#and ultimately the hope is that my mind maps to my body a little more accurately

[bloomburnburial]

top surgery in less than 50 days now. getting a head start on practicing for recovery by having my body completely shut down 🙃

[drinkpisser]

HOW IT CAME TO BE, CHAPTER 7 !! ☆

once again, it's been quite a while (＞Д＜),, so once again I am apologising for that D:🫶

this chapter is maybe a little smaller and less packed than I'd hoped for it to be BUT I kinda like how it turned out :D

so do enjoy if ur giving it a read and thank u if u do !!! <3

READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE:

begin chapter 7 under the cut !!

CHAPTER 7: TELEVISION BODIES/BATTLES IN THE DARK

Lola had gotten so restless that they'd resorted to gnawing on the bars of their enclosure to fulfil their void of boredom. They don't speak much, Gerard had observed. They don't speak at all. Yet it seems as though he can completely understand what they're thinking simply by taking a glance at them. Sometimes entire sentences enter his mind without Lola even moving their lips- maybe it's just one of those things. A Lola Thing.

"Lola," Gee started, "If-"

Without warning, the door slammed open, itself in fear of the hierarchy of the ship, shoving poor Lola onto the cold, harsh floor.

"Hey!" Gerard yelled, "Watch out, you're gonna hurt 'em!".

Showing no remorse, the guard essentially drags Gee out by the hair, Lola struggles to follow along behind, tripping on their fuzzily grazed knees.

Gerard had allowed the guards to shove him around the hallways once again to familiarise himself, slowly recollecting fragments lost of his memory. As though he was unlocking the rest of a map in a video game, he'd soon come to realise that he was on the bottom deck of the mothership. If memory had served him right, a sinking intuition informs him that there are emergency "lifeboats" stocked up in a lower centre beneath the ship- emergency UFOs. If he and Lola could male it to the end of the corridor, they'd be all set for a vital escape plan.

Although hesitant, Lola turns to Gerard for closure. G, despite being shackled by the harsh eyes around him, points straight ahead.

They realise.

Lola waits for a moment, causing everyone to come to an ultimate standstill:

"I like talking with my mind. But what I like more is using it as a weapon."

Gerard, listening, stares in amazement.

Despite Lola barely moving a muscle, beams of light emerge from the swollen brains of the guards- before exploding, that is! Psychedelically tinted shades of blood splatter the walls, looking more like a child's playroom than a murder scene. Each day you learn something new in this world; for example, the giant teddy bear you watched quardrouple in size is also a fuzzy killing machine.

"Hm. Artsy." Gerard comments as he nods, folding his arms and taking a step back, smirking. This, of course, is to mask the utter horror he is once again experiencing. Act casual. It's not the only strange occurrence you've ever endured. Intuitively noticing the loot left behind from the guards, he takes a pistol and some ammo.

Unfortunately, any sort of self defense is bound to boomerang back when you're totally outnumbered- almost instantaneously, the emergency sirens screech "LOCKDOWN", and guards come rushing down both ends of the hall.

In a frenzy of adrenaline, Lola pulls G onto their back. If you thought "piggy-back ride", you'd be correct. Lola bolts it as fast as their legs can waddle them, Gerard peeking above their fluffy head and covering for them. What he had failed to realise, however, is that these guns do not shoot regular bullets- oh no, they shoot radioactive laser beams. Standard.

An enemy rapidly approaches. Gerard shoots. From the force of the ammunition, he falls over with a puny shriek. Standard.

Lola speeds back for him, dragging his shocked body across the slippery floors as he desperately shoots at the guards. Eventually, they just about make it into the centre holding the emergency UFOs. Without a moment's rest, they climb aboard the nearest mini-ship, pressing any buttons that screamed "departure" to their frantic eyes. Only, that caused a plethora of problems that could only be anticipated-

they drop.

Losing temporary control, the ship swerves and sways through the atmosphere, zipping across the galaxy into unknown territory. Gerard and Lola are slammed into every corner of the room as if they're in some crude, circular pinball machine. Owch. Just imagine the bruises from that.

Once Gerard manages to grab hold of the wheel, the UFO stabilises, allowing the duo to release a much needed sigh of relief; that is until the next problem of "how the fucking hell do we get back home" surfaces. But not yet, I'll give them a break.

Maybe.

Remember the crazed button-pressing from earlier? Well, Sat-Navs are all the rage in UFOs. To make matters even greater, they're only being taken to a completely inconspicuous planet.

"Do you know where this is taking us?" Lola communicates.

"Eh- uhh- it says we're on route to... I can't even pronounce that." Gerard struggles.

The two continue to speculate, searching around the interface of the ship. Where they will wind up could only be predicted by a psychic, it seemed. Only the future is able to show what's in store, and they just had to be buckled in tight for the long run.

