#and that hand hold AND HIS TEARS AND HIM HOLDING BACK HIS SCREAM TO NOT SCARE HER

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 5,970 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

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John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. “I want to know why,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “why you left me there.” 

John shifts behind you, silent for a long moment. 

“I got too caught up in the big picture.” He finally says. “I thought that taking out Shepherd would end everything before it went too far. It’s the only way we’ll ever be safe, and I didn’t consider the lengths he’d go to, the lengths he’d let Graves go to, just to cover his own ass long enough for him to escape. I was wrong in making that decision. You’re not like us. You’ve never been left behind, tortured, had to fight your way out of an impossible situation. You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position. We all failed you. Every last one of us.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. “You left me.” 

“I know.” He says, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. He was the only one that knew you were out here last night. 

You're not sure how that makes you feel. 

It's nice on one hand, that he saved you from the pains of sleeping on the floor. But at the same time it feels like an intrusion. There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice about it. There was a time it would have been normal and expected and you would have thanked him for it. 

Now...now you're not sure. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of betrayal still aches in your chest, as much as you still want to hate them, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed as you try to blink the drowsiness away. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, a lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for the middle of fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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[davinawritings]

Werewolf neighbor that can’t hold himself back from breeding you once he smells you ovulating.

Warnings: Oral (fem receiving), Major Breeding Kink, Slight Overstimulation, Knotting

Pairing: Male Werewolf x Female Reader ( Reader could be read as human or monster or hybrid)

You had moved into his apartment complex a few weeks ago, and he had tried to keep his distance.

He had only really seen you on that first day when you were guiding the movers to your apartment, which happened to be on the same floor as his. You had given him a shy smile, and he quickly responded with a tense nod before entering his apartment and slamming the door shut, already feeling his cock hardening.

Unfortunately, he could pick up on your smell whenever you were in the hallway due to his heightened senses. It never failed to send his blood rushing to his cock, but he always managed to keep himself locked away in his apartment, rutting into his own hand.

As he hears your door unlock tonight, he waits for the inevitable moment when your delicious scent will hit his senses. Like every other day, it does, but it is much sweeter this time. His cock is almost instantly hard, and a low growl is involuntarily released from his chest.

All of his instincts are screaming at him to breed your fertile pussy, and he groans at the realization that you smell so sweet because you are ovulating. His legs move faster than his brain, and before he knows it, he is in the hallway and pacing towards the elevator where you are calmly waiting.

He grabs you and pulls you over his shoulder, causing you to gasp. “ What are you doing?” you ask. He doesn’t answer and carries you back to his apartment and bedroom. He lays you down on his bed, and you stare at him wide-eyed. He watches as your eyes trail over his tall body stopping on his throbbing cock, hidden only slightly by some gray sweatpants.

He smirks as you lick your lips. He quickly strips you of all your clothes, pulling your legs apart to settle his face between them. You let out a low whine as his breath hits your wet center. “ I’m going to get this pussy nice and ready for my cock, and then I am going to spend hours breeding this beautiful body. Got it? I’m not stopping until I’m sure you are carrying my pups”, he says, his voice rough with lust.

You moan out a simple “please”, your body on fire with need. He licks a stripe up your slit and moans, giving you a grin before burying his head in your pussy and eating you like a god. Every lick has you clawing at the sheets and moaning in pleasure.

He moves to fucking his tongue inside your already dripping cunt, and you cry out at the feeling. His snout rubs your clit as he shakes his head back and forth, and you scream as you cum on his tongue, back arching off the bed.

He crawls up your body and doesn’t wait for your orgasm to end before starting to push his thick cock into your still convulsing cunt. Tears come to your eyes at the stretch and overstimulation, but you just pull him closer, needing to feel him fill you completely.

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so good. So fucking tight around my cock. You can take it. Just a little more”, he tells you. You look down, already feeling so full, and see that there really is still more. You whine, gripping the sheets and bracing yourself for the last few inches of his impossibly large cock, wanting to take all of him.

His clawed hand wraps around your hip, and he gives one last hard shove, pushing the final few inches inside of you. “Such a good girl. Taking all my cock. Fucking perfect”, he says, and your cunt clenches at his praise.

He slowly withdraws his cock, relishing in your soft mewls, before thrusting back in and starting a brutal pace. He nips along your neck and chest as your hands claw at his shoulders and back. He never relents in his thrusts, loving the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock.

You cry out for him, your own release washing over you multiple times, but his instincts won’t allow him to stop until he has filled your womb with his seed.

He flips you over onto your stomach and enters you from behind, fucking you into the mattress. You moan at the new angle, his tip bullying your g-spot and your clit being repeatedly shoved into his silk sheets.

“I tried to leave you alone, pretty girl. I could fucking smell your sweet cunt each time you left your apartment and every fucking time I had to rut into my own fucking fist”, he says, each word followed by a harsh thrust.

“I tried, baby. I rea- fuck. I really fucking tried, but when you walked out today, I could smell this perfect fucking pussy ovulating. Your body practically screamed that it needed me to breed it. I just couldn’t hold myself back”, he growls out, and you feel his cock start growing at the base.

His knot starts catching on each thrust, expanding quickly with his fast-approaching orgasm. He switches to grinding, his knot no longer allowing him to thrust in and out of you. His cock rubs against your g-spot relentlessly as his hips grind your lower half into the bed harshly, your clit being dragged against the silk sheets over and over.

You scream in ecstasy as you cum once again, cunt clenching around his knot as you milk his cock for his seed. He growls loudly, claws digging into the mattress as his cum begins to fill your pulsing cunt, his knot keeping all of his cum locked inside of you. His short thrusts don’t stop as rope after rope of cum continues to fill you, the pressure and fullness making you whine.

After a few minutes, he finally stops and rolls you to your sides, keeping you pressed firmly to his chest and firmly locked on his knot. He releases a small chuckle when you give a small yawn and snuggle further into his chest. “Go ahead and rest, baby. You have a long night ahead of you once my knot goes down.”

🖤💕❤️❤️💕🖤

[anamateurhumanbeing]

That did not change your mind. That man had taken everything from you. Every night for the past 2 decades you see his green eyes when you go to bed, haunting you in your sleep. You spent too much time training for this moment to turn back now. You need this.

At the dead of night you quietly sneak into his house. You hear the television running. Going into the living room you find your target. From your hiding spot you can spot him on his chair, a small child with curly hair asleep on his lap. A man walks into the room. You nearly yelp and give yourself away. He looks so much like the mercenary did the night he killed your family, right down to those green eyes. But he's different enough for you to remind yourself he's not the target, his father is.

The young man picks up the child, his daughter you presume, and carries her upstairs. You wait nearly half an hour, making sure the son won't return. The monster is all alone now. A part of you hesitates. If you kill this man, take him away from his family, what makes you any better than him?

'Because I have a good reason,' you remind yourself. Your doubts fade, but there's still a small voice in the back of your head telling you to turn back now.

You make your move. You sneak up behind him, putting a hand to his mouth. You pull out your knife, bright red in colour, custom made, and hold it to his neck.

"Scream and your family dies too," you whisper. An empty threat, you have no intention of harming them. You don't plan on reveling in this too long.

"Do you remember me?" you ask as you take off your mask, revealing your own brown eyes. The former mercenary shakes his head.

"Please. I'm sorry, do whatever you want to me, just please let my family go," he begs.

That only makes you madder. "Sorry? You don't even know what you did to me, and you have the gall to apologize!" you hiss, careful not to raise your voice too much.

"I killed someone you love, no? It's what I did for a living. I was an awful man. I deserve what ever you plan on doing to me, but please don't do it here. Please leave my f-"

You sock him in the jaw. You have tears in your eyes. How dare this disgrace of a human being pretend to care.

"Why?" You ask. You told yourself you wouldn't ask, that it would not make a difference.

Tha man's expression, while still full of fear, changes into one full of shame.

"I needed the money, I-"

You don't let him finish. Hearing that your family was just a paycheck for him was too much. You scream as you plunge your knife into his chest. You pull it out, then stab him again. And again. And again. When you entered this building you told yourself that you would make it quick. You aren't a monster, you said. Yet you look down, the man's chest torn to shreds, his blood coating both of your bodies. It feels good.

You can't leave him like this. You know it will devastate his family if he disappears, but it would devastate them more if they find him like this. You pick up the corpse, and begin to carry it off, when you're interrupted by a scream. You turn around to see the man's son, holding a golf club in his hand, his face distraught.

The man takes a swing at you, which you narrowly dodge. You drop your knife and raise your hands. "Wait, you need to understand. That m-"

The second sing hits and it knocks you to the ground. He delivers a third swing to your head, you can feel some blood trickling down your face. You manage to grab your knife and slash at your attacker's leg. You attempt to run away, but he tackles you back down to the ground and begins punching your face. Without thinking you take your knife and jab it into his throat. The son falls on top of you. You push his body off of yours, and let your blade fall to the ground. You don't know how long you spend lying there.

You've killed dozens of people. You always had a reason to do so.

'He was going to kill you, you had no choice but to take his life,' you tell yourself. But you know that isn't entirely true. That man would still be alive if you hadn't come here tonight.

You sit up, and your brown eyes make contact with a pair of green eyes. The curly haired girl is standing in the doorway. She quickly runs away. You get up, and you run into the other direction, barging out of the house, out of the town. You don't even notice you left your knife on the floor. You just keep running, until you finally pause to take a breath in the woods.

What have you done? You have no idea how much that girl had seen. You hear voices and footsteps. No doubt an angry mob of townsfolk on their way to avenge their leader and his son. You take off, and eventually make your way back to the base you call a home.

You look into a mirror. Your covered in blood, some of it's yours, most of it isn't. You stay in the shower for long after it's all washed away. You still feel dirty.

You sell off most of your gear. Spend most of the money you made on getting a new identity and move nearly three states away.

You get a job as a self-defence coach. Maybe something good can come out of those years you wasted training. It's through that you meet your husband. You don't think you deserve it. The love. You confess everything, expecting him to go to the police. He says he understands, and he reassures you that you aren't that person anymore. You don't believe him. You eventually have children, twins. They're the light of your life. You try to teach them kindness, to let go of grudges instead of seeking retribution.

You still have trouble sleeping. You still see those green eyes when you close your eyes, but now they belong to a young girl.

You wake up from a nightmare. You quietly get out of bed, making sure not to wake your husband. You make your way to then kitchen for a glass of water, looking at the various family photos you've taken over then past two decades as you walk down the stairs. Once you reach the living room you pause. There's an open window. You definitely remembered closing it earlier.

Looking around the room, you notice your son left his guitar lying around. You mentally note to buy him a new one as you grab it and hold it like a weapon. Cautiously, you walk up to the window. Looking down, you see footprints in the snow leading towards it. You barely have time to process when something hits you in the head.

When you come to, you find yourself bound by ropes. It's too dark to tell where you are, but you can see a human figure standing in front of you. They're wearing nothing but black, and are holding a familiar red knife. You look up at their face, and you see a woman, with green eyes and curly hair.

"Do you remember me?" she asks.

When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- …only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.

[winwintea]

dreamies meeting their kid for the first time + as a parent

GROUP ↬ ot7 dream x reader (ft. their child)

TAGS/WARNINGS ↬ some angst, LOTS OF FLUFF MY TOOTH IS LITERALLY ROTTING, spider-mark agenda is real, the child is sometimes a cockblock, haechan does some weird michael jackson-sherlock holmes roleplay idk it made sense in my head, jaemin going on shopping sprees, chenle never loses, ji... is ji.... (poor baby)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ everyone say thank you to @https-lvesick for getting me on that baby fever stuff... like i hate children but i love children. iykwim... anyways this is meeting their kid for the first time, but i can't come up with reasons why they were separated so you fill in the blanks. probably angsty reasons i love angst.

Mark Lee

when you come back through that door with a child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

literally has no words when you smile at him gently, saying it’s his.

mark swallows nervously, before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“i.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, my love,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

as a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either.

but he tries! give him some slack — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you see your child holding a sword?! 

and of course mark was in his halloween costume. typical.

“baby.. i can explain,” mark says calmly when you first find the two of them

well actually, three; it seems haechan was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you. good strategy.

“엄마, papa said he was iron man! he teached me how to be a superhero!” your child exclaims, flailing the sword around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“well, you see, i meant spider-man, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with murderous intent.

mark slowly kneels down to whisper something you couldn't make out to your child. the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the weapon.

then, as seconds pass, mark immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“mark min-hyung lee, you are so dead!” you scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!” the two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. they’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

but you love it anyways

Huang Renjun

when you meet him at the door, there's a flurry of emotions clear on renjun's face, but his smile says it all.

“is it too much to say i’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

regrets the fact that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, literally becomes wrapped around your little one’s finger because of it.

so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, always smiling when he thinks of them.

literally makes the other members question whether or not they want a child too.

bonding time is painting of course!

usually ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, you scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“i’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” renjun's soft voice makes you forget why you were mad in the first place tbh.

massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some stubborn blue paint off your child.

“it’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and gazing into his eyes.

your lips were just about to meet, when —

“ma, i'm not clean yet!”

damn. cockblocked by your own child.

you groan, renjun laughing as he picks up the pouting child with their arms crossed.

“don’t give 妈妈 too much of a hard time, okay?” he never forgets to take care of you above all.

Lee Jeno

when you walk through that door once more, nervously telling jeno that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction.

and when you finally gather the courage to do it? his jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“아빠?” your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked jeno as you hold your breath.

he stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “yes, little one?”

very new to this whole parenting thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

plus he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well,

but you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is. so that's a plus !

you'll usually find them in jeno's room together, while you need jeno to watch your child while you go out for an errand or something.

but when you see jeno, well, he starts to look ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room.

then, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

jeno utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin. “딸,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping their wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Lee Donghyuck

haechan tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his. it's okay, let it out hyuck. <3

“ah, crying like that on our first meeting… don’t you think your fath — i’m a bit embarrassing?” he asks, sniffling as he tries to muster a smile through his tears.

your child giggles, eyes crinkling while grinning. “no! mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

you have to intervene at this point to stop him from sobbing again.

haechan wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, so he's definitely going to spoil this child every second that he can.

you’d always find the two of them either going out shopping or messing about at home

also probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what.

one day you were curious, so you peeked through a tiny crack of the open door.

genuinely concerned at what you saw.

was that a... trenchcoat on your child? the two of them were engaged in conversation as haechan started nodding with a serious look on his face.

“so, mj, do you think waffles make mummy happier?” your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up like a mic in front of haechan's face.

mj???

haechan strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, i dee-hee duce they do, sherlock!”

sherlock...?

“good deduck – deduction, mj! i thought so too.”

you can't help but snort as haechan grabs his crotch and poses while high fiving your child.

as stupid as this was, your heart literally melts. the two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. dorks. 

