had always been dignified, even when they were young girls.

But today was not a normal day.

“They have Miguel,” Ceci panted, grabbing her shoulders. “And Óscar.”

No. No. No.

For a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to spin around her. It was as though sunlight itself faded for a moment, distant screams muffled, leaving the world empty and dark. Imelda’s knees may have buckled, they almost did, but she couldn’t allow herself to collapse.

“Their commander is loco,” Ceci was saying, eyes wide. “He just kept screaming about a deserter, one de la Cruz, and the more we swore none of us knew him the more he lost it. And when Padre Juan stepped in-- Imelda! Wait! Come back!”

Imelda didn’t listen: she just tore away from her grasp and ran, towards the plaza, towards the cries.

They had her brother. They had her charge. She had to go to them.

Whenever she thought about that nightmare scenario, Imelda was so certain of what she’d do: get the pistol she had taken from Ernesto, and use it the second it was necessary. But now that it was happening, she knew that taking out the gun would mean signing her death warrant, and that of God knew how many others in the village. A lone woman with a pistol - she would be killed quickly, and retribution on everyone else would be swift. She would be of no use to anyone dead.

Maybe Ernesto had been right, after all. What involvement she’d had had been from the sidelines. She knew nothing of war; Santa Cecilia knew nothing of war.

But war had come to them, and it was a matter of learning fast or dying.

He just kept screaming about a deserter.

There is no mercy in war, Ernesto had said.

He’s one of our own now. I can’t give him away.

They have Óscar.

I promised we would protect him.

They have Miguel.

We protect our own.

He lied to us.

There must be something we can do. Anything.

As she ran as fast as her robes allowed her, blood rushing in her ears and thoughts going in circles, Imelda could only pray that Ernesto would stay at the González farm, unaware, for as long as possible.

If he returned too early and they found out he was there, and that they hadn’t handed him over, it would spell disaster for all of them.

***

“Miguel!”

Héctor’s scream was loud enough to hurt his throat, and it was still lost under the echo of the gunshot, under the wordless cries of the people of Santa Cecilia trying to back away, the shouts of those calling out for doctor Sanchéz and the stunned cries of ‘he shot him, he shot a man of God ! ’ coming even from the Federales themselves.

It was lost beneath all the confusion, and Miguel’s screams.

“No! What have you done! What have you done!”

“Be still-- be still, brat! Don’t try my patience, there is a bullet for you too if you won’t--!”

“Let me go!”

“I am warning you!”

“Murderer! Let me g--!”

“Wait! Por favor!”

This time, Héctor’s cry was loud enough to be heard. That, and it’s rather hard not to notice someone in a priestly robe throwing himself in front of your horse, gripping the reins and looking up at you with a look of pure anguish on his face.

The commander seemed startled, pistol still in mid-air, and he let his gaze shift from Héctor to the motionless priest bleeding out on the cobblestones, a few men already trying to press on the wound to stop the blood loss, calling for help to take him to the doctor. Héctor didn’t look down, didn’t focus on the fact he had just witnessed a man being shot down, didn’t even think he was putting himself in danger of being next.

All he knew was that the man had Miguel, and he couldn’t have him.

He opened his mouth to plead, but the commander’s eyes were back on him and he spoke up before he could. In his grasp Miguel was shaking, eyes full of tears and skin ashen.

“Are all priests in this village eager to become martyrs? Let go of the reins now, or--”

“I’ll join you,” Héctor blurted out, holding tighter onto the reins. “I beg of you to let him go. I’ll take his place.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline; Miguel, on the other hand, let out a gasp.

“Héctor, no--!” he choked out, only to trail off when the man gave him a shake.

“You know him?”

“He is a warden of the Church. I--”

“Well, go back to the Church. We don’t take in priests.”

“I am a novice, not a priest,” Héctor spoke quickly, and fell on his knees. Blood soaked through the robe, warm and wet, while somewhere behind him Father John was taken away on a sheet. Federales allowed it, most of them probably still stunned at the notion their commander had just shot a priest; many held no more love for the Church than Huerta himself did, but fear of God’s punishment was too ingrained in their hearts since childhood not to hold some weight. “I have taken no vows-- none. I can join the army. I’ll do it right now. I’ll do anything you ask.”

There was a hiccupping sob, tears spilling down Miguel’s cheeks. He was always such a lively boy, so smart, always up to something - but now he only looked like the scared child he was. Héctor desperately wanted to comfort him, but he dared not tear his gaze from that of the commander, whose harsh expression had softened even so slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was… calmer.

“You seem to care about this muchacho an awful lot.”

“He’s like a son to me,” Héctor said, and he realized the truth of it only as it left his lips. Miguel let out another sob, trying to wipe his eyes.

“Héctor…” he managed, and Héctor finally dared smile at the boy. A shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“It will be all right, chamaco, I promise,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it, and looked back at the soldier, who stared back a few moments… and finally lowered the pistol, putting it back in the holster.

“What is your name?”

“Héctor, señor.”

“Héctor and what else?”

“Just Héctor. I-- I have no family.”

“Can you hold a gun?”

“Sí.”

“Shoot?”

“I-- only tried a few times. But I will learn.”

“Mph. I guess it’s something. We can’t be picky these days.”

“You won’t regret it. I swear.”

The man sighed. Much later on, Héctor would wonder if the look he gave him that moment truly was somewhat apologetic, or if it had just been his imagination. To his last day, he would never be entirely sure. “... Very well, Just Héctor. I am Commander Hernández. Welcome to the Federal Army,” he said, and let go of Miguel. The boy jumped off the horse and was in Héctor’s arms the next moment, crying hard, face pressed against his shoulder.

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,” he sobbed, holding on tight. “You’ve got to get married-- I’m sorry I was so mad at you-- please don’t go--”

I’m sorry, Imelda.

“It will be all right,” Héctor managed, trying to sound as optimistic as he could. “I’ll be back once this is over and I’ll have plenty of stories to tell.”

Miguel sniffled, still holding on tight. “Promise,” he choked out.

“I swear.”

Another shuddering breath. “Did you-- do you really--?”

“All right, all right, enough. Just looking at you makes my teeth rot.”

Gustavo’s voice rang out suddenly, and Miguel was torn from Héctor’s arms before he could react. He tried to protest, to break free, but Gustavo had already pushed him back towards Chicharrón, who trapped him in a steely grip the boy had no chance of escaping - Héctor would know, he had been on the receiving end of that a few times before.

As the old gravedigger began pulling Miguel away despite his protests, and Héctor stood - so much blood on the cobblestones, surely the gringo was dead - Commander Hernández gave Gustavo a somewhat weary glance. “And you are…?”

“Gustavo Torres, señor. I wish to join your ranks,” Gustavo said, making a dismissive gesture towards the plaza behind him. “I’ve had enough of this place. I am a good shooter, too,” he added. Héctor knew that was an absolute lie: Gustavo couldn't even hit his own foot with any type of firearm. What the hell was he going on about - and why join the Federales? He was a pendejo, that much was no mystery, but since well did he support Huerta? What was going on?

Commander Hernández tilted his head, seemingly taken aback of for entirely different reasons. It probably wasn’t often anyone volunteered to join. “... Well then. If you’re willing to join, I see no reason to deny you.”

“Uh, Commander…” a soldier approached them, looking a little shaken up. Either he was new to all this, or he found his commander had gone a step too far in shooting a man of God in cold blood - gringo or not. He gestured towards a group of people behind him, separated from the rest of the plaza; all men of varying ages… and, to Héctor’s horror, among them there was a boy. Óscar. “We have the thirty men you ask--.”

“No you don’t,” Gustavo muttered. “What you have is twenty-eight men and a half,” a pointed look in Héctor’s direction, “plus a child. The muchacho with glasses over there? Those two bottle ends on his face are not enough to make him usable with a gun. He couldn’t tell his sister from a donkey. I mean, sometimes no one can,” he added, making Héctor want more than anything to wrap his hands around his neck, thumbs on the throat, and squeeze.

But he could see what he was trying to do, so he held his tongue and his hands. Just barely.

Commander Hernández raised an eyebrow. “If this is an attempt at taking the boy’s place, it is rather transparent,” he said, and Gustavo shrugged.

“Then I can replace anyone else,” he replied. Either he did an excellent job at sounding like he didn’t give a damn either way, or he really didn’t give a damn either way. “Or you leave with thirty-one men. It just seems fair to warn you that the boy’s eyesight is awful and he’d make a poor soldier.”

Commander Hernández turned back to look directly at Óscar, who pressed himself against the wall under his gaze as though trying to make himself feel smaller, all skinny limbs and huge glasses. In the end, the man shrugged. “Mmh. Those glasses do seem awfully thick, and you do look like you’d make a better soldier,” he said, and he gestured for the closest soldier to let him go. Cries of mercy for others rose up from sisters, wives, parents - but none was heeded. There would be no more mercy that day.

As he watched in relief Óscar being pushed away from the lineup, eyes wide and bewildered, Héctor only vaguely heard the commander’s orders for his men to give the new recruit uniforms, get supplies and fresh horses from the village, and be ready to leave within the hour. He let out a long breath and turned to Gustavo.

“Gracias,” he murmured, only to get an annoyed look in return.

“Don’t thank me. If we survive this, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Let me guess. This is all my fault?”

“Of course it is. It’s always your fault, somehow,” Gustavo grunted, glaring at the ground while they walked to get their uniforms. “We can only hope the puta is going to follow my instructions and get us help.”

A thought crossed Héctor’s mind, unexpected and blinding as the flare of a match in a darkened room. He found himself blinking, taken aback. He had no clue who the puta may be, but the rest was… revealing. “Those messages-- the instructions-- was it y ouch! ”

“Scream it for everyone to hear, why don’t you!” Gustavo hissed, falling back into step after stomping on Héctor’s foot. It caused him to walk a bit awkwardly, but he didn’t protest or say anything more. Only after a folded uniform was pushed into his arms - obviously used, ill-fitting and with specks on it that looked a lot like dried blood - did Héctor dare turn, heart heavy in his chest, hoping to get at least one last glimpse of Imelda before he left.