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

Meanwhile, back home, it appears all that anyone yearns to do is to put every upcoming event in place ahead of time- before it whisks them away into the unknown too.

Ray paces around his room in unease, every now and then brushing his foot against the various scrunched up tinfoil hats discarded on the carpet. Tapping his bitten fingernails against his overcrowded notebook, on the verge of eruption from everything shoved in it, you'd assume he'd adopted a maximalist taste from everything crammed into a single page. However, the glum truth was that he'd gotten so worked up by Gerard's second dissapearance in a row that he had now turned into a self-entitled detective. You'd think G had kicked it with the way he changed so suddenly. He'd be his most chirpy in his dreams, where everything was okay and nothing ever happened at summer camp. Where everyone got along. No aliens, no hurt, no absence- and certainly no manslaughter.

Something Ray would often reminisce about with a melancholic, yet teary smile was the time where he and Gerard went on a hike together, in which the golden hour shined, bouncing off of the mountain like a glass prism. It was silent, comfortably so. All they needed was the presence of eachother to conquer their small journey and tick it off of their scribbled bucketlist for the season.

"Yknow," Gerard says, "I used to get butterflies when I first spoke to ya'", he looks down, smiling into his hoodie. It's true! He thought Ray was the coolest ever! (And he's right).

Ray's eyes glisten in pleasant surprise.

"Really?" he responds, taken aback.

"Mhm- and after a while I noticed I wasn't trying to shoo 'em off anymore. Like I accepted something within me, dunno what." Gee confesses.

"Brains are just wierd like that I guess," Ray giggles, thinking nothing of it.

The two are drawn to the outstanding warmth of the sun, temporary blinding them to the point where anything indoors would look greenish (you know the feeling, surely). Ray sits down at a reasonably flat area of the hill's peak, slightly hunching over into a ball as the sun gradually simmers away. Gee sits by him, occasionally looking over at his fascinated face. Shuffling sideways, he rests his disheveled head of hair on his shoulder with a slight sense of nervousness at the idea Ray wouldn't like it. But it was okay.

They just sat together.

No absence. No hurt. No madness- only for a minute or two, but it had never felt more comforting.

If only a good memory could last a lifetime.

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

Dead Weight || Gael, Rhett

TIMING: Mid-July LOCATION: Vicker’s Beach/Harborside PARTIES: Rhett (@ironcladrhett and Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: What was supposed to be sea urchin fishing turned into a salty sea dog and a chemistry professor fighting off a drowngr CONTENT WARNINGS: Body horror (it’s a drowned corpse)

He might’ve been a little… not dishonest but Gael could hold his breath for close to two minutes nowadays - he wasn’t sure when he picked it up but he figured hiking with Elias had already started to work its magic, nevermind his binges where he’d go out into the forest to blow off the pent-up energy that routinely came around every month or so. Brain defect.

Gael wasn’t really paying any of that much mind as he made his way to the spot on his map that was marked by Rhett, a man he could only mentally describe as either  “looking like an artist’s rendition of Blackbeard” or “reminiscent of a walrus with a hook for a hand”. Rhett probably looked like neither and he wasn’t disappointed, at least not that he’d say aloud. Then again, he was sure people heard ‘chemist’ and automatically put him in a lab coat with goggles on holding two beakers with colorful liquid in them like some sort of mad scientist. He never looked like that, though he could’ve styled his hair like Frankenstein if he tried hard enough. No, today he was wearing minimal gear - a gray tank top, a pair of bright blue swim trunks and carrying a small satchel with a towel, his phone and a couple other little luxuries; he hoped Rhett was receptive to him taking notes if the other man had anything else interesting to say. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he HAD spotted a man in the near distance - well, he had a beard that had black in it. And a mane of hair so Gael wasn’t disappointed. “Rhett?” He called to the stranger. “It’s Gael– er, if you aren’t Rhett, hi, I’m Gael and I think I’m lost.”

—

It was a strange thing to be equal parts relieved and disappointed that the person that came striding toward him on the beach didn’t set off any of his alarms—Gael being a nice person wouldn’t have stopped Rhett from removing his head from his body, had any of those chimes started dingin’. But they didn’t, and so he knew this would be a rather mundane afternoon, but… that was nice, sometimes. He was getting fucking old, sometimes he needed mundane. 

Raising a hand in greeting, the warden gave a sharp, boisterous laugh. “Aye, last I checked, was my name,” he answered in his unique accent, one that couldn’t really be tied to any one place, nomadic as his life had been up to this point. He wore red swim trunks that didn’t make it past his knees, a black v-neck, and sunglasses. Every inch of exposed skin from his clavicle down seemed to be covered in tattoos, all colorless and painting a confusing, nonsensical tapestry that could take a while to unravel if one was determined to do so, though there’s a good chance the warden would stick a switchblade through their eye before they finished. Mind yer business, he’d say.