Na Jaemin

“i was hoping you’d be back, my dear.” his perfunctory smile is so smug that sometimes you just want to punch him in the face. “with a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, trying to ignore your anger. you were here to show your child to jaemin. jaemin looks at the two of you with surprise, the curves of his mouth inching upwards.

hey jaemin wasn't trying to be possessive... cause that's weird. but the way you emphasized the word 'your' made his breath hitch. we can unpack that later though.

for now, na jaemin is a certified sugar daddy

jaemin is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

you asked jeno the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

okay something needed to be done about this. so you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. after explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

but your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“and what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” fuck him and the words he's picked up from traveling abroad. but jaemin looked honestly confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s.

you smile softly, “isn’t it obvious, silly? the little rascal loves you more than anything.”

he laughs. he doesn't get it. preparing for yet another shopping spree. why do you even try at this point?

Zhong Chenle

oh my god. when he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, chenle has to literally take a quick second to calm down cause he’s so angry.

no, not at you, of course, he would never. but at himself.

he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Y/ — 甜心,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy bed-head hair and staring at you with eyes that practically scream "please hug me, i'm insecure"

“how am i supposed to take care of a child when i couldn’t even take care of you?”

but don't worry, after many reassuring words and warm hugs, chenle's finally okay and back to his normal self, holding your child up and giggling.

maybe this was a wrong idea cause now you have to take care of a manchild and a child.

is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. (just because he has a nephew does not mean he knows how to parent a child.)

also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks as much, so out of the dreamies, he’d end up becoming one of the better fathers.

also cause he never loses. and no way is he gonna lose an argument with a child.

“不行。” “爸爸, pleaaase?” “no. 不可以。”

chenle seemed to be holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child trying to ignore their pleading puppy dog eyes.

“妈妈说 no chocolate, right?” your heart warms when you realize he remembered you scolding your child yesterday, though you can’t help but to feel a little bad.

“chenle,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “how about you give the little baby some chocolate and we can eat the eggs i just made in the kitchen?”

the way both their eyes shine almost identically is so fucking adorable.

Park Jisung

??!?>!?!>?>!?@#?>(*#(@*(*#!?!@?

“that’s… mine??” “what?” “… it?” “it?” “the.. child?”

actually malfunctions.

jisung is very flustered, for lack of better terms. he was always considered the baby maknae of dream, but his own child? lord, help him.

you... him.... the baby... it or they.. came out of you??? what.

gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the building. everyone tries to stop and coo at the baby, + chenle and haechan have decided to make his life a living hell cracking up jokes whenever they can.

jisung is surprisingly good at getting your chaotic child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his big yap sessions.

“and did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing uncle chenle and uncle haechan?” you question the two of them, wondering what they had been talking about earlier.

your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and grinning, “아빠 also said, ‘get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

oh fuck.

your accusatory gaze turns towards jisung, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead, trying to shield himself from possibly getting more bruises.

“i-in my defense, they were—”

“one more time, park jisung, and i’m changing their legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love and appreciate so so much.”

his eyes widen in shock, “you wouldn’t.”

“try me.”

now jisung is a grumbling mess when the two idiots are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around can be counted as an upgrade, i guess.

TAGLIST ↬  @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct @peterm4rker

[earth4angels]

HOUR OF THE STARS 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⠀⠀𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: love had two endings. every ending that was read in the book of the fate never appealed to anyone. it was either to accept the one you love walk down the aisle with someone else or to kill anything that stood your way. ⠀⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst with no happy endings. major character death. mentions of adultery? short quick lovemaking. mentions of blood/gore. reader takes control, shes heartbroken, sad. the dance did not happen. jacaerys had his wife chosen to become king. very short one shot.

The invitation from House Targaryen seemed as though it burned through your vanity, the weight of its contents mocked you. Your cold dainty fingers ran through the expensive parchment paper, the words burning through your brain. The words kept repeating over and over, your mouth moved in silence reading the heading. You did not know whether or not to begin to allow the salty tears your eyes were holding back to pool its way down your cheeks or to scream into the void of your window where the clouds were your only comfort.

You knew this day was coming. The denial carried on your shoulders, the hope overcoming the fears that denied you sleep every night. Every kiss, every touch, every whisper and moan as hands roamed bodies late at night held desperation to dishonor the duties from birth.

A choked sobbed ripped from your chest as you crumbled onto the coldness of your floor. The knife twisted and pushed so deep you gasped as every tear pooled along your embroidered dress.

HOUSE TARGARYEN INVITES YOU TO JOIN THE UNION OF: PRINCE JACAERYS VELARYON AND PRINCESS BAELA TARGARYEN.

The reality now stared at you washing away every hope that you held onto as you allowed to love with every pounding moment. This was no one's fault but yours and your lover that kissed you promising he would fight for your hand and no matter what his mother - the queen - said he would never leave you.

That night as you held the rich parchment paper that smelled like oakwood and faint salty waters, you cried loudly as the stars rained down by the permission of the Gods who allowed a shower of sadden angels carry your pain.

Several nights passed and the Vale held a sentiment of loneliness and white silence. Locked away in your chambers you sat with your head empty, your chest remained with a gaping hole. Your heart remained in the hands of the honorable man that begged to see you one last time.

Your eyes were wide open staring blankly at the clouds that moved against your windows. You wore nothing but your sleeping silks. Every single day passed, and you repeated a cycle that was forcing your legs to move towards the warmth waters of your bath and back to the bed. A cycle that never wavered considering the fact you felt like the time had stopped and all you had left was death.

The pages of your book felt hard against your fingers that shivered from the open window of your balcony. Your long hair covered your features from the ravens and the moon that only wanted to console the pain. The door creaked open; your fingers only stopped trailing the words of the passage though you made no move to look at the intruder of your silence.

"You will catch a cold if you allow the cold air in more," the voice that made you weak in the legs made you flutter like a mockingbird's wings. You were afraid to look into the eyes that made you want to drown.

"Can you look at me?" He said as he stepped closer, his red cloak trailed the paleness of your floors. The moon shined a light upon his skin making him glow. "Please."

Your voice was soft, low that at first it sounded like nothing to Jacaerys but then he understood. You never moved; he watched as your hands held onto the hard cover of the book you read tightly; he saw the faint lines of your veins protruding.

"To what can I serve you Prince Jacaerys?"

Your words were like sharp knives stabbing him repeatedly. He deserved it, he failed to convince his mother of his true love. The one he truly wanted to marry and walk along him as his Queen. His mother's words repeated in the back of his head like a reminder of his duties as future king of The Seven Kingdoms.

"As I was your age, I had to marry to bring honor and because it was my duty as heir. I know you will do the same, and there is nothing better than unifying the family and making our blood stronger than marrying Princess Baela."

The burden of being an older son, the heir to the throne suddenly felt too hard for him. He was raised with responsibilities, honor and faith. There was only ever a woman to him and that was you, who avoided his gaze as all he had to gaze softly to be the silhouette of your smooth back.

"Y/n... please. I am deeply --"

You scoffed, throwing your book across the room, you raised your hand to stop him. "I beg your pardon. Are you truly sorry?"

"I am. I wanted to tell you first; I wanted to be the one to deliver my failed attempts to beg my mother to allow me to court you officially instead of hiding in the shadows of our walls!"

Jacaerys never raised his voice, but he was desperate, angry and most of all he was hurt. He was minutes away from walking away from the one person who kept him uphold and strong. You were the person that lifted his spirits, the person he would choose over anyone if he could over and over.

Finally with a tear that slipped from your dull eyes, you faced him, your figure frail and delicate compared to the woman he was used to seeing. The strong, fierce lady of the Vale who was good with her swords stood upon him with dark circles and chapped lips, her hair that was constantly braided in pretty twirls was in tangles.

"You are standing in front of me spurting lies, Prince Jacaerys. I would like for you to leave and never come back."

His title never sounded more humilating than coming from your mouth. He cringed at the coldness of your voice that cracked towards the end. He was not going to leave; he will never leave you.

"No, my lady. I will not."

You sniffled, your lips curling into a tight line.

"What do you want from me? What more do you want? I saw the invitation; I knew this was coming and I was a fool! I held an illusion that you and I could ever be! The worse part of this union is not that we were given false hope but..." You paused, the tears feeling like hot trails of lava down your cold cheeks, "You promised to try."

It was then his strong facade fell. The sounds of your choked sobs that you fought hard to keep within was enough to send him to the pits of the Gullet. He had told Baela of his relationship, and she was regretful, full of pity for her cousin that had no choice but to follow the tradition of their family.

"Go to her Jace," was all she said before she placed a warm hand on his shoulder and a soft kiss on his cheek. "The least you could do is give her peace."

Jacaerys moved, his feet like an instinct walked towards the one that made his heart throb so loudly he feared the Gods heard. You stood with your head in your hands as you sobbed, holding in the cries that began to hurt your chest and throat. He wrapped his strong arms around you, never moving, never once debating if he should step away. When you began to fight against his hold, your yelps of hurt as you swatted at his chest repeatedly, he only held you as he cried with you.

"I love you more than the stars loves the sky, more than the moon loves the sun, more than air and anything in the world."

You sobbed against his chest, your head shaking in disbelief, "No. No. No. No."

Jacaerys held your face, his heart breaking in tiny pieces that had no repair. He cried as he nodded, the tears streamed down his freckled cheeks rapidly, his lashes carrying the droplets of a broken future. "I love you. I do. I love you more than anyone. I am so sorry. I am sorry I failed. I am sorry I cannot give you what I promised --"

You interrupted his ramble as you swallowed his pain with yours. The kiss was wet, desperate and filled with agony that had both lovers crying a future they wanted to fulfil.

"One last time. Please."

Jacaerys broke away in a short exhale, he trembled, "I cannot... Baela."

You smiled softly, "You have not married her, and after today you will never see me again."

He shook his head, denying the cold truth, "No... You cannot leave me. I can try again. I can end the marriage. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives."

You only smiled tearfully, the words igniting a huge hole that had you wanting to throw yourself to an angry dragon at the pit of King's Landing.

"Jacaerys," you shushed him, your hands brushing back the wet strands of his curls, "I love you. My heart is always and forever will be yours."

He gathered you in his arms as he whimpered, "Y/n... please. Don't give up. I have not, I will fight my mother -"

You kissed him once again, this time with more force as you made sure you marked your scent, your presence deep in his skin. He moaned with a deep need to forever be in your hold. He wanted more, he needed you to bond yourself with him one last time.

As you laid him in the fur of your bed, you leaned over him. Capturing his hands as you laid kisses on his palm, memorizing every bump, tethered skin and beauty marks that made him real. He only watched quietly, his hands on your thighs, trailing a path of recorded memories that he will always remember.

Your lips trailed his skin, counting how many kisses and slight bites it took to reach his forbidden lips. Your words marked a poem that will never leave his mind till the day they burn his body by dragon fire.

"In this space right here that we have made for each other," you kissed his chest, your fingers removing every piece of clothing one by one, "You can say anything, and I will not abandon you..." You sat on his lap watching him with teared eyes matching his, slowly you placed your lips upon his, never moving, just allowing the breath of his broken heart ink itself into your soul. Finally, you said, tears flowing, splattering upon Jacaerys' cheeks, "Unwrap the worst things you have done and watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch."

He gasped, his eyes widening when he felt you sink onto his cock so painfully slow all he did was cry as he held you. In a rhythm of loud sobs and tearful kisses, you allowed to be surrendered by the heat of Jacaerys Velaryon, your king, one last time.

Jacaerys never flinched when you marked his skin, he counted every lash on your eyelids, every mark on your skin from the wars you had been through. He kissed and licked every part of your body that left you crying his name out into the cold air. From afar he heard his dragon, his soul bonded mate roar into the air and he smiled. He smiled as you trembled into his hold, he smiled as you opened your eyes as much as you could to watch as his mouth devoured your insides. He smiled against your skin when your fingers tugged into his curls as his tongue was deep in your haven, he smiled when he felt the juices of your nectar flow down his throat, he smiled tearfully against your neck as he profoundly declared the love he had for you.

He smiled with trembling hands that held yours in complete silence as he begged to look at him straight in the eye one last time, coming together from the highs you were going to miss. He groaned as he released his seed deep inside you, marking your walls and your entire being as his.

In silence, you watched as he gathered his things, clipping his cloak onto his vest. He moved towards you and wrapped you around his waist as he prepared a bath for you. When you complained to wash him, he swatted your hand aside.

"What am I to let you do that for me? Tonight, let me treat you my beautiful love."

You did not know how much you could cry, but every touch of his had you with a final decision. Life without Jacaerys was not possible. So, as he playfully ticked you, and washed your hair delicately with a gentle smile on his tired face you stared in silence, memorizing for the final moments of your life how it felt to be loved by a man who had no choice but to follow a duty.

He sat by you, his back pressed against the headboard of your wide bed, you laid against him. He said nothing and you were okay with that fact. You were also just appreciating the happiest times of your life. His fingers played with your hands as he laid kisses on your head, he took a deep breath, breathing in your scent of vanilla.

He swore as he heard you fall asleep against him, mummering against the open shoulder of yours, "I promise, I will make you my wife, my Queen, no matter the consequence. You and I are meant to rule together. I promise."

That promise never became true.

On a full moon, where the stars rained down from the heavens. The rushed steps he took as he desperately wanted to make his petition to his mother. He stopped, the hopeful smile that laid on his lips slipping, there, beside his mother stood Lady Jeyne Arryn in black. His eyes quickly scanned for your bright, beautiful face, seeing you nowhere, he felt the surge of pain. The pain was so deep it felt like he was burned alive, like water seeping into his lungs and he wanted to scream for help.

On the night of a half-moon, hidden behind numerous clouds, no stars in sight, you had taken your life in the cruelest way. Among the highest mountain where you had given your maidenhood to the love of your life, you had taken poison. The guards of your home found you with a smile on your face as your entire body was covered in blood, you choked in your own blood as the crows made a feast of your cold body. Upon records, you went missing for a week, the day after you saw Jacaerys you had met with a witch to make a drink to die peacefully.

With holes in your body, like the hole of your chest you refused to live further with, you laid at peace knowing that perhaps in another universe like the stories in the library, you had found a forever with the prince.

There Jacaerys stood years later, now with a crown on his head. Life without you was hard, but he pushed beyond the pain he felt every single passing moon. He knew you would have wanted him to live. So he did, he lived and began his rule. Jacaerys the Gentle, the Wise. The kingdom never saw their king with a smile, and stories will tell of the tale of doomed lovers and the Queen who could have been.

Vermax stood by his rider, growling in pain. He too missed your presence. Jacaerys stood quietly, his face now older, the age of two and nine now making its way to his once youthful features. A tear fell upon his stoic face, he smiled as he saw a shooting star flash across the skies.

He vowed, knowing you could hear him. He believed it. He knew that every brush of wind that made itself known, was you. He knew that every time he flew across the skies, and he saw the skies filled with stars, was you.

"If the Gods have her, or to whom, protects her until we meet again. Please tell her, that when the sun goes down, I think of her. Please tell her, that I never once forgot the sound of her voice calling my name." He choked in his begging, "Please. To whoever has her, please let her know that she lives in my heart and that everywhere I go I will always, forever see her face."