And, for the second time that day, he got his wish. Imelda stood at the front of the crowd, holding onto Óscar. He was already taller than she was, but she cradled his head the way she did when she was a girl and he was just a young child. Miguel was there, too, having somehow escaped Cheech’s grasp. He was holding onto her robe but, unlike Óscar, he was looking towards him. Both him and Imelda were, his face tear-soaked and blotchy and hers terribly grave, and terribly pale.

I’m sorry, he ached to tell them both. Stay safe. I love you. I’ll be back soon.

But they were too far away, and he could only hope his glance would be enough to tell them that. He could only hope they knew.

When I return, Héctor thought, refusing to contemplate any other scenario, to add any ifs to that. He’d be back, whatever it took. When I return and we marry, Miguel will stay with us.

Only then, with that thought in mind, Héctor was able to give them a weak smile.

***

Had it not been for her brother holding onto her like he hadn’t in years, or for Miguel clinging to her robe while shaking with hiccuping sobs, Imelda may have ran forward. She may have pushed through, to the commander, and screamed to him that she knew where to find the deserter he wanted - that he could have him, if he released everyone else.

One man’s life against thirty. Thirty men, including the one she loved, that could be released in exchange for one.

I could save him. I could save them all, here and now.

Later on she would not be proud of what she came so close to doing, but neither would she be ashamed. She had promised Ernesto she would protect him from the Federal Army if it came to it, and she had meant it; if it came to taking a bullet to keep that promise, she’d have taken the bullet. But letting other people do the same… that was where she balked.

As much as it tore at her heart, she knew Héctor had made his choice. He must have known that giving Ernesto away would save him and Miguel both, but he had decided to take Miguel’s place and keep Ernesto safe instead. The others, though, had no choice at all. Twenty-nine men who knew nothing of Ernesto’s deceit and could not make their own decision as to whether he should be protected with their lives or not.

There were young husbands, young fathers, family men who may never return home, leaving widows and orphans and lonely parents. Who were they to make that choice for all of them? Who was she to do it?

We protect our own.

He is one of ours, too.

One life. One life against thirty.

Héctor may never forgive me.

He can hate me, if it means he’ll be alive to do it.

Imelda watched, her head wrapped in silence, as Héctor took a uniform and finally, for the first time, looked back. Their gazes met, the coldness in the pit of Imelda’s stomach turned to ache, and the idiota did the unthinkable. He had the galls to smile at her, and somehow it was the most heartbreaking thing she ever had to endure - seeing that smile, and knowing it may be the last time she did.

No. No, she couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let that smile be taken away from the world a day too soon than it had to, no matter if she would never again see it directed at her. She would live with it. They both would.

With a long breath, Imelda made peace with the fact she may never be able to sleep well again as long as she lived, and gently pushed Óscar away. “Go home,” she told him, stroking his cheek, and went to step forward and go speak with the commander.

Only to stop as Miguel’s grip on her robe tightened and he pulled her back, looking up at her with a tear-streaked face. “Don’t do it,” he choked out, and Imelda’s blood ran cold. It was as though the child had read her intentions on her face, plain as day. “I promised him he’d be safe here. I promised.”

Oh, my little one. It was too much responsibility to put on you.

Imelda swallowed, unable to speak for a few moments. “Miguel…” she managed, her voice barely audible, most of it stuck somewhere in her throat. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Sometimes we need to make-- choices we’d never want to make.”

“I don’t want to choose,” Miguel pleaded, still holding on with both hands. “I don’t want either of them to die. He-- he’s loco, you didn’t see how he shot Padre J-Juan, he… he really hates Ernesto, I don’t know why, we can’t let him have him…!”

She sighed, and crouched down, wiping his face with a sleeve. “Miguel, listen to me--”

“No. You listen before you do something I assure you you’d regret.”

Sofía spoke suddenly before Imelda could say anything more, crouching next to her as though to comfort Miguel as well. “First of all, lower your voice, Jesus Christ. Second, don’t do anything. We can kick Ernesto around for putting us into this mess later, and I’ll be first in line, but no need to see him hang.”

“None of those men has ever been in a battle. If they take them--”

“We’ll take them back.” Sofía pushed something into her hand, a folded piece of paper. “We will have reinforcements.”

“What…” Imelda read the brief message, taken aback. Then she read it again, and again, and again; the handwriting itself struck her as much as the content itself. “Wait… this is…?”

“Same handwriting as the instructions you’ve been getting, yes. It was Gustavo all along.”

Somehow, Imelda may have been less surprised to be told that the Pope himself had been behind the entire thing. Gustavo, of all people? Someone who never cared about anyone other than himself?

Except that he took Óscar’s place just now. I owe him. Oh God, he made me owe him. He will never shut up about it, will he?

“It-- what?” was all Imelda managed to say in the end, stunned. But it made sense, suddenly - how José and his men had known their bell needed repair, and why they had come running to fix it after Ernesto’s unsuccessful attempt, once Gustavo took it upon himself to find a solution. She knew there was something behind it, but she had no idea what. Now she knew.

The bell had always been their means to call for help.

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death knell and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

“Wait, what… what did Gustavo do?” Miguel was asking, confusion overriding his anguish. Sofía smiled, and pulled him close.

“Don’t worry, niño. We’ll fix everything,” she said, brushing back his hair. She smiled, but even her smile was wrong, sharp, teeth ground tightly. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Imelda stood slowly, slipping the note in her sleeve, and glanced up. Now all she could see were people huddled together mourning their losses, while soldiers took all that was not nailed down in the small weekly market. The men the Federales had chosen to join their ranks were gone, Héctor with them, without so much a last word between them.

No matter. This is not the end. We’ll bring them back. By any means necessary.

“... Let’s take Miguel back to safety, and be ready to ring the bell once they’re gone.”

“And what do you plan on doing?”

“There is something in my room I need to retrieve, and a horse I need to borrow,” Imelda said, very quietly, as they began walking away from the plaza. Sofía still held onto the hand of a very confused Miguel; she knew she was referring to the pistol, she had to know what she meant to do, but she didn’t say as much aloud or try to talk her out of it.

“Of course,” was all she said. "Be careful.”

“What’s happening?” Miguel asked, his voice small. Desperately wanting to be hopeful, but terrified of seeing that hope shattered. “How… can you really fix this?”

“... I’ll do my damndest,” Imelda replied, getting a somewhat shaky laugh from Sofía.

“If the gringo heard you, he’d have a heart attack.”

“Oh!” Miguel seemed to recoil. “Padre Juan! Is he-- did they get him help?”

“Huh?” Sofía looked down, taken aback. “What happened to the gringo?”

“He was shot.” Miguel swallowed, and tugged at her sleeve. “He was trying to save me and… and… can we go to doctor Sanchéz first? Por favor-- just to see if he’s… if…”

His voice faded, and Sofía looked over at Imelda with a bitter smile. “First one points a gun at me, then they shoot a priest. Our robes aren’t much of an armor anymore,” she said, and turned back to Miguel. “... I’ll send one of the sisters to see him as soon as you’re safe with the others, and let you know how he’s getting on. I promise.”

Miguel protested, but not too much. He was exhausted, still in shock for everything he had gone through in the span of little over an hour, and all things considered it was testament to his resilience that he was not curled into a ball and screaming.

He let Sofía lead him back to the orphanage, and Imelda watched them disappear with a long sigh. He was safe now. He could rest. Her own work, however, had only just begun.

Imelda gave another quick glance behind her, towards the plaza, before she headed back to her room, where a pistol lay hidden beneath a floorboard, waiting to be loaded. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to it; she had hoped the Federales would spare their village until the end of that war. But there they were, and there she was.

It was time to see if the hours spent learning to load and aim had been worth something.

***

All right, so maybe the painfully slow trip to the González farm had been worth it, after all.

Ernesto was almost entirely sure his half-assed blessing had precisely nothing to do with the young bull suddenly realizing what went where and enthusiastically getting to work - too enthusiastically, he had definitely seen more bull than he ever needed to see in his life - but he had to admit, the timing had been nothing short of amazing.

The look on old Manuel’s face had been a sight to behold, and the fresh eggs he had gifted him immediately afterwards were a nice plus. He’d probably been moments away from falling on his knees and declaring him a true miracle worker, which would have been flattering but also rather awkward, right next to a bull and a cow getting down to business.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to tell Juan his blessing had worked, after all. Maybe he’d suggest Manuel González to name any resulting male calf Ernesto and a female Juanita, just to be spiteful. That would teach him.

Ernesto was snickering to himself at the idea when suddenly, on the other side of the hill, the bell of Santa Cecilia’s church began tolling - slowly, with long gaps between strikes. It was enough to make the smile fade from his face, heart dropping somewhere in his stomach as always whenever he heard that sound. A death knell.

What happened? Who died? I was away only hours, what did they do?

It may be nothing, of course; one of the old parishioners may have kicked it, a sad but not really unusual occurrence. With some luck, it may be the insufferable gravedigger. Maybe the sexton had finally fallen off the stairs and broken his stupid neck.

But that couldn’t be it. The death knell would only ring out during a funeral, or… or maybe the damn Pope had died, didn’t all churches do that if news came that the Pope croaked? He was almost sure they did. Or maybe someone had just climbed on top of the belltower to fuck with the bell for no reason.

I was only gone for a few hours. What can possibly happen in a few hours?

Anything, was the answer. He’d learned the hard way that anything can do wrong in a few hours. Everything can go to shit in less than a few hours, and something in his gut told him that was exactly what had happened. Trying to keep a sudden wave of panic at bay, Ernesto spurred the stupid donkey to go faster until he reached the top of the hill, and looked down.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe; it was as though something had taken hold of his lungs, and squeezed all air out of him. From way up there in the distance, nothing about Santa Cecilia looked amiss - but it was not the village itself he stared at. What made his blood run cold was the column of men on horses and carts further west, leaving it behind. Federales.

They’re leaving, Ernesto thought, hands shaking on the reins. It’s all right, he told himself, but it was a lie and he knew it. The Federal Army never left anything behind if not devastation, and the bell kept going on and on and on, the continuous death knell making him want to scream. He could taste bile, stomach clenching.

Dead, dead, dead.

There it was again before his eyes - the men who stood blindfolded before the firing squad, his own rifle gleaming in the sun, the wails of women and children and the elderly quieted down by the deafening bangs once the order was shouted and they obeyed. When they left those villages, too, had he heard the church’s bell ringing to a death knell. Mourning.