A flower was left in the spot you were found years ago. As King Jacaerys Targaryen flew away, he softly reminded the wide skies that carried a love, "I love you, always and forever, till we meet again my love."

TAGLISTS:

jace nation (open): @thenotesapppoet @agqrtz @girlthatislost @writtenapoiogy @vividxpages @smurfelle @number-0-iz @star611 @intheheartoftheking @nixtape-foryou @velaryonbastard @still-jon-snow @ethereal-athalia natties angel list (open): @aemondvelaryon @peri4stral @yohanseyebrowmole mooties, slut cult: @cregnstark @divinesolas @hxtd @benjinotes @bucksplum @eldrith @princessbellecerise @xxselenite @bryscorner @vee-mage @v3lary0ns @swordgrace @housetargaryenloyalist @astrxq @manhandlememando

[manheeiim]

Nothing Lasts Forever - Gone Too Early

Warning: Season 4 Finale Spoiler Ahead

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I ran through the crumbling building, my goggles pushed up my face, headscarf covering my hair as I ran around looking for JJ. He had left for a few moments to help the others and we were now separated and I was alone, scared for my life.

I had never thought that my life would come to the point that I was in another country for the nth time, running from people. I was now always running from people ever since I met JJ and the other pogues.

I look around as I call out for my boyfriend when suddenly, someone comes up from behind, grabbing me harshly, one hand grips my shoulder while the other holds a knife up to my neck.

I scream and immediately I'm being shushed so I oblige, scared for my life. I didn't even know who was behind me but I had a few guesses.

I could hear footsteps and JJ came running in he froze for a moment as he saw the position that me and whoever was holding me were in. He then comes over, holding onto the bag that held the crown.

"Let her go!" He firmly told whoever was holding me.

"Stop right there." The man behind me tells JJ and so he does. "You know what I want." He tells JJ and even I knew what he was talking about. The crown, he wanted the crown.

"Just let her go." JJ says and I really hope that he just gives the crown to this man to get me out of this situation but really, I had no real doubt that he would.

"You could've stuck with me JJ. Think what you could've had." The man says and immediately I know that it's his dad. His real dad.

I'm whimpering in fear as this all happens as I look into my boyfriend's eyes, waiting for him to just give the guy the damn crown. He looks me back in my eyes before looking over at his dad.

"You want the crown. Sure, take it. Take it. I don't want it. Just let Lucia go." He firmly says.

His dad reaches out for it and JJ hands it to him, his other hand immediately grabbing onto me as he exchanges the crown for me. He holds me close as he pulls me away, leaning down and hugging me tightly.

I relax into his hold and start to cry a bit in fear as we hold one another close.

"It's okay. It's okay." He softly says and I pull away a little before kissing him. We pull away after a few moments and he looks down at me.

"JJ." I hear his dad say. JJ reluctantly turns around to face his dad. "It's a shame. You and me." His dad says and I sigh.

There's then a movement from his dad, a squelching noise, and JJ is bending down a little, a groan falling from his lips. I freeze, not able to process what had just happened. I back away a little and then I see, the knife in JJ's stomach. I gasp, my whole body now shaking in fear, not knowing what to do.

I watch in fear as his dad shoves the knife deeper into him, "You should have.. given me.. the rope." His dad says before pulling the knife out of him. JJ falls back a bit and I hold onto him as his dad stands there for a moment before running off.

"JJ..." I say, voice shaking. "JJ." I say a bit louder, the panic setting in. He falls to the ground and I kneel down with him. "No, no. No. Please, no. No." I'm stammering, tears sliding down my cheeks.

He's coughing, choking, stammering and I'm freaking out, my hand trying to stop the bleeding even though obviously that wouldn't work.

"I- I don't know what to do." I sob, feeling like I was making this even worse by not knowing what to do.

His hand comes up to my face before moving to my head, caressing my head over the scarf weakly. "Lucia.." He mutters out.

My heart drops even more than it already did, "No, no, don't." I say, knowing what he was going to say.

"Lucia, I love you. I love you so much." JJ says, despite my rejection. I find myself sobbing as I lean my head into his chest. "We're- we're not going to be able to have what we wanted. The- the big kook house with dogs and kids- kids of our own. I'm s-sorry, baby." He stammered out, using a lot of energy even to just say that.

Those words hit my heart so deeply, hurting it in a way I've never felt before. I'd never felt this type of pain before. Never in my life.

"Don't say that." I sob against his chest. "Don't!"

"I love you, Lucia. I love you." I say and after a few moments, I feel his body still and his hand slowly drops from my head. I freeze, quickly pulling away and I could see his body completely still and his eyes shut.

"JJ." I say. "JJ. JJ? JJ. Please, JJ. Please answer me!" I sob, shaking his body but he's limp. "No!" I cry out. "No! No! No!" I sob loudly as hug his body. "No!" I scream in internal pain as I cry against his skin.

I don't even realize it when the others come running over and crowd JJ and me. I don't. I'm completely in my own world as I sob in utter pain and sorrow. He was gone. He was dead. JJ was dead.

The man who, yeah, I planned to live in a nice Kook house with, with dogs and our own kids, was dead. Sure, I knew that would never happen but I was okay living the life we already lived, as long as it meant that I was with him.

What was I going to do without him? What was I going to do? He was all I wanted and now, I could have him no longer. JJ was the only one who really fully understood me. The only person I ever fully opened up to. I couldn't imagine being like that with anyone else and he was gone. Gone.

Sure, he made some stupid choices and sure, he didn't have the best life but that never mattered to me. I knew that all too well. I could never judge him for it. I'd always love him despite that.

Maybe I should've known that this day would come. I probably should've. Maybe in the back of my mind, I did know. If it hadn't been today it likely would've been another day. Especially with the way things were going leading up to this day.

I should've known that nothing lasts forever.

THE END

[winchesterwild78]

The Demon and Me pt 2

Master List 

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Demon Dean, Angst, Language, SMUT! 

TW: Demon Dean is very rough in bed. The sex will be consensual, however I wanted to write a warning because it’s not going to be sweet and fluffy. 

A/N: Oh Demon Dean…he makes me feral-sorry not sorry. Just a short story that popped in my head. I have a ton of chapters for other stories half written, but I couldn’t help myself. Dean is now a demon and the reader is left with the weight of his absence, he shows up in her hotel room, and leaves her reeling, Sam and Cass arrive, and Cass gives the reader some unexpected news. 

Minors DNI 18+

A panic filled my body. Then the light turned on. “Looking for this darlin’?” Dean was standing in my room, holding my demon blade. I gasped, “Dean.”

“Hey sweetheart, looking good in my shirt.” His eyes flashed black and then green. I grabbed the blanket and covered my exposed body. 

“Dean, what are you doing here? How did you get in here” I knew the question was stupid before I even asked it. He knows how to pick a lock. That’s how he got in. 

He stepped closer, tossed the knife to the side and smirked, “I couldn’t stay away from you. Your smell is intoxicating. I need you baby.” 

I pulled the blanket up further as he stepped closer. My head low and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. I knew he was still a demon, but hearing his voice and seeing his green eyes look at me like he loves me was just too much. 

“Dean, I’m not your baby anymore. You don’t love me. You chose this over me, over us.” I couldn’t look at him. My voice was shaking and I felt the sting of the tears. 

Dean stepped to the side of the bed I was on. The one I always slept on, away from the door. Dean’s side was closest to the door so he could protect me. At least that’s what he always told me. 

I could feel his body heat. Then his hand gently cupped my face and turned it up and towards him. I looked at him, his face was soft and I thought I saw the love he had for me. 

“Sweetheart, please. I do love you. I want to be with you. You swore you’d love me no matter what. Remember Cass said we’re soulmates. We belong together, no matter what happens.” 

Tears started to fall, his thumb gently wiping them away. I instinctively leaned into his touch. It had been so long. 

“What about the girl from the bar?” I asked in a soft voice. “What about her? Why would I want her when I have you?” 

My breath hitched, “Dean, I..” I couldn’t finish the sentence, he captured my lips in a soft kiss. My mind is reeling. He was so gentle I lost myself in his kiss. I got up on my knees, meeting him and kissing him deeper. His hands gently pulled me to his chest, and I moaned. 

I pulled back, needing air and I looked in his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of green I’d seen. “Dean, I miss you. Please..” Dean’s hands ran up my body, tracing every curve I’d learned to love because he loved them. He removed the shirt and his lips trailed down my collar bone and to my full breasts. 

My head leaned back and I moaned. My body responding to his touch, I could feel the slick forming between my thighs. I knew my panties were soaked. Dean leaned my body back and he positioned himself between my legs. His bulge pressing against my panties. 

His hands and lips trailed over my body, he kissed every scar and every stretch mark like he was memorizing my body again. Dean’s hands stopped at the hem of my panties, his eyes flicked to mine. I nodded and lifted my hips. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my heart and my body needed him. 

As he removed my panties his hands slid in between my folds. I heard a soft growl from his lips, “All this for me sweetheart?” I moaned and nodded. “Use your words.” “Yes, Dean, please I need you.” His tongue and mouth attached to my clit and pussy. I quivered under his touch. 

He sucked and licked like a starved man. I came almost instantly. Dean lapped up my juices. I moaned and squirmed under him. His grip tight on me as he pushed me towards another release. I came almost as fast the second time, this time his name leaving my lips loudly. 

As Dean helped me ride out my second release my senses were completely gone. Dean, my Dean was the one making me feel like this. My heart ached for it to be true. 

As Dean picked his head up, smiling down at me in my euphoric state. “Mmm look at you sweetheart. You tasted so sweet, different but sweet, almost new.” I smiled up at him and pulled him down to kiss my lips. “I love you, Dean.” 

A smirk tugged on his lips. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and removed his jeans and boxers. His hard length sprang free. I bit my lip, I really missed him. “Dean, baby, please take me.” Dean positioned himself between my legs and his green eyes turned black as coal. 

I gasped as he slammed his cock deep inside me. “Dean, baby, come back to me. I don’t want you like this, please.” “Oh baby girl, you wanted this, remember?” His eyes flashed back to green, but he kept up his brutal pace. 

He would pull out and slam back inside, hitting my cervix and pulling a half scream, half moan from my mouth. “Oh this pussy, it’s all mine.” My legs were in the air, draped over his shoulder as he kept slamming into me. My tits were bouncing so much they started to hurt. 

Tears formed in my eyes. Dean was never this rough, but god my body craved him. Dean held me down, slipped one of his strong hands around my throat. “You take my cock so good baby. Fuck! This pussy was made for me. You better not let anyone ever fuck you. You, your pussy belongs to me.” 

I felt like I was going to pass out, throw up and cum again. Dean’s mouth covered mine in a deep, hard kiss. “Dean, please, slow down.” I begged. “No! I will take you how I want. You’re mine.” I laid under Dean, feeling his hands grip my body tight as he pounded into me. 

In one swift movement, Dean had flipped my body over and pulled me on my knees. He slammed into me, pulling my ass up and pushing my face into the pillows. His large hands gripped my hips as he continued his brutal assault on me. Then without warning his large hand came down and smacked my right ass cheek, hard. I yelped in pain.

Dean was getting close. “I’m going to fill this little pussy up with my seed. Fuck a baby into you. I know you want that.” “Oh Dean, please baby, not like this.” My pleas fell on deaf ears as tears fell. Dean was spilling his hot seed deep inside me. His grunts and groans filled the room. 

After he came he stood, put his clothes back on and left without a word. I laid on the bed naked, a complete mess and utterly alone. I was ashamed I gave into him, and my heart broke because he used me then left. 

I felt his cum spilling out of me. As I got up to clean myself, I winced at the pain in my body. Dean’s marks were peppering my skin and between my legs was so sore. 

I allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I cleaned myself up, laid a devil’s trap out, something I should have done before, and crawled back into bed. The smell of Dean on the sheets and my body. I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach that filled my body. 

As I laid there I felt the bile creeping up my throat. Throwing the blanket back, I leaped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I sobbed as I began to vomit. Emptying what little contents there was into the toilet. 

After I was sure I was done I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. I crawled back into bed, pulled the blanket around me and exhaustion took over. 

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the phone and it was Sam. I had no idea what I was going to tell him, how could I tell him I found Dean, allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I felt the familiar feeling fill my stomach, I was so ashamed of what I had allowed, it was making me physically sick. 

I answered the phone, voice very weak, “Hey Sam.” “Oh thank god! Y/N, where are you? I got your note and called your sister. She said you broke down and had to stay waiting on the part. Are you okay? You sound off.” 

“No, I’m not. I found him, Sam. I found Dean and Crowley. I wasn’t looking and they were in the bar I went to last night. Sam I…” My voice trailed off. Not sure how much more I could admit. “Y/N, Cass and I are on our way. Tell me where you are. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

I sighed and told him where I was. “We will be there soon, and Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Just stay away from him until we get there.” I thought to myself that was easier said than done. Even though Dean was brutal last night, my heart and body ached for him. I still loved him, and would never give up hope he still loved me. 

After a few hours of laying in the bed I decided to take a hot shower and go find something to eat. Before I left the room, my phone went off with a text notification.

Crowley: I told you to stay away from him. Now all he can talk about is how you tasted last night, how it was different, sweeter, innocent.

Me: I woke up with him in my room you asshole. I didn’t invite him over. Besides, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. 

Crowley: No, but you definitely invited him in, didn’t you. Now you’ve complicated things and you’re going to pay.

Me: What’s wrong Crowley, is there a little trouble in paradise? His love for me is too strong to keep up this bro fest? You know if you hurt me, Dean will never forgive you. It doesn’t matter how long he stays a demon, I know his love for me keeps me protected, and you know it too.

Crowley: We’ll see.

I sighed as I put my phone away. Walking outside the sun was shining and the air was cool. I walked to the diner on the corner to grab some food and saw Bubba. “Well howdy, Miss. I was about to call you. I was able to get in touch with my friend and he has a hose that will fit. His wife is going to deliver it later today so I should have you up and running by this evening.” “Oh that’s great, thank you so much.” He nodded and walked away.

I walked into the diner, I could hear the clinking of dishes and chatter fill the room. The waitress smiled and told me to sit wherever I wanted, so I grabbed the corner booth at the back of the diner. Dean had taught me to find the furthest table from the entrance so I could see everyone coming and going. 

The waitress came over and took my order. I sat stirring my coffee, a weird feeling creeping up from inside. I played last night over and over in my head, along with what Dean and Crowley kept telling me about me “tasting different, sweeter, or smelling like vanilla and cookies.” It was really strange. In all the time Dean and I had been together, he had never said that to me. 

By the time my food came I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize it had arrived. “Ma’am, here’s your food.” The waitress’ words pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, “Thank you.” She nodded and walked away. 

I ate what I could, still feeling sick, paid my bill then left. I decided it was probably a good idea to stay in the room until Sam arrived. When I got back to the room, I turned on the TV, laid down and fell back asleep. The dream I had sent my head reeling. 

*Dream*

Dean had just gotten home from work. He loved his job as a mechanic and was working towards his own shop. I stayed at home working towards my degree. Dean and I were also expecting. Our first child, a boy, was due in a little over 3 months.

I hadn’t realized I was pregnant until I kept getting sick and Dean jokingly brought home a pregnancy test. Taking the test into the bathroom I sat it down, walked away and forgot about it. Dean and I had just sat down for dinner when he asked if we knew if I was knocked up yet. I gasped and told him I forgot about the test. Dean and I went to the bathroom and saw the two lines. 

We were shocked, excited, but shocked. Dean had been having Cass come down at least twice a week to check on me and the baby. It was endearing at how excited and scared he was. When we found out I was having a boy, Dean beamed with pride. 

As I stood cooking dinner, Dean had just come home, showered and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my pregnant belly, kissed my cheek and rubbed my belly. “How are my babies today?” He asked softly in my ear. “We are good, we’re glad Daddy is home, though.” 

Dean smiled, spun me around, kissed my lips and said, “I’m glad I’m home too. I missed you two.” “I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

*End of Dream*

As Dean said he loved me in the dream I woke up, reeling. My heart ached for that life. A normal life, Dean back being Dean, and us together with children. Now with him as a demon and gone, that isn’t possible. 

When I looked over at the clock I realized I had been asleep for hours. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Sam.

Sam: Hey, we are about half an hour out. When we get into town we will head straight to you.

You: Hey, sorry I was asleep. It’s been about 30 minutes since you sent that text, are you close?

As I hit send there was a knock at the door. I walked over, looked through the peephole and saw Sam. I unlocked the door and opened it. 

“Hey Sam, Cass.” Sam pulled me into a hug, “Hey, Y/N. How are you doing? Did he hurt you?” Tears pricked my eyes, “No, Sam. He didn’t hurt me. I just…” My voice trailed off as Cass stepped closer to me, looking concerned.

“Cass, we’ve talked about personal space, buddy.” “Yes, but you smell different, Y/N. You smell like sex, cookies and vanilla.” I whipped my head towards him, “Why the hell does everyone keep saying that. You, Crowley, Dean!” Sam stepped closer, “I don’t smell anything, Y/N.” 

Cass was right beside me and inhaled deeply, “That’s because you’re human. Y/N, you smell like…” His words stopped and his eyes went wide. My heart beat fast.

“I smell like what Cass?” “Y/N, I think you’re pregnant.” The room fell silent. The only sound was the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Cass, what?” Sam asked, finally breaking the silence. “I think Y/N is pregnant. That’s why she smells like cookies and vanilla. I don’t know why she would smell like sex, though.” I hung my head.

“Cass, are you telling me because I smell like cookies and vanilla you think I’m pregnant?” “Yes, pregnancy always has the same smell, cookies and vanilla.” “But I can’t be pregnant. Dean’s been gone almost 2 months and I haven’t slept with anyone but him.”

Sam stepped closer, touched my arm, “Is it possible, before Dean died and was turned into a demon the two of you had sex and made a baby?” “I guess it’s possible, Dean and I had a lot of sex, so I guess it could be possible. 

I stood in stunned silence. “Y/N, what happened when you saw Dean yesterday?” Sam’s voice low, but full of concern. I hung my head, “I woke up to him in my room, and we…um..” My voice trailed off. Sam’s eyes flashed with understanding, “Oh Y/N, please tell me you didn’t.” My voice barely a whisper, “I’m sorry Sam, he was my Dean again.” Sam gently touched my arm, “No, he’s not. He used you.”

“Don’t you think I know that!? I gave him myself again because I still fucking love him, and after he used me, he just left. Without a word, he grabbed his stuff and walked away. I’m so fucking stupid! Now Cass is telling me I might be pregnant. Sam, what am I going to do? Dean and I wanted children, but Demon Dean, could you imagine him with a baby!?” Tears started falling hard and fast, my chest rising and falling as my breathing quickened. 

Sam didn’t say a word, he stepped closer to me, wrapped me in his arms and held me as I sobbed. “Shh, it’s okay, we will figure this out. First we need to know for sure if you’re pregnant.” 

I nodded and wiped my eyes. Sam said he’d be back, he was going to run to the drug store and get a test and some other things, leaving me with Cass.

The silence was awkward at first, then I spoke softly. “Cass you told me there was a plan for Dean and I, is this what it was? For us to fall in love, for him to become a demon and leave me alone raising our child, without him?” “No, the plan is still in place, you, this child will bring Dean back.” My eyes met his, “What do you mean, Cass?” “This baby is what will help bring Dean back. This child, the product of true love, is destined for great things.” 

I looked at him, not believing what he was saying. I still wasn’t convinced I was pregnant. Then the thought kept playing in my head, what if he’s right. What if I am pregnant and this brings Dean back to me, to us. 

As we sat in silence my heart filled with a mixture of emotions. I was excited at the thought of having Dean’s baby, terrified to do it alone, and even more sad I would have to do it alone. 

What if Cass was wrong, what if Dean, well Demon Dean didn’t care about our child. What if he chose to stay a demon instead of being with me and our child. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Sam walked in holding a plastic bag. He pulled out two different types of pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “I didn’t know which one to get and if you are pregnant you should start taking these. He said as he shook the bottle at me. 

I nodded, took the two boxes in my hand and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. 

I grabbed one of the disposable plastic cups I use to rinse out my mouth and collected my urine in it. I dipped the first test in, replaced the cap and repeated it with the second test. 

One of the tests was your standard test, the other was digital. They both took about the same amount of time. I sat on the side of the tub waiting. The few minutes I had to wait felt like it drug on for hours. 

There was a soft knock at the door, “Hey, Y/N, you okay,” Sam asked softly. “Yeah, just waiting. I’ll be out soon.”

Sam didn’t push. He knew you were going through a lot, he was going through a lot. So he figured with this new possibility you were probably extra anxious. 

Your phone dinged indicating the timer was done. You stood on shaky legs, swallowed hard and picked up the first test. Two lines. You softly gasped, picking up the second test, the digital one. Pregnant was on the screen. 

Tears fell as an overwhelming wave of love, excitement, sadness and anger filled your body. You softly placed your hands on your belly. 

You opened the door to Sam standing anxiously, “Well?” He asked as he stepped closer. I looked at Sam and buried my face in his chest, “I’m pregnant, Sam.” Sam held me protectively, “okay, we will figure it out. We will keep the two of you safe.” He then placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. 

I had no idea what I was going to do. 

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[adrift-in-thyme]

Anyone up for an angsty little fic? XD

I wrote this for whumptober but never could find a prompt that fit it. So I’m publishing it now instead!

CW for blood and injury, referenced torture, and burn wounds

———————————————————

The world is blinding and it burns.

Time grits his teeth, turns from it in an effort to escape the light. Endless and crackling, reaching out, snapping back, a whip seeking an unsuspecting back.

Someone is screaming. He knows it is not him.

“What-what…no!” A foot clad in crimson stomps once, twice, a masked face bobbing in time with it. “No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Fools. Time thinks. Fools and cowards.

The Yiga have brought this upon themselves.

Days, perhaps weeks of torture and experimentation have led to this. He only wishes he could have stopped it. Not for their sake. No, never for theirs. For all he cares, they can writhe beneath lightning’s brutal claws, screech, and scramble like insects trying to escape a boot.

Not for their sake does guilt pierce his soul. For Sky’s.

He lies in the center of the room, the sun in the center of a universe of destruction. Trembling with power, choking on fear, his cries ring in the hero’s ears like the bells in the Temple of Time.

The Yiga are running – the surviving ones, at least. Time can smell the smoke of their stealthy escapes. It hardly manages to permeate the heavy scent of electric death.

He breathes in, exhale hitching as he tries to move. His wounds ache and blood clings to him, dripping from the shreds of his tunic. He must get up though, he must get free.

He has to reach Sky before this power tears him apart.

The ropes around his wrists are frayed, bristling with the relentless aggression of his struggles. Day after day the Yiga had yanked him back, sliced at the fingers trying to pull at the hulking knots, aimed kicks at his stomach, his head, his back – anything to get him to cease trying to escape.

Cease trying to reach Sky.

His throat aches from shouting his name. His head pounds from sobbing.

Time contorts throbbing hands in a half-circle his wrists shriek against, pawing desperately at the same bonds that have held fast all this time.

Their strength had not been their own. This moment, they crumple beneath his force. This moment, they fall.

He is up in an instant, scrambling, gritting his teeth against the way everything shouts and screams and erupts into dazzling bursts of light and color, color and light that all take on the shade of red.

He coughs. Something damp and clammy hits the ground.

“Sky!”

One of his feet isn’t moving right. It feels like someone has wrenched it off, screwed it back on backwards. It doesn’t matter. What won’t move, will be dragged.

“Sky!”

“Time!”

The eyes that turn, tear-filled and pleading to him, match the tongues of lightning that lash out at his unarmored form. They are like the shooting stars he and Malon used to watch as they blazed across the Hyrulean sky.

Sky inhales and the force of it is nails scraping against metal, calloused fingers against a blade.

“Help me!”

The scream is a collection of shattered glass, raining down upon the room in terrible, glinting projectiles. Time winces with the pain of it.

“I’m coming.”

He chokes it out more than speaks it.

“I’m coming, Sky, just…”

He coughs again, stumbles, catches himself on the wall. It is wet with a substance he would rather not contemplate the existence of. He pushes off of it and keeps going.

The lightning reaches for him, tantalizing, hypnotic. Determined, he fights to reach it.

“Just hold on. Hold on!”

The first of them snaps back, connects with vicious precision with his thigh. He cries out, nearly crumples, and trips right into another. It sends a jolt through his side, snaking rapidly in and out of bones he didn’t even register having.

What will you do once you reach him? His mind hisses, doubtful, pessimistic. What will you do when, bloodied and broken, you fall beside him? Will you touch his shoulder? Draw him into your arms?

What good will comfort do?

He reaches for an answer. He has none. Only his mission and his determination to accomplish it.

Time grits his teeth and he presses on.

Sky screams his name again. Lightning strikes again. It is all around him now, a hurricane whose eye he is swimming towards. A hurricane that is tearing him apart.

They devour like ravenous wolfos. Streaking through muscle and sinew, razing them like fields of sun-warmed wheat; splintering bones, boiling blood. He is breathing the life-giving liquid, tasting it, smelling it. It pours from his mouth and eyes and nose, peppers the ground like a morbid artwork. It mixes with the pungent wetness of his tears and tears, melds with sickly yellow bile he cannot keep down.

“Sky…” He tries to call. He is close to him now, so close. If he just extends his arm…

His next inhale is hardly enough to be called one. At some point walking became impossible. He can’t recall when. But now he pulls himself along like a newborn babe.

Even that is too much for his body.

It smells like death. It smells like burning bodies.

He will not give up, though, not now. Sky needs him.

A trembling hand goes up, goes out, seeking its destination. An exhausted body exerts the last of its strength to lunge.

Time won’t allow himself to scream. But as he brings Sky into his arms, he can’t keep back a cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I so, so sorry,” sobs the shattered boy who has collapsed into him. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it!”

It hurts. Darkness is beginning to join the endless light.

The world is blinding and it burns. Oh, it burns. Worse than the magma of Death Mountain, worse than the clawing grasp of a deadhand, the sting of a skulltula.

It doesn’t matter.

“You can,” he croaks and pulls Sky closer. “I believe that you can.”

Time has not thought of himself as naive in a very, very long time. But for a split second, drenched in guilt, he wonders if, perhaps, he is being so now.

He shoves the thought away, drowns it beneath the battle of staying awake and staying alive.

Sky lets loose a cry like a warrior who has lost a great battle. A sound that is dazzling in its ferocity, terrifying in its grief.

“Please, please just leave.” He lifts his face, blood and soot and snot made stark against a backdrop of silvery white. “I’m gonna hurt you more than I already have! Leave!”

He tries to shove away, but it is a weak attempt. Time holds him closer.

“I won’t leave you.”

Talking is a struggle, breathing is a struggle. How long can he keep doing both?

As long as it takes.

“I am used to storms.” He smiles and that hurts as well. The expression tears at fragile flesh. “I have never run from one.

“And I refuse to do so now.”

[brunchable]

THIS, is your boyfriend, Mom? [4]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: The family went on a camping trip with Lucas' cousins. Warning: Lucas fell into a river but is unharmed.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad. ALSO, note I am still trying to fix the tag list for this.

The stars had just begun to shine as you, Bucky, Lucas, and a few of his cousins sat around the campfire, laughter filling the air as the kids toasted marshmallows and dared each other to make the strangest marshmallow combinations.

After a while, Lucas and his cousin wandered over to you, their faces lit with excitement. “Mom, can we go skip rocks by the river?” Lucas asked.

You nodded, giving them a warm but serious smile. “Alright, but don’t go too close to the water. Stay safe.”

They nodded, promising to be careful, and you watched as they bounded off toward the riverbank, their giggles mixing with the sound of the flowing water. Bucky was sitting next to you, his gaze steady on the kids as they skipped stones, trying to beat each other’s number of skips.

Everything seemed peaceful.

But after a few minutes, you overheard Lucas’s cousin daring him. “Bet you can’t skip one from way up close,” his cousin said, pointing to a spot near the edge of the water, where the bank was muddy and slippery.

Lucas hesitated, glancing back at you and Bucky, then shrugged, puffing his chest out a little. “It’s not even that deep. I’ll be fine.”

In that split second, he took a bold step closer, right to the edge, and threw his rock. But as he shifted his weight forward, the muddy bank gave way, and he slipped, his arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance—only to tumble forward into the icy water.

“Mom! Help!” Lucas screamed, panic overtaking his voice as the river’s current tried to pull him in.

His cousin tried to reach him, stretching out his arm, but the water was too strong, and Lucas was quickly losing his footing.

In that moment, Lucas looked up, his breath catching as he saw a figure racing toward him with unwavering speed and determination. Recognizing Bucky’s shape, he reached out instinctively, the word spilling out in sheer desperation.

“Dad!”

Before you could take a step, Bucky had already shot up, sprinting to the river with a look of pure terror etched across his face. Reaching the boys in seconds, he gently but firmly shoved Lucas’s cousin back toward you, his voice low and firm. “Get to your mom. Now.”

“Lucas!” you screamed, your heart pounding.

Without a second thought, Bucky stepped into the river, his boots sinking into the cold, swirling water as it tugged insistently at his legs, urging him to stay back. But he moved forward, steady and sure, his eyes fixed on Lucas as if the world held nothing else. The river pressed against him, but he barely noticed, reaching Lucas in a few strides, wrapping a solid arm under the boy’s shoulders, and lifting him up with a fierce certainty. Holding Lucas close, Bucky turned and waded back to shore, his grip firm, his gaze steady, as if he were carrying something infinitely precious.

As soon as they were safely on dry ground, Bucky knelt down, gripping Lucas’s shoulders tightly, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with anger and fear.