Santa Cecilia was in mourning. His village, his parish. His people. His friends. Who did they take? Who did they kill?

Not me. They’re leaving, they must not have been here for me. It’s all that matters, isn’t it?

… Isn’t it?

Ernesto didn’t answer his own question. He shut down all thought the way he desperately tried to shut out the ringing of the bell, and spurred the donkey down the hill as quickly as he could, heart hammering somewhere in his throat.

***

They’re mourning us already.

The thought was enough to almost break him, but Héctor forced himself to keep going, holding onto the reins of the horse he had been given, clad in the too-small uniform that had been drenched with someone else’s sweat and blood. Forcing himself not to turn, not to break, because he knew that if he did he may never be able to put himself back together.

Was that how soldiers got through it? Was that how Ernesto had survived until he'd found refuse in Santa Cecilia - by focusing on nothing but the road ahead, never turning back to look at what they may never see again?

No. I will be home again. I’ll be with them again.

Héctor held tightly onto the reins and followed the horse in front of him, holding onto that thought with all he had.

***

They’ll come as soon as they get the message. They must.

Towards the back of the convoy, Gustavo shot a glance ahead towards the commander. He kept riding, not turning once. Thinking the bells were ringing to mourn them, most likely, or the stupid gringo priest who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, or both. Either way, he would be wrong… but he didn’t know that. He wouldn’t know until it was too late.

Gustavo Torres pulled a knotted-up handkerchief from his pocket, one of several he’d stuffed in, and prepared to let it drop as soon as the column of men turned to another path.

***

With how little he’d lasted in bed the one night she had been dumb enough to spend with him, Sofía had written off Gustavo’s stamina as non-existing. However now, with her arms already aching from ringing the bell no more than a few minutes, she had to take that back.

Not that she would say that aloud, let alone in his presence, but apparently he wasn’t bitching for no reason when he said bellringing was more work than it looked like.

No matter. Keep ringing. Keep going. Help will come.

So she did keep going, letting her gaze wander towards the column of men, their men among them, leaving the village right ahead of her. She kept ringing as she noticed Imelda leaving the parish down below, clearly having recovered the pistol they had taken from Ernesto and heading towards her parents’ home to… borrow one of their horses.

Be careful, Sofía thought, and might have prayed for her safety if she still believed God gave a damn. Instead she bit her lips and kept pulling. Kept ringing, focusing on nothing else.

And thus failing to notice Ernesto rushing down the hill, into the village and towards the plaza as quickly as the donkey - and then his legs - could carry him.

***

“They came upon us like locusts--”

“I turned and they were there--”

“They took my son! My only child, what will I do--”

“Why didn’t God smite them where they stood!”

“Thirty men, my brother among them, I ran but I was too late, I couldn’t say goodbye--”

Ernesto heard all of it, heard the cries and pleas, the anger and pain, but they seemed so very distant. He stood on the spot, reeling, eyes fixed on the ground in the middle of the devastated marketplace.

There was blood. There was so much blood, soaking into dirt and pooling in the cracks between cobblestones. People and carts and horses had stepped over it in the chaos, tracking it everywhere; no matter where he turned, there was blood. A trail of it left the plaza, away from it, towards the church. Only one clear trail.

Only one body.

“Who…?” Ernesto managed to ask. His ears were buzzing, and his tongue felt too large. The reply came like a blow to the pit of his stomach.

The Delgado widow crossed herself, her skin pale as ash. “Their commander knows no God. He tried to take an orphan, the boy Brother Héctor spent so much time with-- Marco, was i--”

“Miguel?” Ernesto blurted out, horror stealing his breath for a moment. He looked at the woman with wide eyes, feeling as though all strength was sapped away from his body. All that blood, it seemed impossible it had all come from a child. It felt like a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

No, not him. It can’t be. Héctor will never recover.

“Yes, Miguel… the poor child, he was so scared. Padre Juan tried to save him, to stop that man, but that beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!”

“What-- Juan?” Ernesto looked around again, at the blood, at the weeping people all around - and back towards the church, where the trail led. Above him, all around him, the death knell kept ringing.

“He shot-- Juan?”

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Sí. Ah, it was horrible. He fell back, and didn’t move-- so much blood, I couldn’t bear to watch.”

Ernesto staggered back, light-headed, struggling to make sense of what had happened. How had it happened? Only hours earlier, Juan had been alive and well - in a good mood, even. Messing with him by sending him out to bless a stupid bull. He’d chuckled, patted his arm like the insufferable bastard he was, promised there would be no Latin lesson that evening.

And now there would be Latin lessons at all, ever again, because that idiota could learn every stupid rule of an useless dead launguage but didn’t have enough brains not to step between a man with a gun and his target.

Bile rose to Ernesto’s throat, and he closed his eyes. Behind his eyelid the sun still shone, merciless, and he stood in the desert, beneath two swaying hanging corpses, talking to a priest on the brink of death. Left to die for trying to be merciful when the world would not, for trying to put himself between prisoner and executioner.

It was a bad call, Padre, Ernesto had said.

It was my duty, Padre Joaquín had replied.

Stupid priest. Stupid gringo.

High above, the bell kept ringing.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

When Ernesto heard himself speaking again, his voice was barely audible to his own ears. “... And Miguel?” he managed. Had Juan’s death at least been worth something, anything at all?

“Oh, the child is safe-- Brother Héctor took his place, it was heartbreaking to see, but at least he has a chance of coming back alive.”

Ah, of course. Of fucking course Saint Héctor had taken the boy’s place. What was it with that village that made everyone so damn inclined to martyrdom? What was it about Santa Cecilia that made those who lived there so eager to die a stupid death?

God damn you, stop dying on me. Stop leaving me behind.

“Padre Ernesto, will you pray to God for our men’s return?” a voice spoke up, and Ernesto turned to face a small, scared crowd. It was the first time he got to linger in a village after the Federal Army left it behind, and he found he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the anger, the pain, the pleading looks. He couldn’t stand how the first thing they chose to do was praying to a God who would not hear, or chose not to listen.

God had never been any good to Ernesto. He had long since learned that if you want a job well done, you have to do it yourself.

Ernesto gave a kind smile, seething with anger behind it. Anger was good, though. Anger would get things done. Anger was something solid to cling on to, so that he could ignore that other thing gnawing at him, threatening to undo him if he let himself acknowledge it.

He knew what he had to do.

“Of course,” Ernesto said, still smiling. “I will immediately retire to pray for their safe return in the chapel. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rushed towards the parish before any of them could say one more word - and before any of them could mention anything about the deserter they were looking for. He followed the blood trail for a distance and then diverged towards the back of the church, the death knell unbearably loud in his ears. He did his best to shut it out, to focus on the small voice in the back of his head. Juan’s voice, back when they had only just met.

“As the founder of my order said, todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.”

Any means to find the divine will.

Ernesto had seen the wisdom in de Loyola’s words then, and he certainly saw it now. By the time he reached the small shed where holy wine was stored, among other things, the blood rushing in his ears almost covered the incessant ringing of the bell. His hand closed around the cold metal key in his pocket, and bared his teeth in a smile that was almost a snarl, jaw clenched so tightly his face hurt.

He had no idea what the divine will was, and neither did he care. He knew his own will, and he would see it become reality.

“Todo modo,” he gritted out, and turned the key in the lock.

***

“... Do you think he has any chance of pulling through, Doctor Sanchéz?”

The man didn’t reply right away, washing his hands in a bowl of warm water that had by now turned almost completely red, as had the towels strewn about. For several moments all Antonia could hear was the quiet splashing of water, the distant echo of the bell ringing outside - what was Sofía doing? - and the painful-sounding gasps as Father John Johnson struggled to draw in each breath, eyes shut, skin pale and clammy, covered by a sheet.

“Mph. I stitched up all I could, but my guess is that he’ll be the gravedigger’s problem before sundown. I have never seen a man lose as much blood as he did and live to tell the tale.”

Ah. Antonia nodded, folding her hands. There was no love lost between John Johnson and… any of the sisters, really, but this was not something she would wish on anyone.

He tried to stop them.

“I see,” she finally said. “We will pray for him.”

“Getting Padre Ernesto to come as soon as he returns would be a better use of your time. He will need the final rites,” Sanchéz muttered. Antonia barely had enough time to open her mouth to let him know she would when she was cut off by a groan. They both turned towards the bed; the gringo was still unconscious, but stirring weakly. Or was he regaining consciousness? Had he heard them? Or--

“Er-- nest--o,” he choked out, and that was it. His head fell back on the pillow and he made no more noise except for a weak, low whimper.

After a long silence, doctor Sanchéz sighed. “... Go get him, for Christ’s sake, so he can give this poor bastard his final rites.”

Antonia nodded, something heavy in her chest, and went out to do just that. She was told almost as soon as she stepped outside that Padre Ernesto had indeed returned, and headed to the church to pray… only that he was not there. He was not in the chapel, not in the living quarters - not in the yard, nor in the orchard, or in the orphanage to comfort the children, or even back at the plaza. No one had seen him since.

Padre Ernesto had returned, they told her... only that now he wasn’t anywhere.

***

Chicharrón needed a drink.

It wasn’t that the events of the day had left him shaken, that he had felt powerless, or that he was terrified out of his mind of how quickly Héctor would die in battle, after a lifetime learning how to handle a guitar and barely touching a rifle. It wasn’t that he worried about Miguel’s state of mind, or that he was generally so upset even Juanita looked crestfallen.

No, of course not. He was too old for that nonsense. He needed a drink for reasons unrelated to the day's mess, that was all, and he knew just where to find it.

But it seemed someone had found it before he did, because the shed’s door was open and what caskets of holy wine had been left were gone.

Of course, better of them to have found the wine rather than any weapons or other supplies hidden away - that would have probably made them decide to burn Santa Cecilia to the ground - but that was the last straw and Chicharrón was suddenly too furious to even try and see a silver lining to anything.

“Those bastards! Even the wine! Is nothing sacred anymore?”

Chicharrón would have kicked the door, if not for the fact he would have probably lost his balance or even broken his peg leg, so he did the next most reasonable thing, and punched it.

“YOWCHGODDAMNIT!”