“What were you thinking, Lucas?” he snapped, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Didn’t your mother tell you not to go near the edge? Do you understand what could have happened if you’d fallen in deeper?”

Lucas glanced up at Bucky, then looked over at you. The sight of you standing there, tears streaming down your face, struck him like a punch to the chest. His mother, the person he always wanted to keep happy and safe, was crying because of him.

Lucas looked down, his face pale, but tried to stammer out a response. “I-I… I didn’t think it’d be that slippery…”

Bucky’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and his voice grew louder, thick with emotion. “Exactly. You didn’t think! What if the current had pulled you in? What if you’d been swept away before I got there? What if… what if you had gotten hurt or worse?” Bucky’s voice wavered, but his tone stayed stern. “This isn’t a game, boy. You could’ve been lost to that river in an instant.”

Lucas’s cousin, standing nearby, shifted nervously, his face turning pale as he realized the seriousness of the situation. Bucky’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, his tone still unrelenting.

“And you,” he said, his voice just as firm as before. “Why would you dare him to go closer? Do you understand how dangerous that was?”

Lucas’s cousin looked down, guilt spreading across his face as he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Bucky… I didn’t think anything bad would happen. I just… thought it’d be fun.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t soften as he spoke, his tone filled with disappointment. 

“Fun? What if he’d fallen in and the current was too strong? What if I hadn’t been here in time? You don’t push someone to take a risk like that, especially near the water. You’re supposed to look out for each other, not encourage recklessness.”

The weight of Bucky’s words began to settle over both boys like a heavy blanket. The “what ifs” replayed in their minds, each one sinking deeper, and they both suddenly felt small and helpless under Bucky’s fierce gaze.

Lucas’s voice shook as he whispered, “I… I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make you and Mom worry. I just wanted to see if I could do it…”

“Wanting to prove yourself doesn’t matter if you’re putting yourself in danger. Bravery doesn’t mean being reckless, Lucas. Do you understand that?” Bucky’s stern expression didn’t waver as he looked down at Lucas, still gripped by the terror of almost losing him.

Lucas’s shoulders slumped as the weight of his mistake settled over him like an unwelcome shadow. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and his voice broke in a whisper, “I’m really, really sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean for it to be this bad… I just didn’t think.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his face softening as he caught the guilt in Lucas’s tear-filled eyes. He let out a quiet, unsteady breath, the last of his anger dissolving like smoke. He pulled the boy into a fierce hug, an instinct older than words, holding him close as if, in that one embrace, he could keep the world and all its dangers at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Lucas’s voice was muffled against Bucky’s chest, his small hands gripping Bucky’s shirt like it was his only tether to safety.

Bucky’s arms tightened around him, one hand moving up to cradle the back of Lucas’s head. “I know, kid. I know you didn’t mean it.” His voice was soft but steady, filled with something deeper than mere forgiveness.

He stroked Lucas’s back in slow, reassuring circles, feeling each shaky breath. “You scared me, you know? Really scared me.” The words were simple but carried a weight only Lucas could feel, pressing gently on his small shoulders.

Then, Bucky pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, brushing a tear from Lucas’s cheek with his thumb. “Listen. You don’t need to prove anything. You’re already enough, just as you are. And I need you here with me. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Lucas nodded, a fierce, wide-eyed sincerity in his gaze. “I promise.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, warm smile, and he ruffled Lucas’s hair gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good. That’s my boy.”

There was a pause, a quiet weight to the moment. Then, Bucky gave Lucas’s shoulder a soft squeeze, his tone light but carrying an unmistakable note of resolve. 

“Now,” he murmured, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes, “go apologize to your mom and get yourself cleaned up. You’ve given her enough to worry about for one day.”

× × × ×

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the clearing as the night deepened. The kids were finally asleep in their own tent, their quiet breaths rising and falling in a rhythm of exhaustion and dreams. You stayed by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the flames dance.

Bucky came up behind you, draping a blanket over your shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, warmth spreading through you beyond the blanket.

“Thank you,” you murmured, reaching for his hand. “For what you did for Lucas today.”

Bucky shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing,” he said softly, settling down beside you. But as he looked into the fire, a quiet chuckle escaped him, his eyes crinkling with a mix of disbelief and something almost… tender.

You turned to him, curiosity in your gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still reflecting the firelight. “He called me ‘Dad,’” he said, voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, your own smile widening. “He did.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he leaned back. “Think that’s going to cost me the dad fee?”

You laughed, a warm sound that felt like it belonged to the night. Bucky grinned, clearly pleased to lighten the mood, and his hand found yours as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the fire crackling as the stars watched over.

After a moment, Bucky’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, closing the space between you with a look of pure adoration. His hand cradled your face as his lips brushed against yours, warm and lingering.

Just as you melted into the kiss, a small voice pierced the quiet.

“Oh, wow. Seriously? Now?”

You and Bucky broke apart to find Lucas standing outside his tent, hands on his hips and an exaggerated look of exasperation on his face. “Guys, it’s, like, bedtime. Some of us are trying to sleep here without… that in our minds.”

You stifled a laugh, and Bucky sighed, glancing at the sky as if asking for patience. “What do you need, kid?”

Lucas rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, I was going to the bathroom, but now I’m scarred for life. So thanks for that,” he added with a smirk, gesturing toward the trees. “I’ll be back—try to keep it PG, alright?”

With that, he turned and shuffled off, muttering loud enough for you to hear, “Can’t believe I had to see that.”

When he was out of earshot, Bucky shook his head, chuckling softly. “That kid…”

You bit back a grin, leaning into him with a sigh. “So, where were we?”

Bucky pulled you close, a smirk on his lips. “Somewhere between dad fees and permanent interruptions, I think.”

× × × × 

Back home a few days later.

It was a quiet evening, and Bucky had been waiting for the right moment, nerves humming beneath his calm exterior. Lucas was sprawled out on the living room floor, building a small LEGO fortress, completely focused. Bucky took a deep breath, gathering himself, and then sat down next to Lucas, watching him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey, bud,” Bucky said softly, ruffling Lucas’s hair.

Lucas looked up, his face lighting up. “Hey, Bucky! Want to help me with the fortress? It’s almost done.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe in a sec, kiddo. I actually wanted to talk to you about something… something important.”

“Okay… what’s up?” Lucas tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Bucky took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

“So… I’ve been thinking about your mom,” he began, his voice gentle. “She means everything to me, Lucas. You know that, right?”

Lucas nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, I know. She loves you, too.”

Bucky swallowed, his heart pounding a little harder as he reached out, resting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Well, I was wondering… how would you feel if I asked her to marry me?”

Lucas’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in surprise. He looked down, taking it in, before glancing back up at Bucky with a raised eyebrow.

“You mean… you’d be my dad?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of sass. “Like, officially? You’re not just trying to get a tax break or something, right?”

Bucky laughed, the tension easing out of him a bit. “No, not for a tax break, kid. I genuinely want to be there for you and your mom. I want us to be a family.”

Lucas stared at him for a long moment, his face scrunched up in thought. Then, with a small, knowing smirk, he said, “So… you’re asking me for permission? Wow, you must really like us.”

Bucky chuckled, ruffling Lucas’s hair again. 

“Yeah, I am. It’s important to me that you’re okay with this. You’re the most important person in her life, and if we’re gonna be a family… I want you to know that you’re part of this decision.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, like he’d just been struck by the weight of Lucas’s words. For a moment, he could only stare, his heart swelling with an unexpected, overwhelming sense of joy. He felt a lump form in his throat, and before he could say anything, he pulled Lucas into a tight hug, holding him close.

Lucas’s face softened, and after a brief pause, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck in a tight hug. 

"You don't have to ask," Lucas whispered, his sass melting to something sincere, "I already know you're my dad."

As he closed his eyes, a tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t care. “Thank you, Lucky,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

When they finally pulled back, Lucas wiped his eyes, his grin returning with a mischievous edge. “But… you still have to do it right. Like, you know, get down on one knee and everything. And maybe a big sign that says, ‘Will you marry me?’ in case you mess up your words.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going all out. Your mom deserves the best.”

Lucas nodded, looking proud. “Good. She does. And you better not make her cry… unless they’re the good kind of tears. Otherwise, I’ll have to come after you.”

Bucky chuckled. “Only happy tears, kiddo. I promise.”

Lucas gave him a firm nod, his eyes sparkling. “Good then it’s settled. Now, are you going to help me finish this fortress, or are you too busy planning your big proposal?”

Bucky grinned, feeling the last of his nerves slip away as he settled beside Lucas, picking up a LEGO piece. 

“Alright, kiddo, let’s finish this fortress. Gotta make sure it’s strong enough to withstand all the big plans I’m about to set in motion.”

Lucas gave a mock-serious nod. “Good idea. Wouldn’t want you bailing on me halfway through.”

Bucky chuckled, nudging him gently. “Hey, I’m in this for the long haul. Fortress-building included.”

They both settled back down to work, side by side, focused on finishing the fortress together, each piece clicking into place as easily as their bond had over time.

[iloveacaibowls111]

A Love Unborn

synopsis: sequel to Wifey Material, angst with hurt comfort.

TW: Miscarriage is mentioned throughout (not described in extreme detail)

A/N: Once again like the previous post I got heavily inspired by Charlotte York as I had just watched the SATC episode where she unfortunately miscarriages. I even referenced the Tiffany baby rattle ☹️.

As you sat on the toilet, you couldn’t bear to turn over the pregnancy test on the sink. You and Nanami had been trying for a baby for about 2 months now and so far there were no apparent fruits of your labour. You were beginning to lose hope when your period was gone for 2 weeks. So, you did the sensible thing and dragged one of your good friends, Nicole, out and to buy a pregnancy test with you.

“What if I’m not?” You anxiously ask, finger repeatedly tapping the pregnancy test box.

“What if you are?” Nicole replied, taking the box away from your anxious hands. “And if you’re not, that’s okay. It’s normal. You are 26, not 56. I’m sure you have tons of eggs left waiting for sperm to fill them up.”

“Ew, don’t say that.” You laugh. “But you’re right.” 

Nicole took your arm and dragged you to the pharmacy counter. She gave you a slight hug, reiterating her support for you. 

———

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the two minutes slowly took place. Nanami was at work but he had promised you that when you got the news you would call him straight away. As the timer on your phone blared out, you took a deep breath and slowly reached out for the test. With shaking hands, you picked it up and slowly brought it in front of you. Now, your whole body was pretty much shaking and there was a part of you that didn’t want to turn over the test, didn’t want to come in terms with the fact that you were not pregnant, again. 

You can do this, you thought to yourself before you finally turned it around. Your eyes immediately saw the two lines, clear as a summer’s day. You screamed in exhilaration, jumping up and down joyfully. You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe it. A surge of joy and disbelief washed over you as you stared at the test, double-checking the two unmistakable lines that confirmed it. Tears pricked your eyes, and your hands flew to your mouth as you tried to hold back the rush of emotions. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing prepared you for the overwhelming wave of happiness now that it was real.

You grabbed your phone with trembling fingers, scrolling to Nanami’s number. You held your breath as the phone rang, heartbeat thumping in anticipation. When he picked up, his warm, familiar voice instantly made you feel at ease.

“Hey, love,” he said, his tone instantly comforting. “Everything okay? Did you take the test?”

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, already thick with emotion.

There was a pause as he held his breath, waiting. “And…?” His voice softened, a mix of hope and gentle anticipation.

You could feel your heart swelling with happiness as you spoke, “It’s positive, Nanami. I’m pregnant!” The words were full of joy, like they couldn’t wait to tumble out.

You heard him inhale sharply, a stunned silence on the other end as he absorbed the news. Then, a quiet, relieved laugh escaped him. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yes, we’re really going to be parents,” you said, tears spilling down your cheeks as you laughed, the joy bubbling up in both of you. “It actually happened.”

“I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “I knew we were hoping, but… hearing you say it out loud—this feels incredible.” He paused, and you could hear the soft emotion in his voice. “Thank you, my love, for making this dream come true with me.”

The two of you shared a moment of silent wonder on the phone, both overwhelmed by the reality of what lay ahead. You could practically feel his warmth through the line, his hand reaching out for yours in spirit, holding on as the reality of this new adventure took hold. After a moment, he spoke, his tone warm and full of love. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. We need to celebrate this together.”

———

When Nanami finally came through the door later, he was practically glowing with happiness, his face breaking into a wide smile the moment he saw you. Without a word, he crossed the room, pulling you close and holding you tightly. After a moment, he leaned back, one hand drifting to your stomach as he met your eyes, his gaze full of warmth and quiet joy.

“This is it,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Our family is beginning.”

You placed your hand over his, feeling a shared surge of excitement and tenderness. “It’s really happening, Nanami. We’re going to be parents.”

His smile softened, and he bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to go through this journey with you.”

“I have a surprise for you…” Nanami began, reaching behind his back to produce a small blue box wrapped with a white bow. His gaze softened as he held it out to you. “I bought this when we first decided on having a baby.”

Your heart fluttered as you took the box from his hands, carefully untying the bow. Inside was a beautiful Tiffany baby rattle, gleaming and elegant. It looked just like the one Charlotte had in SATC.

“Kento! It’s just like Charlotte York’s!” you exclaimed, a mix of joy and nostalgia filling your voice. “I love it.”

Nanami’s smile warmed, his eyes holding a gentle pride as he watched your reaction. Wrapped in his arms, you could not wait for the future where your little family was just a little bigger.

———

A month later, you and Nanami had already begun planning for the baby.  The spare room, which had once served as your closet overflow space, was slowly being transformed into a nursery. 

“Pastel yellow for the walls, please. We don’t know the gender yet!” You inform the painter who just gave you a caring smile. You felt almost giddy with joy from the past month. Every evening, Nanami and you would sit together, pouring over lists of essentials, talking about baby names, and picturing what life would be like as parents. 

As you left the painter to begin painting the walls, you suddenly felt a sharp pang in your stomach. You suddenly felt uneasiness in your stomach. The sharp pang brought you to a standstill, your hand instinctively moving to cradle your stomach. You took a shaky breath, trying to convince yourself it was nothing—just an ordinary cramp, something minor. But the feeling lingered, gnawing and unsettling, and your heart sank as worry took root.

Nanami was at work, so you texted him quickly, keeping it light: “Feeling a bit off, but I’m sure it’s fine.” You didn't want to alarm him, and part of you wanted to believe it was nothing to worry about. But when the pain returned, sharper this time, you found yourself reaching for your phone again, and before you knew it, you were calling him.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, not wanting to voice the fear building inside of you. “I… I think something might be wrong,” you whispered, the words tasting bitter and strange. “Can you come home?”

He promised he’d be there as soon as possible, and you could hear the worry in his voice even as he tried to stay calm for your sake. Waiting for him felt endless, each second stretching longer as the uneasiness grew into dread. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

———

When Nanami finally arrived, he rushed to your side, taking one look at you before pulling you into his arms. “Let’s go,” he said softly, guiding you to the car, his hand firmly in yours the entire time. The drive to the hospital was quiet, tense. He kept glancing over at you, giving your hand small, reassuring squeezes, his jaw tight, though he kept his worry hidden as best he could.