He punched the door again for good measure - his hand already hurt, anyway - and limped inside. Maybe they had left at least some wine, at least a casket; it wouldn’t hurt to check.

As luck would have it, there was one casket left, but Chicharrón didn’t pick it up right away. For a long time he could just stand frozen on the spot, staring at the empty space where something else had been stored. Something that was not wine at all.

Well, look at that. Had those damn idiots taken the rat poison, too? God, he hoped they thought it to be sugar or something or the other. He hoped they would eat it and choke on it.

Chicharrón limped right out of the shed with the remaining casket under his arm, slamming the door shut behind him and getting ready to toast to that wish - entirely unaware of the fact that a priest who was not a priest at all was currently clambering up the hill with two donkeys, one of whom carrying nothing but caskets of wine, hellbent on making that wish come true. By any means necessary.

High up in the belltower, the bell kept ringing.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

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mummybear · 4 years ago

Text

Demon From My Nightmares - Part Two

Part One Here

Words: 6354

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Sinful Amounts Of Dirty Talk, Degradation, Name Calling, Little Bit Of Angst, Restraints (Handcuffs), Edging, Orgasm Denial/Control, Choking, Slight Knife Kink, Angry Demon Dean ;) Yes that’s a warning! Think that’s it! :)

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Mentions Of Castiel

Summary: Dean doesn’t take too kindly to you letting Sam and Cas take him back to the bunker. When the two of you are alone he finds a way to show you just how pissed he is.

A/N: This is another square on my @spndeanbingo - Demon!Dean.

A massive thank you as always to my incredible beta for everything she does <3 @negans-lucille-tblr

Ko-fi HERE

You hear Sam close your front door behind him downstairs as you throw your duffle bag on top of your messy bed. Throwing in any of your clean clothes and underwear, along with the few pictures in your room. There’s part of you that wonders how you hadn’t realised that you didn’t actually belong here, you barely had anything in the house. How long would Sam and Cas have left you here if Dean hadn’t found you? Would they have expected you to wait until your memories came back on their own? How was it that your now demon ex boyfriend still cared about you more than two people you considered to be your best friends?

There was so much going through your mind as you finally tugged the zipper of your duffle closed. You knew you were probably being an idiot going back to the bunker to help Dean, but you couldn’t leave him. Not like that. The way he’d made you feel just twenty minutes ago… he may be a demon, but you knew your Dean was still in there somewhere.

The ache between your thighs is still fresh and you can’t deny that you want more, you’d missed him so much. The way his hands had felt on your body, his lips against yours. That perfectly husky voice in your ear as he fucked you within an inch of your life. He always knew just what you needed. Then, of course, you miss everything after the sex, the way he’d pull you close and kiss the top of your head, soft touches of his fingers over your back until you fell asleep. His stupid jokes and a sense of humour which you’d always admired with everything he had been though. You needed to get him back, that fiercely loyal and protective brave man, the one that you loved heart, body and soul.

You scold yourself as you leave your bedroom and head down the stairs, because you can’t stop thinking about how hot you find this version of him, no matter how dangerous he is and despite yourself, you want him to own you and make you beg for him.

Locking your front door, you head over to where Sam has the Impala parked on the side of the road, engine running while he waits for you. You take a deep breath before you pull the car door open, that familiar smell hitting you like a tonne of bricks. You may not have remembered earlier today, but now you couldn’t forget the way he smelled. Clearing your throat, you finally climb into the car and close the door behind you.

As Sam starts driving you can’t help but be angry at him and Cas for the way they had handled this situation. Part of you is thankful that they caught him, but the bigger part of you is pissed as hell that they sidelined you so they could get to him, put you at risk without even talking to you, or giving you your own say. Surely they knew that you would say yes to anything that could’ve helped Dean, right?

“So are you just gonna ignore me until we get back to the bunker, Y/N?” Sam asks with a sigh, looking between you and the road.

Rolling your eyes you finally turn to look at him, “Sam are you kidding me? You actually expect me to be okay with what you two did to me?” You ask incredulously, resisting the urge to throw your hands in the air from utter frustration.

You quickly see the guilty look that crosses Sam’s face as he shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“Y/N, listen-” he tries, but you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“Don’t, Sam. You had so much time where you could’ve told me what was going on, I would’ve helped! You know that I’d do anything for Dean. What would you and Cas have done if Dean killed me?” You ask turning to look at him, he glances between you and the road and frowns as he runs a hand through his long hair.

“Dean wouldn’t do that,” Sam tries to reason.

“No, you’re right. Your big brother and the man I love wouldn’t even consider hurting us. But this Dean is a demon, Sam, we’re just ants in his playground. You’re lucky things worked out the way they did, if he gets away from Cas or out of those chains you’ve got him locked up in at the bunker, then we’re all dead,” you tell him honestly and you can practically hear Sam swallow beside you. You know the reason he doesn’t reply is because he knows you’re right.

You turn away and shake your head, leaning against the cool window as Sam continues to drive.

You don’t know when you fell asleep but you had to have at some point, as Sam is currently shaking you awake.

“Y/N, we’re home,” he tells you gently.

You sit up and stretch out your body, yawning as you wipe at your eyes.

“Okay, I’m up.”

“Look, I am sorry. I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I mean it and I’ve really missed you,” Sam tells you sadly, those damn puppy eyes making an appearance again.

You sigh loudly and finally look at him, “look, I’m pissed at you, both of you. But I’m not gonna disown you over it, Sammy. Just promise me, you’ll talk to me next time.”

Sam smiles slightly giving you a small nod, “I promise.”

Dean’s inhumanly loud and animalistic growls had been filling the bunker for hours now, but he’d finally fallen quiet twenty minutes ago. Part of you knows you should stay in your room and wait for Sam and Cas to do what they need to. Then there’s the other part of you that wants to go and see him, you need to make sure he’s as okay as he can be. The ache between your thighs reminds you of how he’d made you feel, maybe he is still your Dean deep down. He had all of his memories at least, from what you could tell. Sure, maybe he felt his feelings in a different way, but the way he’d touched you, the way he’d made you feel was indescribable.

With your mind made up you slip off of your bed and out of your room, staying light on your feet, not wanting Sam or Cas to hear you. You knew they’d only stop you. Turning the corner quickly you find the door you know Dean is behind and to your surprise it opens without needing to be unlocked.

You step inside the darkened room and you swear you can feel his presence already.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you sweetheart?” Comes the deep timber of his voice in the darkness. You swallow hard, taking another step into the room, your thighs squeezing together as a reflex of hearing his voice.

Another step and you’re standing by the light on the table, and you quickly flick it on. Your knees almost buckle beneath you at the sight of him tightly tied down to a chair, you can see how angry he is, it’s written all over his face. But there’s also a flicker of what you believe is amusement at seeing you standing in front of him.

You stay silent as you walk those few extra steps closer, your feet staying just outside the devils trap. Safe to say you never thought you’d see Dean Winchester trapped in one of these things.

You glance over at the empty syringes of blood that are scattered across the table by the lamp, his fingers are clenched into fists and you watch as he roughly tugs at the rope binding his wrists. The chair moves against the floor a little the more he struggles, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching. You look away from him and down at the floor when his sinister chuckle bounces off of the walls.

“Aww baby, what’s up? You ain’t scared of little ol’ me are you?” His voice is condescending to the say the least, when you look back up at him there’s a devilish smirk on his plump lips and his eyes flash black.

“N-No, I’m fine.” Your blatant lie and shaking voice is met with another laugh.

“Why don’t you come over here? I’ve got plenty more that I wanted to do with that fucking sexy body of yours.” It sounds like a threat and a promise as it rolls flawlessly off of his talented tongue. One which you’re more than aware he can fully live up to, and completely surpass, if you gave him the opportunity.

“I’m not an idiot Dean, you’ll just use me to get out. Believe me, the second you’re back to being the real you, you won’t need to ask twice.”

He licks his full lips and leans forward in his seat, flashing you those pearly whites. He locks eyes with you as they flick from black back to the green ones you know and love.

“Really? So you’re tellin’ me that you don’t want me to fuck you like I did earlier? You’re gonna pretend you don’t crave being my dirty little slut? We both know you do, remember how you begged for my cock? Well, after this little stunt, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to beg a lot harder for it.” There’s a growl in his voice, and you can feel your panties getting wet from his words alone.

You just about manage to swallow around the lump in your throat. You watch him grin widely when you take another step closer, finally breaching the outer circle of the devils trap. Honestly, you don’t know what you’re thinking, other than that you would do anything to please him, anything to get him to make you feel the way you did earlier and this is what he wants, so you’re gonna give it to him.

When you take another step forward Dean growls low in his throat and tugs harder at the ropes that bind him to the chair. You walk the last step towards him and he’s leaning so far forward in his chair, that you're surprised the ropes haven’t snapped yet. You tug at the hem of Dean’s flannel shirt that you’re wearing, very aware that what you’re doing is stupid.

“I shouldn’t be here. Sam said-” Your breathy words are stopped when Dean growls at the mention of his brothers name.

“I don’t give a fuck what Sam said. You’re mine. It’s about damn time you started remembering who you belong to. Now fuckin’ take that off.” Dean snaps, nodding at the plaid shirt you're still playing with.

Chewing at your bottom lip you finally meet his eyes again, “Dean I don’t think-” you practically stutter.

“No. You don’t think. You do as you’re fucking told, like the good little slut you are. Now, take it off.” His voice is practically a snarl at this point and leaves no room for argument, his eyes have gone black and his mouth is set in such a way that makes your stomach tight.

With shaking fingers, you reach up and start undoing the buttons. Watching as his eyes slowly return to green, he pulls his plump bottom lip between his teeth and you can see the grin just beneath. He’s watching you so intently that you make sure to take it slowly.

When the material falls to the floor, Dean groans. The bra you’re wearing is tighter and smaller than usual since your others are in the wash and it pushes your breasts together firmly. You step between his legs, a nervous smile on your lips when he looks up at you with a look that makes your knees weak.

“Look at you. My perfect little slut. You better untie me, you’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

His voice is like a demand,but you know you can’t listen, that’s the one thing that would mean you’d never get your Dean back and you can’t allow that.

“I….I can’t Dean.” You practically whisper, feeling his knees close around your thighs when you try and back away.