At the hospital, things happened too quickly and yet painfully slow—machines, concerned faces, hushed voices. They asked you questions, too many questions, and you barely had the energy to answer. All you could feel was the coldness of the room, the heaviness pressing in on you. Nanami held your hand the entire time, his presence grounding you as you waited, desperate for answers, but terrified of what they might say.

When the doctor finally spoke, her voice gentle and filled with the kind of sympathy you’d hoped you’d never have to hear, the words barely registered at first. “I’m so sorry… but unfortunately, you’ve lost the baby.” Her voice was soft, but the words struck like a hammer, shattering the fragile hope you’d clung to.

You stared at her, numb, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Beside you, Nanami’s grip tightened on your hand, his face pale as he absorbed the news, his eyes brimming with the same disbelief, the same anguish that you felt. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he simply pulled you close, holding you tightly as you both fell apart.

———

Back home, the apartment felt different—empty, echoing with a silence that seemed to mock the joy and laughter that had filled it just days before. The room that had started becoming a nursery now felt haunting, a reminder of the life you’d imagined, a future that had vanished before it had even truly begun. You stood in the doorway, staring at the freshly painted yellow walls, feeling like a stranger in a place that had once held so much hope.

“Well, I guess there was no need to pay the painter to do the walls that colour. ” You said, your voice strained. 

Nanami wrapped his arms around you from behind, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered, “I’m so sorry… I wish I could take this pain away from you.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I wanted this so much,” you choked out, your voice cracking. “I wanted to give us a family. I wanted—” Your words faltered, lost in the ache that seemed to consume every part of you.

He turned you around to face him, his own eyes red-rimmed, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice filled with a fierce, quiet determination. 

But you couldn’t bear to look at him. “But it is,” you choked out, pulling back, the weight of guilt pressing down on you. “I couldn’t do the one thing I was supposed to do. I couldn’t give us a baby.” Your voice broke, and the words spilled out, raw and painful. You turned away from his reach, feeling a need to retreat, to let the numbness consume you. “I’m… I’m going to bed,” you murmured, barely recognising your own voice.

“Y/N…” Nanami called out, walking towards you.

“Please.” You cried out, “I need to be alone right now.”

———

The next few days were a blur. People came by, offering condolences, leaving flowers, cards, and soft words meant to soothe. But none of it reached you. Nothing could fill the empty hole in your heart. You felt as if you’d never be whole again, as if nothing could bring colour back into your world.

“She hasn’t left the bedroom in three days,” Nanami said quietly in the kitchen, his voice heavy with worry. His gaze lingered on the closed door of your bedroom. “There’s nothing I can say or do to get her out.”

Gojo, Geto, Shoko, and Utahime exchanged worried glances from where they sat in the living room, concern etched deeply on their faces. After a moment, Utahime took a breath and nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “Let us try,” she said, standing up and urging Shoko to follow her.

They approached your bedroom door, knocking softly before opening it just a crack. Inside, they found you lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly into the dim shadows. You hadn’t touched your phone, hadn’t moved much at all. Even the warmth of your blankets felt oppressive, weighing you down like a heavy fog.

“Can we come in?” Utahime asked gently, her voice a soft, steady presence.

You didn’t respond, and the silence stretched on, but they took it as permission, quietly entering and sitting down on either side of the bed. Shoko rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, while Utahime sat beside you, a silent, patient presence.

“Everyone’s really worried about you,” Shoko murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You swallowed, throat tight, their words stirring something deep within you—a tangled knot of grief and shame. “I just… I don’t know how to get past this,” you admitted, your voice hoarse.

Utahime’s expression softened as she reached over, taking your hand in hers. “No one’s expecting you to be ‘over it,’” she said gently. “But shutting us out, pushing everyone away… it’s only going to make it harder.”

The weight of her words pressed on you, but you shook your head slowly, retreating further into yourself. “I’m sorry… I just can’t.”

Seeing your hesitation, Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance. They gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, a reminder of their presence, and eventually retreated, leaving you alone in the quiet.

Later, Gojo and Geto took their turn, determined to draw you out of the darkness that had swallowed you. They knocked lightly and entered, each trying to bring a sense of comfort and normalcy with them. Gojo made a few jokes, his tone soft but hopeful, while Geto spoke quietly, sharing small memories and moments that they thought might bring you some solace.

But no matter what they tried, you remained closed off, your eyes fixed on the floor, barely responding. Nothing they said seemed to reach you, as if you were wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of sorrow.

Finally, Gojo sighed, his usual confidence softened by helplessness. “We’re here whenever you’re ready,” he said gently, his eyes searching your face. “Just… don’t shut us out forever, alright?”

You didn’t respond, but his words echoed in the silence as they quietly left, the room growing colder and quieter in their absence.

———

A few days later, Nanami sat across from you in the quiet of the living room, his formal suit neatly pressed, though his face was creased with hesitation. He had been invited to a gala event for his company, but he seemed reluctant to leave, his gaze drifting back to you, worry etched in his eyes.

“I don’t have to go,” he said softly, his hand resting on yours. “I can stay here with you.”

“No, please go.” You smile faintly, touching his hand. 

He stared at you for a while, trying to make out what you were thinking. “Fine. But text me throughout the night, so I know you’re okay.” He stood up trying to find his tie. 

You managed a faint nod, only half hearing him. Your eyes had caught on something across the room—the Tiffany baby rattle, resting on a shelf. The very one Nanami had surprised you with all those weeks ago. It was a quiet symbol of a future you’d both dreamed of, a future that felt so close, once.

Your chest tightened as you stared at the toy, a flood of emotions rushing in—grief, yes, but something else as well. A part of you ached to hold onto the sorrow, to stay hidden away from the world. But looking at the tiny rattle, you felt an unexpected warmth stir within you. The memory of that hope, that dream, wasn’t gone. It wasn’t erased.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your grief soften, just enough for you to breathe without it pressing down on you. And as you exhaled, something inside you whispered that maybe it was time to step forward, even if it felt impossible. You weren’t ready to let go completely, but you could try to live with the memory, rather than solely in the grief of it.

As you peered over at Nanami who had changed into his white shirt and was standing opposite a mirror, tying his tie. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of love and affection. He was your husband, for better or for worse. 

“I think…” you began, surprising even yourself with the words. You looked up at Nanami, who was watching you with a mix of worry and gentle encouragement. “I think I want to go with you.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small, hopeful smile spread across his face. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, a tiny, tentative smile pulling at your lips. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I… I think I need to try.”

Nanami’s relief was palpable as he took your hand, squeezing it warmly. Without another word, he guided you to your room, gently setting out a gown you’d worn before—a piece that made you feel elegant, strong. You took your time, steadying yourself as you got ready, every small step a quiet victory.

By the time you emerged, Nanami’s smile had widened, his pride evident as he took in the sight of you. He offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a newfound strength, a fragile but determined spark within you.

As you left together, you felt, for the first time, a sliver of hope breaking through the clouds.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIV

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

⚠Trigger warning: YET MORE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

14. a universal conduit

You’re not much for praying, but if ever God should be interested in you stupid little trials on Earth now seems like the time. As you tear through the streets of L.A. holding on for dear undeath on the back of Wick’s motorcycle, you send up a request to the big guy in the clouds:  

Please, don’t let us be too late. 

You just had to make a little stop at the Four Seasons to collect some blood from the Antichrist; a criminal defense lawyer named Kevin Lomax, unwittingly on retainer as don Juan’s little failsafe. 

Truth be told, you’d expected more of a fight from one of Satan’s offspring–but then he was the other Son of Satan, an earthbound half-breed who possibly didn’t even know who he truly was. 

More’s the better, and you keep the double Ziploc-bagged portion of his profane plasma in the inside pocket of your jacket, close to your heart. 

According to don Juan…it just might be the key to saving the world. 

He’d told you other things too. 

Such as, this ritual was to take place at the old mental hospital, where supposedly two ley lines meet and the veil is fortuitously thin for such things, forming a sort of gate where it’s easier for the constituents of Hell to pass through. 

 “What sort of ritual?” you’d demanded, wanting to know what you were walking into. 

Somehow, Juan managed to shrug with what remained of his trunk of a body. “Oh, the usual chanting and sacrifice I suppose. But that wasn’t my part of the deal.” 

“What was your part of the deal?” 

“Keeping Constantine out of it all. He was the only real threat left,” Juan grumbled, then glared at you. “You didn’t prove quite the distraction we’d hoped, you useless wench.” 

You realized that he didn’t mean kidnapping you tonight, but earlier, when your whole ordeal as a creature of the night began. He’d ordered for this to happen to you. He’d been watching you all along. The weight of this truth dawned on you, and it hurt. Jesus, how it hurt, but rather than cry about it you’d bared your fangs at him, picking up his sword from the ground. It was nearly as long as you are tall, and Juan’s eyes went wide. 

“What do you think you're doing with that?”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it, when you’re treated like your life is worth nothing?”

He bared his own fangs at you, jumping to the correct conclusion in the span of a second. 

“We had a deal!”

“You had a deal with him,” you’d said, nodding at Wick, who stood by with his arms crossed and a stony expression. “Not me.” 

“¡Espera! No, wait! You can’t–” 

You’re not exactly proud of how quick you were, to cut off his head–but in the heat of the moment, the bite of the blade through flesh and bone–God it felt good. 

Bloody, violated, but avenged, you stood over his decapitated corpse, shaking like a leaf but the sword still gripped hard in your hand. Lifeless eyes stared up at you, his mouth gaping as though he would still try to bargain with you from beyond the true grave. You thought of the way he touched you, the way he laughed at your pain–and you kicked his head as hard as you could like a soccer ball with a scream, bombing it into the dark depths of the cave. 

The ringing in your ears returned; Wick spoke gently to you again, taking the sword from your hand. You weren’t exactly numb, but the world seemed to have narrowed to a tunnel, where there was only you, and Wick, and his strong hands upon you leading you away. 

You never found Chas in the cave, and you hope he is with John, and not dead in an alley somewhere. You had to hand it to them, for baiting you just with a hat…but it seems safe to say the joke was on don Juan in the end. 

♰♰♰

“You can stay here,” says Wick as you pull up to the hospital, cupping your cheek in his hand. It seems eerily abandoned, for a medical facility, the windows all dark. “You have done enough, milaya. Let me finish this fight for you.” 

But you shake your head, unwilling to sit out from the fray. You can feel that John is in there, and he is afraid, although he is controlling it well enough to function. You sense the fighting hasn’t started quite yet. So brave, your demon hunter. He deserves better, than dying in this place a second time. 

“No. I’m going with you.” 

You like him even more, for not arguing with you. He simply nods, and he is ready to get down to business. “I hate demons,” he grumbles, rifling through his saddlebags for vials and a pair of brass cross-emblazoned knuckles. “They are too complicated.” 

“Are they really harder to kill than vampires?” you ask, watching him with a fascination you’re not sure is healthy. 

“Yes and no. Their powers…vary. You must be smart on your feet to find their weakness, before they kill you. It is impressive…your Constantine has lived so long.”

You are so surprised to hear him compliment John that he could have pushed you over with a feather. He looks up at you with a rueful smile you do not understand. “Let’s hope his luck holds, eh? Come on.” 

Armed to the teeth with Juan’s broadsword, knives, guns, holy water, and what you think may have been a grenade slipped into his pocket, you follow your dhampir beau into the dark maw of the place some people would swear is already Hell on Earth.

♰♰♰

The moment you set foot inside the hospital you sense the demonic presence, like a seething nest of poisonous snakes in the heart of the building. Wick feels it too, and you follow the winding hallways towards the therapeutic recreation area of the facility; ie, the pool. 

“Water is a vehicle; it lubricates the transition between worlds,” Wick explains hushedly, when you speculate as to why. 

You are scared, but you shove it down, and follow a step behind at Wick’s side. Worry for Constantine knots in your gut; maybe it’s stupid, but you just want to see him again. You don’t allow yourself to think one last time–even if in the very back of your brain, you feel the impending doom all too well. 

“...are all in violation of the balance,” you hear a familiar voice say, and your heart soars. “Leave now, or you will be deported.” 

You arrive in time to find John standing on a chair with a crowd of demons looking upon him curiously, that golden shotgun at his side. He should look ridiculous like that, but somehow, he is so tall and resolute that he cuts nothing less than a striking figure. 

“Go to Hell,” he tells the room, holding his lighter up to a sprinkler head–then he seems to sense you behind him–he whirls with terror in his eyes. “No!” he shouts desperately, throwing out his hand as though he could physically push you from across the room. 

Wick seems to understand something you do not, for just as the sprinkler heads begin to spew water he grabs you around the waist and runs for the hall. 

A few drops splash your hands and your face–and you scream. 

It feels like battery acid, something horribly caustic that could eat the flesh from your bones. The pain is excruciating, and you can hardly think as Wick bundles you along, not stopping until you find a dry place in the building, far away from the sprinklers. 

“What the fuck!” you hiss, looking at the sizzling droplets that landed on your hands. 

“Holy water,” Wick answers, licking your skin. 

Somehow, that works, and you sit back against the painted cinder block wall so hard your head cracks. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s diabolical.”

Wick pays you a commiserating half smile. “I fear you are the one who is diabolical, my love.” 

You realize a beat later he is playing word games with you, and you hiss. “What about John? There were fifty demons in that room!” 

Wick nods, and you cannot fathom how this man, who you’d witnessed literally tearing vampires apart with his bare hands, can give such effective puppy eyes. It’s really not fair. “Stay here, milaya.” 

You grip Wick’s hands in yours, knowing it contradicts everything this man wants in the world, but pleading with him anyway, “Please look after him?” 

With a growl the dhampir nods, electric blue flashing in his midnight dark irises. He makes to stand, but you aren’t done with him yet, pulling him back to you. You can tell he’s annoyed as he looks to you, and even with the looming doom and vestiges of the sting of holy water upon your skin, you can’t help but smile a little. “Promise you’ll come back to me?” 

Immediately he softens, pressing his mouth to yours in a hard kiss that curls your toes and claims your heart all over again. He pulls away while you are too starstruck to function, disentangling himself from your hands curled in his jacket. 

“Be seeing you, vampling. Ya obeshchayu.” You don’t know how you know that means, ‘I promise’.

And then he is gone, charging back down the hall towards the fray. You watch your warrior go with an ache in your chest; it moves you, just watching the way he moves with such deadly purpose. You find you are not half as worried about him, as you are Constantine. 

Feeling utterly useless, you pace in the hall, hating being left to wait while the–you have to admit it–two men you care about are battling the unclean horde. You know you cannot go near that holy sprinkler water, and you pause to study a map of the hospital on the wall. It is black and white and grainy, state of the art printing from 1968. But it looks like you can access the pool area from another corridor on the other side, and you wonder if that section of the hospital received the same blessed deluge. 

You know that John Wick asked you to stay put–for his sake, as much as yours. But the stakes are too high, and you just can’t stand by. It’s probably a bad idea, but you make your way down the hall. 

♰♰♰

As you burst through the pool room doors via the men’s locker rooms you hear the cacophony of the battle taking place in the other room. There is also something thrashing around in the pool, the water churning like a feeding frenzy of sharks. Juan had made it sound like the pool itself was the gate, and fear spikes through you from head to toe. 

Is it Him? 

A figure emerges for a mere second, gasping for breath–you realize it’s Angela struggling with something trying to drown her, and you jump in without another thought. The thing is strong, as strong as you, and you grapple with it under the water, trying to get its hands off the detective so she can have a chance to breathe. It’s impossible to get a foothold in the water against this thrashing thing. In a desperate ditch attempt to stop it, you grab its head and wrench as hard as you can, breaking its neck, twisting it around all the way backwards.

By some luck or finally some divine interference, it goes still. 

You waste no time in picking Angela up, hoisting her out of the pool. She is so tiny, for such a fierce thing. She’s gone still, and you plead or pray again through bloody tears, “Please don’t be dead.” 

Perhaps you are technically dead, but you still attempt to breathe life back into her, blowing air into her mouth and you thank all the deities when she violently coughs up water and gasps for breath, clutching your arms for dear life. You turn her onto her side and pat her back, trying to help her expel the water from her lungs. 

“Thank fuck,” you hiss under your breath, holding her. She looks up at you, her eyes widening when she sees your fangs and glowing orange eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you tell her, trying to make yourself look more human and failing spectacularly in the heightened stress of the moment. “I’m a friend of John’s.”

She relaxes back against the concrete, nodding, maybe needing to believe you. 

You laugh a little out of pure disbelief. There are still flashes of blue lightning and gunfire in the other room, Wick and Constantine working together. Who knew? But it sounds like the fight is winding down.  

Is this it? Did you do it? 

Is it going to be ok??

You are able to enjoy the lightness of this sliver of hope for a mere second, before suddenly you sense that you are not alone in the room. Something invisible picks you up roughly, and throws you back into the pool.

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

*full credit to @discoscoob for the idea to bring Kevin Lomax into this!! 😄 *a belated fyi, the reason I call Don John ---> don Juan is because "don" is a prefix and honorific signifying nobility, like Mr. or Sir, not actually part of his name. In Spanish, it's not capitalized. He's from Aragón, which is now a state but once was a kingdom unto itself in the Iberian peninsula, before Spain became, well...Spain as we know it, unified. Sort of.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 28

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,995ish

Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of Alcatraz Island.

Warnings: Possible character death. Grief.

Notes: I know I said that I'm taking a break. I am. I'm focusing on taking care of myself. But I also got to take care of you all. Hopefully, this provides a slight distraction for any pain any of you may be feeling. (Also, I know the gif happened in the last chapter, but it can still work here...)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

The debris and water around the area quickly fell as Jean collapsed, dead. Logan spun around, looking for you. He couldn’t see you on top of any of the debris, making his heart sink.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he began using his senses to find you. “Y/N!” He caught a whiff of your blood and immediately began throwing debris. As soon as he could reach you, he pulled you into his lap. “Y/N? Sweetheart?” His heart dropped at the realization of how cold you were. “No.” 

He frantically looked for any sign that your body had begun to heal itself, but there was none. His fingers shot up to the pulse point at your neck, waiting with bated breath for something—anything to tell him that you were alive. He came up with nothing. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Tears began pouring out of Logan’s eyes. “Somebody help me!”

“Logan!” Hank shouted, running towards Logan. “Logan, what—“ The blue, hairy mutant came stumbling to a stop. His eyes widened as he took in the scene of you limply laying in Logan’s arms with Jean dead a few feet away.

“Why is she not healing?!” Logan began panicking. What had happened that caused you to not be able to heal?

Hank broke out of his trance and rushed over to kneel on the other side of you. He placed two fingers under your neck and silently prayed for a pulse. His heart sank further with each passing second.

“Logan—“

“Do something, Hank! I need you to do something! Anything! I can’t lose her again!”

“I can find us a jet, perhaps get her back to the mansion. But, Logan, there’s no promises that she’ll… that she’ll wake.”

Logan shook his head, pulling you closer into his chest. “She’s not dead! She can heal!”

“She’s not healing, Logan.”

“No! You need to do something! You need to try! Or I swear to God that I will kill you.”

Hank gave a solemn nod. “I will go see if there’s a jet we can borrow.” Hank rushed off, worrying about how Logan would react if you didn’t wake up.

Logan’s eyes fell back on you. He began rocking back and forth. “I need you to wake up, baby,” he whispered, using everything in him to beg. “This isn’t funny. I know that I’ve made a shit ton of mistakes, but I can’t fix them if you’re not here… Wake up, sweetheart. Please.”

~~~

Hank was thankful to quickly find a jet that they could use. The X-Men piled up in it, steering clear of Logan and you. Hank brought Jean’s body on board, covering it with something so no one had to look. It was completely quiet the whole way back to the mansion.

“Logan,” Hank called once they had landed. “I need you to give her to me.” The Wolverine simply growled, holding on to you tighter. Hank sighed. “I can’t do anything with you holding her.”

“Work around me,” Logan snapped.

“I can’t do that.”

“Try.”

“Logan,” Ororo walked up, trying her hand with him. “We know that you love Y/N; we do too. But you have to let her go in order to help her.”

Logan shook his head. “What if I let her go. and she’s truly gone?”

“We don't know that until we let Hank try.”

After a brief second, Logan nodded, loosening his grip on you. Hank quickly took you and carried you off to the lab. Logan felt empty without you, sliding to the floor and breaking down. Ororo was quick to kneel beside him, trying to comfort him.

“I can’t—She can’t be—I don’t think I’ll—“ Logan’s mind was spiraling so fast that he couldn’t finish a single thought. “I should’ve stayed with her. I should have protected her… Ororo…” She sucked in a breath as Logan used her real name for the first time. “What if I’ve lost her?”

Though Ororo knew that Logan didn’t like physical affection from anyone besides you and sometimes Rogue, but she couldn’t help herself. She flung herself at Logan, holding him close. His head fell against her shoulder as heart-wrenching sobs began to wrack his body. Ororo rubbed Logan’s back as she let him cry. She knew it was pointless trying to say anything of comfort. She had seen you for herself and was utterly heartbroken at the thought of losing you after the loss of Scott, Charles, and Jean. But she didn’t love you in the way Logan did, for as long as Logan had. So Ororo would do what she could, which was to hold Logan as he let out his emotions while she said a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

~~~

Hank had to keep his emotions in check as he worked on you. The first thing he had to do was check to see if you had been injected with the cure without anyone’s knowledge. It was the only thing that he could think of for the reason why you weren’t healing, why you weren’t breathing. As Hank took a vial of your blood, he quickly realized that your blood was bubbling like it was boiling. He quickly began to run the test for the cure as he took another few vials, noticing the same thing: your blood was boiling.

Hank locked down the lab, not wanting anyone to enter if something was terribly wrong. He knew that Logan would fight it and could get in with his adamantium claws, but he had to take that chance. There was something going on with you. His only hypothesis was that Jean’s own powers had down something when she was controlling you. But what? 

Checking the monitoring for your stats, Hank noticed that your temperature began rising again, though you still had no heartbeat. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He muttered to himself.

It didn’t take long before Hank could confirm that you hadn’t been injected with the cure. He carefully monitored you, making note of your slowly rising temperature.

“Hank!” Logan yelled, pounding on the large lab doors. “Let me in!”

“Not a good idea, Logan!” Hank responded, not taking his eyes off the monitors as your temperature rose faster.

“I need to be with her!” The monitors began frantically beeping as your temperature rose to dangerous levels. Logan could hear them. “What’s going on?!”

“Stay out there!” Hank backed away as smoke began to lift from your body.

Logan sniffed, smelling the familiar scent of your smoke. He unsheathed his claws and before Hank or Ororo could stop him, cut a large hole in the lab doors. He rushed in, with Ororo right behind him, only to see your body go up in flames.

“NO!” He hurried forward only to be pushed back as your flames suddenly grew. “Y/N!”

“Storm!” Hank shouted. “Can you put her out?”

Storm shook her head. “I don’t know if I should.”

“Someone do something!” Logan yelled.

Abruptly, the flames that had engulfed you disappeared, leaving behind a heap of ashes where your body once was. Logan reached out, hands trembling over your ashes, before collapsing to the ground.

“No,” he breathed out. “No…”

Hank looked down, shoulders slumped as Ororo covered her mouth in shock. The two watched as Logan let a few tears trickle down his cheeks before his jaw clenched and his eyes closed. His hand found the dog tags tucked underneath his leather suit and tore them from around his neck. Logan’s eyes snapped open, with a cold, determined look in them. He stood up and tossed the dog tags onto the pile of ashes. Spinning around, Logan marched out of the room.

“Logan!” Ororo called after him, Hank following. “Where are you going?”

“This is not my home,” he sneered. “Not without Y/N.”

“That’s not true,” she shook her head, trying to get in front of the man. When she did, he simply stepped around her. “This can be your home. We care about you.”

“There’s nothing for me here anymore.”

“Logan, please… we all have lost enough. We need each other.”

“I do better alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Hank responded. “Don’t go, Logan.”

Logan paused for a brief moment, thinking about you. He was sure you wouldn't want him to be alone. But you weren’t here to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled before heading upstairs.