“You wanna try that again?” Dean practically seethes, his hands clenched into fists against the arms of the chair.

You can actually feel your legs shaking now, from fear as well as the arousal you’d been plagued with since you’d left the house you’d called home.

“No Dean. I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to get free of the grip of his legs, “I should go to bed.”

When you turn away and finally free yourself, a loud crash fills the room and a hand wraps tightly and harshly around your wrist, effectively cutting off the scream with complete shock.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Dean spits angrily, pulling you forwards so roughly that you collide with his chest.

You look up at home with wide eyes and your heart almost stops in your chest.

“H-How did you get out of that?” you ask quietly, tugging your arm free of his hold and stumbling out of the devils trap away from him.

Dean’s smirk is dangerous and you're frozen as he makes his way towards you, stopping at the very edge of the devils trap. Suddenly you’re very aware that you’re standing in front of him in only your underwear.

“I think you know how, sweetheart.” His voice is low and husky and you visibly shiver as it causes goosebumps to rise across your exposed skin.

“You’re about to get what you deserve, and this time no touching for you.” He’s grinning as he pulls out some cuffs from behind his back. He nods over towards the hook in the corner of the room and you gasp when he steps forward again, out of the devils trap and he forces you back until you collide with the wall behind you.

His entire body is pressed against yours, trapping you between the solid wall of muscle that is Dean and the solid brick wall behind you.

“Dean, please, can’t we wait until you’re better?” You try and reason, whimpering loudly when he presses harder against you and you can feel his hard cock pressed between you. The tip of his nose traces the line of your jaw up to your ear, breath ghosting along your skin.

“I fucking love how I am baby girl, never been better. If we’re being honest, my needy little slut, you love it too, don’t ya? You like me a little twisted. Just the right amount of fucked up to deal with you, ain’t that right?” he asks hotly, fingers moving over the damp patch on your panties.

Your head falls back against the wall, but the only thing moving is his fingers, pulling harsh breath after breath from your lips. He has you so distracted that you don’t feel the cold metal lock around your wrists until the last second.

Dean pulls you, stumbling over to the door when you both hear footsteps coming from the distance. The door is cold against your heated skin and your cheek is pressed tightly to it as the footsteps stop.

“Y/N? Are you in there? Is everything okay?” Sam calls suddenly, twisting the door handle but Dean grips it tightly and it stops moving.

“Lock it. Tell him everything is fine,” Dean demands quietly, smirking against your neck when you suck in a breath, before his teeth drag over your pulse point and he wraps your hair around his fist and tugs harshly.

You just about manage to nod your head with the grip he has on your hair. “Yeah Sam, I’m fine. Dean and I just needed to talk,” You tell him as you lock the door, trying to keep the shake out of your voice.

“Okay, well I was just about to head out for some supplies, are you sure everything’s okay?” Sam asks as Dean pushes his hand into the front of your panties. His fingers drag back and forth teasingly through your slick heat. Your nails dig into your thighs as you try to keep the cuffs still, so Sam doesn’t get suspicious.

“Yes, everything’s fine. You go, I’ll be fine,” you reply a little shortly, biting your bottom lip hard and almost drawing blood when Dean pushes two fingers inside of you easily. His chuckle vibrates against your neck, and you barely hear Sam’s reply as you snap back at Dean.

“Fuck you, you twisted demon dick.”

His fingers are gone immediately and you slump against the door, “Oh baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he roughly pulls you away from the door by your hair and turns you to face him. You squeal in surprise when he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, your arms getting trapped beneath you. Before you know what’s happening, Dean lowers you to the floor and pulls your arms above your head, securing the cuffs to the hook hanging from the ceiling.

You lift your chin from your chest and meet his eyes. Those cold, dark black eyes that fill you with a sense of dred and nervous excitement but most of all there’s that overwhelming sense of pure and unadulterated lust.

“Dean, come on, you know I had nothing to do with any of this. I just wanted you back, the real you.”

You watch that smirk stretch across his perfect pink lips and you have to clamp your thighs together. His aftershave surrounds you when he steps closer, his breath fanning across your parted lips.

“Now baby, I thought we’d already spoken about this. This is the real me, the best me.” There’s a pause as he takes another step closer and lets his calloused fingers slowly drag down the length of your stomach, until the tips are sliding back and forth over the hem of your panties.

“Besides, do you really think I don’t know how much you crave me like this, that’s why you came in here tonight wasn’t it sweetheart?” he sounds so cocky, so sure of himself but your stomach is too busy rolling with arousal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you’re voice isn’t as certain as you’d hoped it would sound, you sound nervous to say the least.

“Deny it all you want. It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna be begging for my cock when I’m done with you. Just like you did the last time. So desperate and needy,” Dean tells you quietly, letting his lips brush yours ever so slightly. You feel your breathing increase when you lean in and try and kiss him, but he pulls away just far enough so you can’t reach him, although his hand remains just above your panties.

“You’re gonna have to work for it my little slut.” You whimper loudly, feeling the tip of a knife slip beneath the side of your panties, just barely digging into your skin, but the threat is enough to make more arousal flood the already wet fabric.

Dean’s free hand grips your jaw tightly when you try to look at the floor and he kicks your feet apart with his booted foot. The blade is cold against your heated skin but he doesn’t move, his grip on your jaw tight as he meets your eyes again.

“Dean, please. Just take the rest of your cure and we can do whatever you want all night.” You beg him through clenched teeth, wincing when his grip tightens.

“Why would I do that, hmm? I can already do what I want all night,” he chuckles gently tugging the knife through the side of your panties easily. “Who are you kidding here sweetheart? You fucking love being treated like a demons little fuck toy. You need it, don’t you?” he whispers the last part, voice husky and daring. As he drags the blade of the knife up your other thigh, not digging in enough to make a mark, hooking into the only remaining side of your panties and giving a rough tug. They drop to the floor and you can’t help but moan as the cool air in the room moves between your legs, making your throbbing clit tingle at the change of temperature.

“Look at you, such a fucking wet mess.” Dean laughs, letting go of your jaw, leaving behind an ache which manages to ground you slightly.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper feeling the blade just barely digging into your stomach as he slides it up over your soft skin. Keeping his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth, as he makes quick work of cutting your bra from your body, letting it fall to the floor, a satisfied noise leaving his now parted lips at seeing you naked again.

The knife clatters to the floor and you quickly look up meeting his green eyes, full of lust and desire and it makes your heart jump in your chest.

“What is it baby girl? I didn’t think you wanted me, like this.” He all but purrs, standing impossibly close his fingers trail slowly down your stomach and between your legs. You whine his name as his fingers move through your slick, circling your clit gently before dipping back down and he slowly slides those same fingers inside your tight wet heat. His lips are pressed against your ear as your walls clamp around his fingers and he moans deeply, starting a slow deep rhythm that has you wishing your thighs would stop shaking, because your arms are already aching with the effort of keeping yourself up right.

“Such a tight wet little cunt, fucking perfect. Clearly I didn’t fuck you hard enough earlier. Is that what you want my little slut? You want it harder, faster, deeper? Want me to make you come until it hurts sweetheart?” Dean growls deeply, picking up the speed of his fingers until he feels you clamping down around them and he pulls them away.

You gasp for breath as your legs collapse beneath you and the orgasm slowly starts to drain away. “What the hell Dean?” You pant in irritation.

Dean laughs, circling your body until he’s standing behind you. “Like I said, you’re gonna fucking earn it.”

“Oh fuck you, Dean!” You spit out angrily.

“You’ve got such a dirty mouth on you. I guess we’ll see how long you can keep that up tonight, I can’t wait to see just how long it takes for you to break.”

You don’t know how long has passed or how many times Dean had brought you right to the edge of orgasm before stepping away, looking more and more pleased with himself each and every time. You were panting heavily, your entire body aches and feels weak, the pulsing between your legs has become painful. You’re so desperate for release and he knows it, but your voice is hoarse from your pleas for release. But he’d simply chuckled and sucked his fingers clean and he watched you huff in annoyance as the orgasm faded.

Your entire body is practically vibrating when he steps towards you again, even his breath against your skin makes you whimper in desperation. He stays close to you, still completely clothed, you can feel the slight brush of that damn red shirt against your skin as he circles you.

“Dean, please I’m sorry. You’re right, I need you, I don’t give a fuck if you’re a demon. I need you to make me come, please, I’ll do anything.” You beg him, unashamed and even more desperate than any of the other times previously, feeling the tears pressing against the backs of your eyes.

Dean stops in front of you, eyes black and tongue pressing against his sharp canine and a smirk curling the corners of his perfect lips.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, what was that? I didn’t hear you.” Dean mocks you, as the green fades back into his eyes you don’t miss the sparkle in his eyes, he’s enjoying this far too much.

A tear rolls down your cheek but you’re so frustrated you don’t even pay it any attention. You know he wants you begging for his cock, he loves to see how desperate you are for him, especially this depraved version of him.

“Please fuck me Dean, I need your big cock. Please, I’ll do anything you want,” you plead desperately, clinging to the chains that are wrapped around your cuffs.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, hearing the tell tale sounds of his belt buckle clanging open. When he steps in close and pulls you down from the hook you fall against his chest, barely any strength to hold yourself up at that moment. Dean holds you up by your upper arms before you can fall, and for the first time in what your sure has been at least an hour, you feel his plump lips pressing against yours and you can’t help but moan against them. It doesn’t last nearly long enough though, he’s soon pulling away and pushing you down onto your knees.

He unlocks the cuffs and pulls your arms behind your back, he’s eerily silent, but you don’t care - whatever he wants he can have. You hear them click back into place and watch as he walks back in front of you again, that delicious smirk on his lips.

You look up at him with big, almost innocent eyes, biting your bottom lip when you watch him pull that perfect thick cock from his boxers and push his jeans down his thick legs. You swallow hard and lick your lips, watching as he strokes it back and forth, unable to stop the roll of your hips trying to find friction anywhere you can.

“Look at you,” Dean purrs, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Such an obedient little slut all of a sudden, such a good little girl. You wanna suck my cock baby?”

You whine at how sexy his voice sounds, every word he speaks sends you further into a place where only he exists. He almost sounds like the old Dean towards the end and you just want to please him. When you stay quiet, Dean bends down, so that his nose brushes against yours briefly, and you have to hold back the moan bubbling up in your throat.