Ororo and Hank didn’t bother going after him, knowing that it was hard to change Logan’s mind. And that Logan needed time to mourn your death.

~~~

A week passed since the Battle of Alcatraz Island. Jean had been buried with both her and Scott given memorials next to Charles’. No one was ready to give you one yet. No one had set foot in the lab since you had turned to ash.

Rogue, now going by Marie, returned having taken the cure. She and Bobby finally got to touch, but her biggest concern was Logan.

Though no one had officially followed Logan, they had heard that he was at a nearby bar, drinking and fighting his way through his grief. Ororo and Hank made sure to keep tabs on Logan by bribing bar regulars and did their best to keep Marie from going to Logan. He wasn’t okay, and no one wanted her to see him like that.

“The President wants me to be the new ambassador to the United Nations,” Hank told Ororo one night. They were sitting in the Professor’s office, often finding themselves there at night when they couldn’t sleep. “He wants me in DC tomorrow to announce it.”

“You should go,” Ororo encouraged. “You’ve helped out so much. You need to get back to your own life.”

Hank nodded. “I should clean up the lab before I go.”

“We should put the ashes in an urn. Logan may want them one day.”

“Okay… I just wish I could understand what happened to her. Why did her healing abilities stop working? How did she turn to ash?”

“I do, too. For Logan’s sake.”

“Keep me updated on him, will you?”

“Of course.”

Hank wished Ororo goodnight and headed downstairs to find something to clean your ashes into. He immediately froze at the door when he arrived. The ash pile had grown, with a similar shape to yours. Slowly, he moved closer. All of a sudden, you gasped, shooting up. The ashes fell off of you and onto the floor, revealing your naked body.

“Oh, my— Y/N!” Hank exclaimed. 

He grabbed the lab coat from a nearby chair and rushed to your side. He draped it over your shoulders as he began to take in your form. There were no scars on your skin. It was like brand new.

“What—“ you cut yourself off with a cough. “What happened?” You glanced around the room. “Where’s Logan?”

“What do you last remember?” Hank asked.

“Uh… we were at Alcatraz Island. I was injured, I think… Jean got a hold of me, and then nothing.”

“Well, you died.”

“What?”

“You died a week ago.”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s not possible.”

“I know, but somehow you died, and then when we got you back here, your body went up in flames. You turned to ash.”

“That’s… insane.” You looked around again, finally noticing the dog tags in your lap. You carefully picked them up. “These are mine and Logan’s. Where is he?”

Hank sighed. “He left after you turned to ash.”

Your heart dropped. “He left?”

“Yes, but we’ve been informed that he’s at a nearby bar, drinking away and cage fighting.”

“I have to go get him.” You scrambled off the table, the lab coat slipping off you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You may want to put some clothes on.”

You looked down to find yourself naked. You picked up the lab coat and wrapped it around yourself. “Right. Thanks.”

“Be careful. Logan’s not okay.”

“That’s why I can’t waste another second.”

next chapter >

[xoxoavenger]

I Knew You'd Come Back to Me

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

summary: And I knew you'd come back to me/You'd come back to me/And you'd come back to me/And you'd come back/And when I felt like I was an old cardigan/Under someone's bed/You put me on and said I was your favorite

word count: 562

warnings: I just realized there's a new season of obx and I haven't seen it at all at all so (not that this was ever cannon accurate but)

cardigan masterlist main masterlist

"Y/N?" Pope asks, sitting up. His heart is racing, knowing JJ is out there. Y/N doesn't look at him, acts like he isn't there, just stares at the door for a couple seconds before opening it back up and launching herself out.

"Oh!" JJ grunts, catching her as he stumbles backward. He lands softly on his back, arms wrapped around her. "I'm sorry," He says into her hair, holding her close.

"I knew you'd come back." She whispers, tears streaming down her face. She buries her face into his neck, and he holds her even closer. They're on the ground still, neither of them making any move to get up.

"I heard you say you wanted to get married." JJ confesses, causing her to finally move back and look him in the eye. "When we were babysitting the Kamps. I heard you before you fell asleep."

"Okay," She says softly, tears still falling. She thinks she knows where this is going, and it makes her want to throw up. She gets up, both of them now sitting on the porch.

"That's why I left." He confesses, and she looks away.

"You could have talked to me." She tells him, moving to stand. He does as well, grabbing her hands.

"I should have, I know." He squeezes one hand and lets it go, and then moves to push her hair out of her face. "It's just, you've seen my home life. I don't have a good example of what marriage is supposed to be. I never have. So when you said that, I didn't know what to do." He looks away as tears start to fall down his own face, and he wipes them quickly.

"If you would have talked to me about it," She says, and he just shakes his head.

"I didn't hook up with that bitch." JJ says, which makes her laugh a little bit.

"I know," Y/N, looks at the ground, letting the tears fall from her face. "I still punched her for it, got arrested." She whispered, and then JJ laughed. They both were quiet for a minute, looking at each other with watery eyes.

"I won't leave again." He tells her, and she can't help but frown. "I won't promise that I'll propose tomorrow, but I won't run off like that." She just nods, because that's really all she needed.

"I love you." She whispers, and he cups her face with one hand, their other hands still holding each other.

"I love you too." He whispers against her lips, and then they're pressing them together.

Their friends had waited until then to run out the door, knocking JJ and Y/N down again. Everyone was talking at the same time over each other in a dogpile, and Y/N was in the middle, laughing for the first time in months.

"When you have kids, can I be the godparent?" Sarah asked over everyone, which sent everyone in a frenzy once more.

"Over my dead body!" Kiara screams, and Y/N laughs again.

"We should have some sort of competition for it!" John B suggests, and JJ just rolls his eyes.

"We are not having kids for a long time, so y'all can come down about it." He tells them as he helps Y/N up. "Now, if you'll excuse us," He winks at Y/N, and Sarah screams.

"No! I didn't miss this!" 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover

[fic-dumpster]

Hate is such a strong word

Pairing: Bully!Ran Haitani x F!Reader

Word count: 860

Warnings: MDNI, hate fuck sort of, very confused and obsessed Ran, degradation, corruption kink, bullying, mean Ran, noncon, tongue kissing, PiV, cunnilingus, fingering, words such as cock/pussy/cunt/whore/bitch/slut, headcanon-ish format. Idk… let me know if I missed anything!

Bully!Ran who hates your guts. He sees you walking around all pristine and clean. Not a single hair was out of place. He hates that. Not even makeup he could imagine running down your face when he eventually makes you cry.

Bully!Ran who can’t stand your voice when you speak in class. He hates your laughter when you’re talking with your friends at lunch and above all, he despises your humming when you’re standing in front of your locker. His locker is in the same row and has to stand your shitty voice every damn time.

Bully!Ran who can’t even stand being near you so he makes Rindou throw your books to the floor, send your phone flying, and pull your well-kept hair. Ran sickly enjoys watching you on your knees after his brother trips you.

Bully!Ran who got tired of you. Tired of you not noticing all the things you made him feel.

Bully!Ran who one morning snatched you up from your last class, cornering you in the gym closet. Oh, how he relished in your begging. You were gonna lose your perfect attendance? He couldn’t care less. You were gonna miss an important class? Fuck that.

Bully!Ran who clamped your face in one hand, wishing that you at least wore some eyeliner or lipgloss so he could smear it all over your pretty face he so much despised. He has to make do with what he has, right? Your tears and his cum would decorate your skin so well.

Bully!Ran who has you squirming like the worm you are in his hold. His other hand quickly wrenched away your white shirt, buttons flying everywhere and a constricted scream interrupted your begging.

Bully!Ran who despite your clearly terrified eyes and shaking hands, didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. On the contrary, he felt euphoric. Your trashing subsided, you couldn’t fight him, you couldn’t get away and nobody was coming to save you. Once you realized that, you became more pliant in his grasp.

Bully!Ran who squeezed your chest to his heart’s content. Pulling one mound out of your frilly white undergarments. He squeezed until you gave a pained whimper, and he wanted more of that. The frenzy he didn’t even notice he had— tenfold.

Bully!Ran who saw things clearer now. Amid the craze, he had an epiphany as his eyes focused on your face and the little inhuman sounds you were making. He didn’t hate those… no… he didn’t hate you at all. He just hated you for not doing all those things to him. Not to your friends, not your teachers and especially not any male in the vicinity. They didn’t deserve to even be in your presence. This… all this he was witnessing belongs to him.

Bully!Ran who with a frustrated growl violently crashed his mouth with yours, swallowing your gasp of surprise.

Bully!Ran who felt his whole body ignite as his tongue commanded yours to comply. Pulling your tongue out, his teeth gripped it harshly. a quiet wail from you and he was instantly bending your neck back and licking. His tongue traveled all the way down to the crease of your chest to your lips, lapping at your mouth and you had no say in whether you like it or not.

Bully!Ran who had you inconsolably crying on the cold floor as he buried his face in your cunt. Your hands desperately tried to get him away but it was all a game to him— you weren’t moving him an inch.

Bully!Ran who kept your legs wrapped around his head, resting on his wide shoulders as he called you a messy needy slut for being so wet for someone you supposedly didn’t care about. Every word from him was a slap to your swollen pussy.

Bully!Ran who pushed his fingers in your cunt, telling you how you sounded like a bitch in heat, calling you a liar and a whore for him. The squelching sound of his fingers violently moving inside you had him feeling sick. So sick that he stirred his long fingers deeper, feeling that spongy spot that had you yelling out his name for the first time as his stomach felt a sudden gut punch and bursting sensation.

Bully!Ran who cursed once he realized he came in his pants. He was fuming. And just as fast, he had you on your back with your shredded panties in your mouth.

Bully!Ran who takes your writhing body in between his arms as your abused hole warmed his cock.

“Stay— fuck… stay fucking still, damn it.”

Oh, Ran was going to burst again at any moment if your warmth kept squeezing him like that. Slow, deep thrust left you out of breath. Ran stretching out your little tight cunt around him, and just like that he kept pounding into your creamy insides.

“Such a good girl, taking what she’s given,” he grunted against your temple, “I’m gonna mess you up so good— fuck… you like that? You want me to ruin you?” His hoarse laugh reverberated through your bodies. “You’re tightening down there. ‘m taking that as a yes.”

A.N: damnnnnm… the first thing I write for tr after my drought of two years is debauchery. Ta-da? 🤗 ✨ I still feel so out of touch with my words N E WAY! enjoy K bye 💋

[free-sugar]

bunny hybrid!yandere x pissed off empress!reader

Imagine a bunny hybrid who's main role in life is to kill for the elites of his burrow. He is set to rule his burrow until it is destabilized, with he and his fellow elites tried for treason.

The poor man, being as beautiful as he was, was spared and gifted to an unprecedentedly young empress.

Everyone knew what he'd done to her, to her family.

"Do you remember me?" she asks as he is presented to her in her throne room.

"Of course," he says, smiling as ruthlessly as he did that day. Though he is bound in both chains and powerful enchantments, he looks strong. "How's your scar?"

"Bold question." You smile back, but you're sure it doesn't reach your eyes. You force yourself to not touch the healed gash on your collarbone. "You'll learn better."

I've become stronger.

But what happens if the poor bunny is not as cold as he seems?

includes; femdom, revenge, oral (fem receiving), degradation and masochism (yan receiving/being), forced marriage, dubcon, hurt little comfort

“I mustn't give in to temptation, Your Highness�� To give in to such beastly, masculine instincts…”

You tear the man down to his knees by his hair. "It's 'Your Majesty' now. You made sure of that.

“A d I don't care about any of that. You're mine, now. You're in heat, so let loose, according to my command.”

“B-But…” The man began to plead, covering his growing erection with his hands. “It's my first time doing this… I don't want to be like the other dumb bunnies that hop around the moment they're sent off… I'm the next on line…”

This killer? A prude? A VIRGIN? you think. Laughable. He was surely old enough to not speak like a shy sweetie?

“How will they know? Come here.” You shove his worried face into your crotch. “Lick and suck like a good slut.”

“Mmph—”

“This tongue is mine to use. You're just a tongue now, understand? Tonight, you're just a pussy wiper.”

The terrifying man has tears in his crystal clear eyes.

Why is he so complacent? you wonder.

He his tongue begins to search your tight pussy, lapping at his mess every few seconds. He brings both hands to your hips. He begins to run his chin, fucking his tongue into your eager cunt. You hold his head to steady yourself, stepping in his pathetic cock all the while.

“Nng… Slut… Slut!” you scream out, on the verge of crying. You bounce up and down, crushing his cock and violating his virgin mouth. He grips you tighter, tears now streaming down his murderously beautiful face. You want to hit him, but you settle for degrading him like the bitch he was. You call him a slut, whore, monster— You say that he's lower than dirt, lower than nothing.

You want to die on his lips so he could feel what you felt.

“Fuck… Fuck… Nng…!” You suffocate him with your lust, choking him with your hedonistic flood.

So rough! he thinks. This confuses him, since he lived for and with extreme roughness and callousness. How was this different? Was it because it was… sex? Tonight, it seemed, he found himself numb and dazing out.

“You like that, slut? You like that?” you pant, snatching his head away. He is silently weeping, puppy dog eyes both begging for more and begging for a break.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…”

“For what?”

“A-About your family… I'm truly sorry…”

You fill with pure, unbridled rage. Why would apologize now, of all times?!

What a buzz killer.

“Get me a belt,” you say, stepping away, “one of yours.”

[seungsuki]

so there's this professor... - 01 fractured equations masterlist

“do you even know yourself, or are you just another child moulded by the world around us?”

your small eyes search for the voice, a distant echo floating in the cold air. you shuffle closer, yearning for the warmth of the fading memory, but the chilly air of britain’s streets sink into your bones. here, survival isn’t merely a skill; it’s a daily battle that leaves you feeling small and utterly alone like a speck of dust

“promise me you won’t fall into the mould”

you look up, your heart aching at the sight of her sad smile painted on like a fragile mask of a porcelain doll, cracking at the edges. behind it lies grief far too vast for a seven-year-old to fathom.

how could you ever comprehend the weight of her sorrow? 

your tiny hands reach out, desperate for comfort, but all you grasp is emptiness—the coldness of fingers that once cradled you close, now forever still. cold hands fall on your face as you stare in horror

no word slips from your lips, not even a fragile whisper, just a silent plea from your heart. another reminder that love can vanish, leaving only absence in your already empty void. you want to scream, to shake her from her slumber.

but instead, you sit there. hope became a cruel joke, and the warmth of her embrace is a ghost that taunts you. tears prick as you try your hardest to carve her smile into your memory. in that moment, you realise 

you’re not just searching for her; you’re searching for yourself in the ruins of her despair. 

“mother..?”

…

…

…

“hold on- let me say goodbye to my mother before we head off”

you snap back to the present, watching your best friend dash into his mother’s store. you see her happy smile as she leans down, allowing him to plant a small kiss on her cheek before he turns away. you’ve always waited for him before heading to class. it’s a cherished tradition: you walk to his house in the morning, and he walks you back after class

“flowers? my mom had extras,” alvin offers, pushing a small bouquet of neatly arranged lavender roses into your hands.

“you always give me the same kind,” you say, bringing it closer

“blame my mom for growing too many. come on! we’re going to be late!” he insists, pulling you along, not wanting to elaborate 

“i miss my mother whenever i see yours,” you mutter softly, the words slipping out before you can catch them

“i miss her too- even though i never met her. which is weird if you think about it,” alvin replies, glancing back at your sad expression

“i can’t remember her anymore”

you switch off your thoughts for a moment, letting him navigate through the bustling marketplace. you treasure these few minutes, allowing your imagination to roam. daydreaming is another beloved pastime, and alvin provides the perfect escape into your bubble of comfort.

with your bag slung over his shoulder, he takes your hand in his free hand, unwilling to lose you in the crowd.

“i heard we have a new maths professor,” alvin begins again, trying to lift the mood

“he’s supposed to be young and a genius,” he adds, looking at you for a reaction.

“maths professor? what about mrs aya?” you suddenly remember

“oh, her? thomas said she’s now in his astronomy class- lucky fella,” alvin groans

you laugh at his silliness. the only reason he liked mrs. aya was for the free snacks she gave out after class. her husband, a wealthy lord, often sent treats during her lessons, accompanied by a signature green note that wished her a great day ahead. 

“one day, i’m going to find out who her lover is so i can ask if he has a sister! i’ve never tasted such wonderful cookies,” alvin reminisces

“i guess you won’t have them anymore,” you pat his back as he sulks at the thought

and just like that, you both walk toward your university building. alvin greets everyone he sees on campus, a habit that leaves you questioning his motives

“no? i’m not friends with security, but everyone deserves a good smile!” he responds cheerily

“you’re not fully dressed without a smile.”

“did you just quote haz-”

“stop. robert and his gang.. again”

with that, alvin moves you behind him, muttering about “stupid rich boys” as they approach. you clutch the flowers closer, watching him roll his eyes dramatically. a sigh escapes his lips as he stands face-to-face with robert

“how do you always bump into us? it’s almost like you wait here,” alvin begins

“me? wait for some peasants? do you not know who i am? i am robert smith! the-”

“the second son of lord smith and the sole heir of the luxury leather manufacturers. we know. you’re a broken record at this point,” alvin interrupts, mimicking him.

“i see [last name] still comes here. have you not found a partner yet? you keep coming to ‘educate’ yourself, but what’s the point? no one would hire a low-class rat,” robert retorts, his friends snickering in the background.

“i told you to leave us alone, right? get lost” alvin insists, trying to shoo robert away, but he stands firm

“i could propose to spare your lowly life… i do need a new piece for my future collection,” robert continues to taunt

“ooh, how unfortunate! to me, [name] leroy sounds a lot better than [name] smith- which, by the way, sounds like a shoe polisher,” alvin shoots back as he walks away with you

“you don’t always have to defend me,” you mutter, glancing back at the fuming robert.

“grow a spine first stupid” alvin replies, looking at you with his usual smile.

with that, you both reach your first class. mathematics has its own muse, but you’ve never understood the supposed muse. while you’re not failing, you’re certainly not a star student either. you settle into your seats in the middle rows as alvin struggles to see the board from far

“glasses aren’t such a bad thing…” you comment as you pull out your notebook.

“true, but i don’t see why i should pay so much just to read the board,” alvin sighs, slouching back with his latest magazine.

“you’re going to pay attention to the board… with a magazine?” you question.

“shush, i don’t want to label you as a snitch,” he teases, flipping through the pages.

you let the conversation drop, not wanting to disturb his reading. your gaze drifts around the classroom, where a mix of new faces and familiar ones fills the room. it’s a new semester, and getting into the university was not easy, given the challenging entry requirements.

right on cue, your new professor walks in. his striking blonde hair catches your eye, making him stand out immediately. even his three-piece brown suit looked more expensive than your entire snack budget.

he stands before the board, chalk in hand, neatly writing his name with precision. even his handwriting exudes a sense of perfection. he appears rather young for a mathematics professor, surprising you further.

“i am william james moriarty,” he introduces himself as he turns to the students. “i’ll be teaching mathematics.”

“i hope you take this class seriously. i remember a quote by albert einstein,” william states.

“pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.”

“what is he even saying?” alvin whispers, and you shrug in response

“now, some of you might be like mr. leroy here, confused as to why i brought this up,” william continues. “think of my words as motivation.”

“he knows my name??” alvin gasps, nearly shouting in your ear

“i am well aware of everyone’s name, mr. leroy. you’re not as quiet as you presume to be,” he replies, and the class erupts into laughter. 

you can’t help but join in as alvin buries his face in his arms, magazine forgotten on the floor. the rest of the class unfolds normally. your professor teaches, and the time slips away. class had ended before you even finished your notes. 

“should we get him a little gift?” you ask as you pack your bag

“a gift?? for him?? after he embarrassed me??” alvin exclaims, his bewildered expression making you laugh

“your hair is messy again silly”, you sighed 

a silence falls between you, and you reach out to push the bangs from his forehead. he flinches, feeling your hand before swatting it away to fix his hair himself muttering about how he could do it himself 

“okay, so what are you going to get him, your majesty?” alvin rolls his eyes

“a set of new chalk?” you suggest 

“chalk? why? the school provides him with a huge box!” he reasons.

“no, no! i mean the kind used by mathematicians- hagoromo chalk! isn’t it nice? i could even knit him a small napkin to clean the board later on!” you continued 

“i don’t see you putting this much effort into my gifts…”

TAGLIST

@eliasorchard @ayaswrld @iris-arcadia

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images are from pinterest. banner video is made my me and do not use it anywhere