“I really wanna suck your big cock Dean, please.”

“Of course you do, baby. I bet you’re making a right fucking mess all over the floor right now. Just from thinkin’ about choking on my cock, I bet you could come just from that right now, couldn’t you?” He chuckles knowingly watching you swallow hard when he backs off, back to towering over you.

“Yes, Dean,” you answer obediently, feeling the throbbing between your legs intensifying in anticipation.

Dean runs the angry red tip of his swollen cock over your parted lips, grunting quietly when your tongue gently laps at the pre-cum leaking from the tip. Pushing into your mouth quickly and gripping your jaw tightly, he takes you by surprise when the head of his cock nudges at the back of your throat, and you can’t help but gag a little.

“You might wanna relax or this is gonna hurt.” Dean chuckles, pulling out slightly before thrusting his hips forward again. You try to breathe through your nose better than before, but find yourself gagging just as harshly, your throat tightening around the intrusion.

“Surely you remember that though, a good little slut like you must remember,” Dean growls deeply.

You look up at him with tears starting to leak from your eyes, watching as he unlocks his phone a devilish smirk on those perfect lips and he aims the camera at you. He licks his lips and you see him tap the screen. Tossing the phone somewhere close by he grips the hair at the top of your head. Your nails dig into your palms, your jaw is aching from the grip Dean has on you as he starts to pick up a faster speed, practically fucking your face. The drool leaks from the corners of your sore lips, everything hurts in the best way as he uses your mouth for his pleasure. Every time you gag, Dean thrusts that much harder the next time. Your chin, chest and thighs are soaked from the spit leaking from your mouth as his grip tightens on your hair and your jaw. He’s right though, because even choking on his cock has you close to the edge. Dean pulls himself free of your lips with a growl when your eyes start to roll,and you just about manage to choke out his name, wanting to warn him, so that you don’t come without his permission, you didn’t need another reason to piss him off more.

His hand drops from your face but his grip remains just as tight on your hair.

“Guess I was right, hmm? Almost came all over the floor, just like the desperate little slut that you are,” Dean taunts, knowingly.

Hauling you up onto your shaking legs with the grip he has on your hair, you fall against him with little to no balance. You melt against him as his lips roughly claim yours once more and you can feel him backing you up, until a table hits the back of your legs whilst his tongue continues to intertwine with yours perfectly.

His mouth is suddenly gone from yours all too soon, and you whimper at the loss as he turns you quickly in his hold and slams you down onto the table you’d bumped into. You wince at the forcefulness behind it, the cold wood makes your nipples painfully hard, and you wish you could grip onto the table edges for support when Dean kicks your feet apart. The cold air on your soaked and exposed pussy makes you shiver, and you moan loudly, finally feeling his thickness slide through your dripping folds.

“I need your cock, please. I can’t take any more teasing Dean, please.” Your voice comes out hoarse and breathy.

A harsh slap comes down on your ass cheek and you whimper his name loudly, gritting your teeth hard as another slap comes down on the opposite cheek, just as hard as the first. A loud growl echoes around the room as Dean thrusts into you in one rough thrust, and you cry out in surprise, unable to grip the table like you want to as it screeches across the floor.

“Such a tight little cunt,” Dean groans, gripping your ass cheeks in his hands and squeezing them tightly, as he pulls them apart, and you can feel his eyes on you.

He withdraws his thickness from you slowly, so that you feel every glorious inch.

“Oh fuck! Yes Dean!” You scream, as he slams back inside you hard and fast, the pleasure and pain blurring the lines. With every snap of his hips, Dean starts to pick up a steady pace, which has the table continuing to screech across the floor, the sound mixing with Dean’s pleasured grunts and your whimpering and moaning.

“Can I come Dean? Please, please. I can’t hold it anymore.”

The harder you beg, the faster his movements get, he releases his grip on your ass, one hand gripping the chain joining your cuffs together, the other gripping your hip bruisingly. The clap of your ass as it bounces against his hips joins the filthy sounds in the room.

“Fuck, you dirty little slut, come on then, come all over my cock. But you better fuckin’ scream for me,” Dean grunts,moving the hand that was on your hip to between your legs, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

You gasp for breath, a faint squeak of Dean’s name passes your lips as your orgasm hits and your eyes roll, white completely fills your vision, but Dean’s pace doesn’t falter. Not even when you soak the floor beneath you, the wet noise of your pussy gripping his cock is like nothing you’d ever heard, and it only turns you on even more.

Dean doesn’t give you time to come down from one of the most intense orgasms of your life, before you know it you’re being pulled back against his clothed chest and he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly. His lips press against your ear and he growls deep in his throat.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ good mind to make you clean that mess up with your tongue. But you’d probably just enjoy it, wouldn’t you, huh?” Dean asks, chuckling to himself. You can only bring yourself to moan out louder when he drags his teeth across the sensitive spot just under your ear.

You can feel Dean’s blunt nails digging into the side of your neck.

Suddenly the door almost comes flying off the hinges. Dean stills behind you but doesn’t seem surprised, like he knew it was coming, it's like you can feel him smirking as he pulls his lips away from your neck.

Sam stands in the doorway panting hard, clearly he'd been trying to get in for a while. But you hadn't heard a single thing.

"Can we help you with something, Sammy? Or are you just here to play the peeping Tom?" Dean asks, that condescending tone thick in his voice.

"Dean what the hell are you doing?" Sam asks angrily, his eyes flicking between you and his brother.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm giving this little slut what she wants, ain't that right, sweetheart?" Dean asks, snapping his hips forward harshly and making you scream. "Fucking answer me, don't be rude in front of my brother," Dean demands, with another snap of his hips he pulls a whimper from your lips, but you can still hear the laughter in his voice.

"I'm great, Sam. Can you go? We're kinda busy here," You mutter under your heavy breathing.

Sam ignores you and looks at his brother.

"Then why is she cuffed?" Sam questions and you bite your lip as Dean turns you to face him with a harsh grip on your jaw, his hips moving every time he speaks.

"Because she's a kinky little bitch. Likes it when I fucking ruin her and she can’t get away - wants it, over and over again. She was begging for my cock, little brother, you should've heard her, so desperate, just wanted me to fucking own her." You can't help but smile as Dean looks right at you when he's talking, though there's a blush rising in your cheeks.

Sam is trying to focus anywhere that isn't on the two of you.

"Take them off, then Sam can go and we can finish. I promise I won't move Dean, I'll be a good girl," you purr quietly against his lips.

Dean smirks and tugs your bottom lip between his teeth. Bending down he grabs the key from his jeans pocket, you whimper as he stands again and his cock slips fully back inside you. Undoing the cuffs they quickly fall to the floor, Sam looks at the two of you, surprised to see you haven't even tried to move. Chest still rising and falling quickly, as you look into Dean's black eyes.

"Now could you kindly fuck off, I’ve got business to finish, Sammy."

The door slams shut and Sam doesn't even bother replying.

"Look who's learning. Such a good little slut for me," Dean groans as your pussy flutters around his cock.

"Guess you earned yourself a treat, you get to choose where I come. You want it all over that pretty little face, or do you want it deep inside you, leaking out of this perfect little cunt for the next few days?" Dean asks huskily, starting to pick up his thrusts again, the sounds echoing off the walls.

"Wherever you want baby, use me." You moan, feeling his hand wrap tightly in your hair as he tugs hard.

"That's my girl. Just how I wanted you, all mine. Finally broke you, just fucking beautiful." He praises you with a chuckle, fucking into your tight wet heat like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

The air feels like it's been stolen from your lungs as he uses your body to get himself off. But whatever he's doing, whatever he's saying is working for you in the best way.

"Gonna….come," you manage to choke out.

"Do. It. Fuck! Do. It!" Dean growls each word followed by a particularly hard thrust that hits your sweet spot repeatedly.

You can't manage to utter a single word this time as you fall apart, in fact you completely black out.

You wake up with a warm comfortable bed beneath your sore and tired naked body. You jolt up when you hear him scream again. You jump out of bed on shaking legs and wrap your robe around yourself.

Running down the hall to where you know he should be. You walk into the room without even thinking, just in time to see Dean strapped to another chair, he looks up, right at you and you watch as the black fades from his eyes and he blinks hard. When they open again he's still looking at you, but with those beautiful green eyes, with only a look in them the real Dean ever had, the human Dean.

"Dean? Are you okay?" You ask in shock, ignoring all eyes on you except his.

He looks a little off, but he nods regardless.

"Yeah, I’m okay. It's me. The real me," he confirms shakily. You sigh with relief, and you try to ignore that tiny pit in your chest. You were happy he was cured though, because you loved him so much more when he was human.

Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @ne-gans @deanwanddamons @simsadventures @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @sunshineandwings86 @akshi8278 @peaches007 @stylesismyhubs @fandom-princess-forevermore @hobby27 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967 @screechingartisancashbailiff @maddiepants @spnfanfic-reblogs @holylulusworld @mrswhozeewhatsis @sonofabringmesomepie @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester @hhiggs @pisces-cutie @trina44sb @heartsaved @matsumama @adoptdontshoppets @beth-winchester21 @doctor-hp-mcu @mrspeacem1nusone

Pong Tags: @aprofoundbondwithdean @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @deanscarlett @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @scorpiongirl1 @deandoesthingstome @deansleather @curliesallovertheplace @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @kayteonline @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @quiddy-writes @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @becs-bunker @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @evilskank-inthemegacoven @maraisabellegrey-blog @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @bennyyh @clueless-gold @deanwinchesterxreader @winchester-family-business @there-must-be-a-lock @just-another-winchester @cas-backwards-tie @winecatsandpizza @firefly-in-darkness

#spndeanbingo #dean winchester #Demon Dean #demon!dean #demon dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester supernatural #dean winchester smut #dean winchester SPN #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #Supernatural smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut one shot #Sam Winchester #part two

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allmightluver · 4 years ago

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First lines meme

Ooo! 😲 thank you for the tag @justanotherfoolhere !!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines. Tag 10 authors!

I’m incredibly shy so if you would like to do this, I tag you!!

Ah I have some old stories from old fandoms (or side fandoms I should say), but as for MHA, most of my stories are just wips right now. I have approximately 5-6 stories in the works right now, however 3 are just thoughts yet, not written out, 1-2 are RP’s with another person that I’m not sure if I have the ability to share yet 😅, 1 is....extremely, well...NSFW 🙈 even the first line asfkgkka I’m not going to do that one, you’ll just have to read it on ao3 when it’s done 😖

However! I do have a massive story that’s been in the works for over a year now (atm it’s around 57,800 words), I’ve actually gotten stuck on it half way through and a friend is helping me by rping those parts with me. If anyone remembers from forever ago, I talked about writing a story about Toshinori actually becoming addicted to his painkillers, and overdosing during class, that’s this story. I have a good chunk of this written, so to make up for my lack of stories, I’ll post a few paragraphs of the beginning! (I hope that’s ok! 🙈)

((I should note, I don’t normally rp, the ones I’ve done are just with a close friend or two))

So, here’s a few paragraphs of what I’ve been calling “Painkiller” under the read more...

Eyelids sluggishly rise. Each blink seems to be getting slower and slower. And he’s still talking. How the soft furred mammal at the front of their table can speak for hours at a time without so much as a break is a superhuman feat. Of course, the principal isn’t human at all, which probably is how he can accomplish it.

Black eyes glance at the clock on the wall across from him. 1:50 p.m. This was supposed to be a short meeting. A quick briefing on the school’s protection and security upgrades. This is also the time to give feedback on how the procedures seem to be working. It had started during their lunch break at 12:30 p.m., and it’s still dragging on. Snipe as well as a few other teachers that have classes to teach at this time are absent, but the rest of the available staff are present.

Shota massages his eyelids, refraining from gritting his teeth against the stinging, and promptly tipping his head back to apply his eye drops. They’re almost gone, he’ll have to get a refill from Recovery Girl. Shota lowers his head once again, black locks falling back over his face.

He’s exhausted. A full night on patrol and then the morning teaching at UA. He’s done for the day after this, and all he wants is to sleep. He’ll still have to check in with Eri to be sure she’s been ok throughout the day, before he can collapse on his bed.

Eri was still adjusting to living at UA, but seemed to be doing well so far. When he couldn’t be with her, she had another teacher or staff member watching her. Thankfully, there hasn’t been an instance with her quirk going out of control. Yet. He hopes to keep it that way. She’s just starting school, but slowly. She has a lot of learning in just living before she can worry much about academic intelligence. But Shota has no concerns of her being able to catch up to her age and grade level. Eri’s proven to be smarter than they’ve given her credit for. Perhaps wiser in some ways than a kid her age should have to be.

Shota usually teachers her in his spare time. His hero work has decreased due to his stacking responsibilities. Last night was the first in close to a month, and he can feel in his sore muscles that it’s been too long. Thankfully, he can rest tonight, but if Nezu didn’t hurry this conference up he’s going to be pulling another all-nighter. The temptation to pull out his sleeping bag and snooze in the chair he sits is becoming harder to resist.

Shota’s gaze moves across the room at the other occupants.

Mic sits to his right, closest to Nezu. The man’s listening, but one can see the bored expression on his face as he picks at his painted nails.

Midnight across the table seems a bit more focused. Her arms rest on her lap as she listens to the white animal, adding in her thoughts every now and then.

Cementoss and Ectoplasm sit next to her, both relatively silent.

Shota’s eyes flick to the chair next to his left before moving to the closed door at the room’s entrance.

Yagi had been here as well. A few minutes ago, he had politely excused himself from the room and had yet to reappear.

Maybe he made a break for it, Shota thinks with envy. Though he knows it’s a lie.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Number One Hero to duck out of meetings and public places for short periods of time. No one questioned him on it, assuming he had business calls or the like. He was All Might after all, and surely a very busy man.

But now the Symbol of Peace is dead, and still the brief intermissions continue. In fact, they’re increasing in frequency. Shota has high doubts about the possibility of impromptu hero phone calls from the man’s agency, but doesn’t dwell on it.

Everyone, even All Might, has secrets. It isn’t Shota’s job to nose his way into everyone’s personal life.

His sore eyes blink in mild surprise when the door he had been focusing on slides open, and the man in his thoughts shyly stoops his head under the doorway to enter back into the room. Yagi closes the door again and takes his place beside Shota, moving quietly to attempt not to draw attention to himself. But it’s a wasted effort; whenever he’s present, all eyes immediately are drawn to him. Plus, it’s hard to ignore a 7 foot man.

Shota turns away, attempting to refocus on whatever their eccentric principal is speaking about.

For a while, the meeting draws on as usual, Nezu doing most of the talking and the other teachers providing input as they see fit. The way the conversation is leading, it seems like things are starting to wrap up. Finally. The last class of the day starts at 2:20 p.m. and that doesn’t leave much leeway room for any teachers that need prep time.

Shota leans back with a silent sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go check on Eri back at the dorms, and the sooner he can crash. Thinking about anything other is too hard to concentrate on.

Through his sleepy fog, something moves in his peripheral vision. Instinctually looking over to his left, he notices the lanky man next to him has wilted in posture, much like a plant with no water. The haze in Shota’s brain clears only slightly, having something more interesting to observe.

Now actually taking the time to study the other, Shota notices the haphazard blonde mane looks messier than normal. Yagi’s long, sinewy hands are placed comfortably on his lap, though a subtle tremble is running through his frame. A sheen of sweat is starting to form above his brow. Though his eyes remain fixed on the principal, the unfocused haze in the cyan pools gives Shota the impression Yagi isn’t paying attention. The normally bright irises are dull and almost completely hidden in the surrounding black sclera.

He looks pale. Must be sick. Shota lets his attention drift back to Nezu. Toshinori Yagi is a grown adult; he can take care of himself. If he doesn’t feel well, he’ll go home. These thoughts stubbornly go through Shota’s mind just before another pushes itself in.

He remembers the tall man entering the teacher’s lounge only two days after the Kamino incident. Yagi had been completely wrapped in bandages, bruises and stitched up cuts littering his body, and one arm was in a sling. Everyone had expected him to still be in the hospital, and not back to UA for at least a week, maybe two.

Shota recalls the other teachers chastising the ex-hero and trying to convince him to go home, to rest. Yagi had politely smiled, one that made Shota’s teeth grind at the obvious artificial gesture. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, only present to soothe their worries. But Yagi thanked them for their concern. Even then, their coworkers had tried to assist him in any way possible. He had always insisted he was fine, respectfully refusing their help. It became hard for their colleagues to accept when it was obvious the injured man was struggling with even the simplest tasks.

Recovery Girl had made frequent appearances, much to Yagi’s dismay. It was unfortunate his body couldn’t handle her quirk, and he had to heal naturally, so she made it her job to monitor him. She didn’t even try to deny she was only there to check in on him, to make sure he was behaving himself, at least to the miniscule level she could except from Toshinori. She was always disappointed, and expressed so outright. But she could do little to sway him in his own self-care habits, and he always waved her off with another deceptive smile.

If he had forced his straining, overworked, body to comply during that time, what’s stopping him from teaching his class in 15 minutes?

More movement next to him puts Shota’s thoughts on pause. Dark eyes flick over to the older man, being as inconspicuous about his spying as possible. With the black hair covering his face, most people probably can’t tell where he’s looking anyway, and he’s not moving his head at all.

One of Yagi’s arms slowly lifts to his face, resting his sharp elbow on the table. The large and scarred hand covers his mouth, baring his bony wrist and too-thin arm as his sleeve slides down a few inches. The pose might be meant to look like he’s simply resting his chin, gaze still locked on Nezu like he’s listening intently. But sitting this close to him, Shota can see how the tremors in his body have increased, sweat starting to run down the deep crevices of his face in tiny rivers. The glazed over look in those black eyes has been replaced by one subtly emitting a fight or flight expression.

Shota frowns. He’s gonna barf. The pro briefly wonders if he should use his capture weapon to grab the trash can in the corner of the room to prevent a mess on the carpet, or worse, the table.

Before he can act, Yagi’s chair abruptly slides backwards as the retired hero wrenches his body up, fumbles with the door handle, and rushes out of the room as quickly as his unstable limbs can carry him. He barely manages to slam the sliding door shut behind him before he’s out of everyone’s sight, the hasty squeaks of his shoes on the tile floor growing more and more distant.

Nezu pauses at the sudden outburst, all the room’s occupants staring at where All Might had disappeared. The feel of concern weighs heavily in the atmosphere.

Although Yagi had often left before, he always excused himself quietly or snuck away when the attention wasn’t on him. Something this dramatic has never happened.

-----

And we’ll leave it there for now! This is still a wip remember, so things may be changed here and there, but I hope this makes up for my lack of other stories!

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tirednerd2012 · 3 years ago

Note

How about this idea: Ian is walking home from school one day and he gets kidnapped by one of barley's rivals wanting to take revenge on him or something and barley goes on a quest to save his little brother.

Bonus scene: while barley is struggling with the rivals, Ian manages to reach his staff and casts a spell at them and it saves barley, but Ian blacks out and he later wakes up in the hospital with barley and his mom beside him and Barley starts comforting him and have a brotherly moment.

Get ready for some angst with this one! Here you go! This will be the last one for the night. More to come tomorrow!

Barley was a lot of things. His mother and brother would call him loyal, annoying, exciting and overly protective. His friends would call him chill and a great dungeons master. His enemies, however, would call him a jackass or something of the sort. Just depends on the perspective.

The person who probably hated him most was his ex, Drew. He managed to avoid him. While Barley knew damn well he would never forget everything that man put him through, but he tried to move past it.

Especially after he crashed into the van, knocking Ian and Barley out and kidnapping them. He was going to kill Barley, but Ian insisted on taking his place. There was no changing Drew’s mind. He knew how much Ian meant to Barley and he knew that Barley would want nothing more than to protect Ian from him.

Barley still couldn’t sleep at night without hearing Ian’s screams and Drew’s laugh. He stabbed him, but apparently he survived. The wound wasn’t fatal and he was able to get to the hospital in time. Meaning someone was helping him, but Barley had no idea who.

Ian Lightfoot was walking home from school. Barley was working on his online classes and it was a nice day, so he decided against the bus. He texted his brother that he was on his way home and continued to make his way. He was about halfway there, on an older street that not many people lived in, when a car came speeding by.

Drew stepped out of the car. With a gun. Ian reached for his staff, but remembered he didn’t have it. He never took it to school.

“Well, well, if it isn’t little Ian. It’s been awhile, man,” he said. Ian went to run, but it seemed that Drew was reading his mind. “I wouldn’t do that. No one really lives in this neighborhood. I can shoot you.”

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” Ian snapped. Drew walked over to him and yanked his bag and jacket off, revealing the scars from Ian’s last encounter with him.

“I’ll admit, that was pretty brave, what you did for your brother back there,” he said. Ian froze as Drew smiled at him. He hated this guy. He wanted him dead. Ian cursed his name more times than he could remember for what he did to Barley. He remembered checking in on them after Barley didn’t come home to see him choking the life out of his best friend.

“What do you want?” Ian asked, but his throat felt tight. Drew paused, looked at him with cold eyes before quickly grabbing a fistful of his hair and then slamming his head hard against the car. He collapsed and Ian felt the gravel on his cheek and his head spin. He couldn’t process a single thought, except his wrists being tied behind his back, a gag in his mouth and then his ankles tied.

Drew lifted him up without much effort and tossed him in the trunk of his card like he was nothing.

Barley looked at the clock. Ian texted him three hours ago saying he was on his way home, now he wasn’t answering his phone at all. He drove around everywhere looking, but there was no sign of him.

Worry and anger were building up in the oldest Lightfoot brother when Ian’s picture popped open on his phone. He grabbed it and answered within the first ring.

“Ian, where are you?”

“Sorry, babe, Ian can’t really come to the phone right now,” Barley fell over and landed on the chair when he heard that voice. His heart skipped a beat and he grabbed at his chest.

“Drew.”

“Who else?”

“Where’s Ian?” he demanded. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let him see you afraid. The video turned on and Barley saw Ian in a large dragon cage with a dead bolt lock on it. He tried to look at the background for clues, but couldn’t find any. He had no idea where Ian was. He felt his hands shake and he had trouble keeping the phone steady.

“Alive, but that’s about all I can give him,” Drew responded, indifferently. The camera focuses on Ian, desperately trying to get out of the cage. His forehead was bleeding and several of his scars had been reopened. “Say hi to Barley, Ian.”

“Barley, I’m okay. Whatever he wants, don’t give him!” Ian said, but Drew laughed and kicked the cage, causing Ian to fall in it. He grabbed a key, unlocked it and then dragged Ian out of the cage. Barley could tell from the position of the phone that Drew climbed on top of Ian.

“Hey, babe, does this look familiar?” he asked as he brought his hands around Ian’s neck. He began choking him.

“Stop! Stop. Drew you got me, where are you? I give up! You win!” Barley cried. He didn’t stop. He choked Ian out until his brother fell unconscious. Then he checked.

“He’s still breathing,” Drew informed him. “You have about, I dunno, it took us 3 hours to get here, you have 4 to get him before I kill him.”

“He has nothing to do with this, Drew. Please, if you’re going to kill anyone, kill me,” Barley offered. This was his mess, not Ian’s. His brother got involved because he loved him and wanted to protect Barley from this bastard.

“I could, but we both know this is much more painful to you. If you fail, his blood, your little brother’s blood, will be on your hands, Barley. If you get anyone else involved, I’ll kill him on the spot. I have nothing to lose, but you sure as hell do.”

With that, the phone call ended. Barley stood there for a second, stunned. Three hours to get wherever they were. That meant he had an hour to figure out exactly where that was, or he would be too late. There would be no room for error.

“I’m coming, Ian, I promise. Just hang in there.”

Barley, not proud of this part of the rescue mission, first threw up. He darted to the bathroom and felt all the stress turn to nausea. Then he panicked. One wrong move and Ian could be killed. His brother's life was in his hands.

He thought about Ian, alone, knocked out somewhere with someone who wanted to hurt him, and Barley is at least 3 hours away from him. He couldn't protect Ian and it hurt every fiber in his being.

Wait. Ian's laptop. He had it connected to his phone. Maybe he could find the phone's location on it. He ran up the stairs and went to Ian's desk. He looked up at the picture Ian took of the two of them at the park on day, hanging up on his wall. Then he shook his head. Focus, Barley.

He opened the computer, no password, and looked up the Find My Phone App. Sure enough, he found a location. Three hours away, north. He would have to pass the Manticore's Tavern (Maybe Corey would blow some shit up after he got Ian out?)

No, Drew said not to get anyone else involved. He had to listen, otherwise Ian would pay for his mistakes more.

He looked over and saw Ian's staff. It would be nice for Ian to have something to protect himself with. He grabbed it and his keys, left a note for his mom saying he'd be home soon, and then left. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened up a message.

Drew sent him a picture of Ian's back now covered in fresh cuts. Barley had to wipe his tears away to prevent from going off the road. He was going to kill Drew. Nothing would stop him this time. He would make sure the bastard was dead.

Was Ian awake? He must be scared out of his mind. He was just walking home from school and suddenly snatched away with the underline promise of death?

Barley drove as fast as he could. He gave it all he had in his van. According to Maps, Ian was in the middle of the woods. Barley could park the van a little bit away and take the rest on foot. That would give him the advantage of surprise. The only thing that truly mattered was getting Ian out of there as fast as possible.

He would need a hospital. If Barley parked far away, he would have to carry him, but that shouldn't be too hard. Ian was light and Barley had been able to carry him since the day he was born.

Barley had memories of Ian since the day he had been born. Who else could he say that about?

No, no, keep it together, Barley told himself. He made the three hour drive in two hours and thirty minutes. He pulled into the woods, grabbed his sword and Ian's staff and took off. He found a cabin and he crept close to it, listening through the backdoor.

"Barley's going to make you sorry!" he heard Ian's voice. While it was clearly pained, he managed to sound strong and determined. Barley tried to pinpoint the location.

"Your brother isn't here to save you, Ian. You're going to die for his mistakes."

"This isn't his fault! It's yours. My brother is the most amazing guy and you're the one who doesn't deserve him. I'm glad you two broke up. He is worth more than you ever could be."

Even when facing certain death, Ian defended his brother.

"You little shit."

Barley tried the backdoor and opened it quietly. He peaked in and saw in the living room, Ian was in the cage glaring at Drew. His back was pouring out with blood and his eyes showed how much pain he was in. He tried to stand strong, but his legs shook and he had to hold on to the bars to keep from collapsing. Drew was too busy enjoying Ian's suffering to see Barley coming out from behind.

He grabbed the guy and threw him away from Ian. He laid the staff down by the cage and went to look for the key when he felt something slice his back.

"Barley!" Ian cried out. Barley spun around and ducked just in time to avoid Drew's aim to his head. The two began fighting. Barley was terrified, yes, but his adrenaline and anger took over.

No one hurt his brother and got away with it.

Ian watched with horror as Barley and Drew fought. Drew was planning for this. He knew Barley would find them within no time. He knew everything to do to piss Barley off enough to get his mind so blinded by anger, Drew could kill him.

Drew managed to kick Barley in the stomach and his sword fell out of his hand. Ian saw his staff and reached for it. He didn't have much energy, and honestly, he had never felt so exhausted before in his life, let alone tried to use magic when it was like this. He didn't know what would happen.

But as he got the staff in his hands, Drew went in for the kill. Barley glanced over just in time to watch Ian's eyes fill with horror and his brother screamed bloody murder.

"No!" Ian remembered an explosion throwing him back, then nothing.

He woke up in a hospital. Most of his body was covered in bandages and he heard soft crying beside him. His mom was there, sobbing, her hands covering her face.

"Mom?" he asked. His throat burned and tightened and for a moment he wondered if she even heard him, but she looked up at him and cried with relief.

"Ian! Oh my God, my baby," she said and hugged him. It hurt, but he would never tell her that.

"What happened?"

His mom recounted the whole story of his kidnapping, Barley rescuing him, only for Drew to try and kill him, but Ian used magic that Barley had never seen before, It took everything he had, but he caused a throwback spell that was powerful enough to break the cage and get Drew away from Barley.

That's when he lost consciousness. Barley stopped the bleeding for all of his wounds before getting his brother to the hospital. He called his mom crying.

"Where is he?" Ian asked. His mom smiled sadly.

"He went outside to get some air. You've been out for hours now and it's- it's been a scary time. You had us so worried," she said, her voice thick with new tears. Ian managed to squeeze her hand just as Barley walked back in. Their eyes locked immediately.

"Ian," he said and ran over to him and hugged him tightly. Ian managed through the pain and found comfort leaning on his brother's shoulder.

"Barley, you're okay," he said, trying not to cry himself. Their mom stood up.

"I'm going to give you boys some time to talk. I need to check in with the doctors."

With that, it was just them. Barley sat down beside Ian and put his hand on top of the one without the IV. He didn't look Ian in the eyes anymore.

"Thank God you're okay," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ian. I didn't think Drew would go after you like that, but I promise I took care of it."

"What did you do?" Ian asked, but then the moment he asked it, he realized. Barley killed him.

"I made sure I took care of it this time," he answered. Then he shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is the fact you're here, you're going to be okay and you're safe."

Now that he was out of harm's way, Ian allowed himself to go through everything that happened. He was kidnapped and tortured. He was at the mercy of someone who hated his brother more than anything else in the world and the fact he was alive was a miracle.

But Barley saved him. He faced the man Ian knew he was secretly afraid of to save him. And he killed him. Barley, his sweet, lovable, teddy bear of a big brother, ended his life. Of course, he probably would have done the same thing in his position.

"I missed you," Ian said.

"I missed you, too. I'm glad you're okay," Barley said. Ian allowed his head to fall on to Barley's shoulder and in return, felt his brother's arms wrap around him carefully this time. They both cried. "I love you so much, Ian."

"I love you, too, Barley. I knew you were coming, even if I didn't want you to."

"Well, I can't let someone take you from us, now can I?" Barley responded, with a humorless chuckle. For the first time since this happened, Ian truly felt safe. Barley was here. Everything was going to be fine. "I'll never let anyone take you from me like that. Never."

#barley lightfoot #ian lightfoot #ian onward #barley onward #onward #onward pixar #iwlg

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