“Kia Ora,” he offered a hand to shake, noting the bag the other had brought. At his own feet was a bucket for collecting the urchins, and in it, a hunting knife. For various purposes. Pulling the black elastic from his wrist, the warden gathered that wild mane of hair into a ponytail and tied it back. “Hope yer hungry—lotta fat suckers down there. If not, well, more fer me.”

— Was Gael just a little bit intimidated the closer he got to this man covered in tattoos, with fantastic hair and an implacable accent? Just a little. “Mucho gusto,” He replied with a nod, taking Rhett’s hand firmly as he glanced around at the environment for a moment - the sand, the shore, the bucket with the knife in it - presumably to cut the things open so they could enjoy the meaty insides. Gael was simultaneously curious and trepidatious and he tilted his head with the mix, setting his satchel down and almost opting to remove his shirt though he ultimately decided that it could stay on - they weren’t going that deep and this was supposed to be a fun outing with a guy who he was pleased to see DID in fact look like a pirate. Gael took a step or two into the lapping water. “I AM hungry. For knowledge and tasty sea urchins.” He tilted his head again. “I’ll follow you though - I’ve never seen one out in their natural habitat before.”

—

Rhett, for his part, did remove his shirt, because there were few things that annoyed him more than the feeling of wet clothes on his skin. He’d sooner be naked in the company of complete strangers than deal with that. 

Grabbing the knife and bucket, he followed the other man into the water with a grin on his face. “Aye? Good, good. Sure you’ll learn plenty.” He walked in about chest-high, then secured the knife between his teeth, took a big breath, and motioned for Gael to follow. 

It was a short swim to a cluster of underwater boulders that the sea urchins clung to, and with a wordless show and tell (more like show and make eyes at), Rhett taught Gael how to get the suckers off the rocks with said knife. Several trips to the surface later and their bucket was about half full. Would probably be enough, Rhett thought, and just as he was about to motion to Gael for them to surface, his eyes caught some strange movement behind him, even as shitty as they were. He gritted his teeth, air escaping between them in a bubble, his grip on the knife tightening. His gaze darted to meet Gael’s and he shoved the bucket into his arms, pointing up toward the surface. Then he was kicking to swim past him, down deeper to the sea floor, where something was… walking toward them. 

— His tattoos were fascinating. Gael had to try not to look at them, almost out of some Lovecraftian fear that they would mesmerize him and drive him to madness. Either that or he just figured Rhett was the type to, he didn’t know, fly off the handle over something completely innocuous. Call it a sixth sense but he knew how to respect people older than him, especially when they looked and acted like Rhett both online and in person. The older man didn’t do the whole ‘stand around and wait’ stuff which worked fine for the professor, who was rather eager to get started so with the newly-shirtless Rhett leading the way, Gael followed the salty sea-dog into the water, where they swam out a little ways. While the professor wasn’t a champion swimmer, by any means, he retained enough information to propel himself through the water without looking like an idiot who only knew how to dog paddle. After a show-and-not-tell from Rhett about what to do, Gael, being a quick learner, took to the activity with his usual enthusiasm, though he felt as though it didn’t need to be said this time. So the time passed in peace, just two guys diving for sea urchins in the pleasant summer weather. The bucket filling up and the professor was currently under the water, keeping his blurry gaze on the figure of Rhett when the latter suddenly motioned for him to surface. Being underwater, however, didn’t give Gael long to think about it and he just did what he was told, breaching the surface with a deep inhale though he wondered what Rhett wanted him to surface for. 

— He was already running low on oxygen and probably wouldn’t have time to deal with whatever it was wandering their way, but he wanted to get a look. Assess the situation. 

Well, the situation was shit. 

Knowing that he really lacked an edge underwater, the moment Rhett realized that they’d attracted a drowngr, he was off towards the surface. Popping up beside Gael, the hunter removed the knife from his bite and nodded at the shore. “Right, uh, sharks about. Best get goin’,” he lied, hoping that the creature wouldn’t follow them onto shore… even though he knew it probably would. 

Probably was giving it too much credit to lose interest, because the undead thing just kept coming for them, drawn to their body heat and wanting to take that for itself. As the men rose up from the waves and took their first steps back onto dry sand, a very decomposed, ugly-looking human head popped up from the water below about a hundred yards from shore. 

Not only was Rhett ill-equipped for this sort of fight, he couldn’t remember exactly what this type of undead fed on. It wasn’t always flesh and bone, he knew, and the undead often required more robust methods of killing than his typical fare. Damnit, he wished Emilio were here. He’d know. 

His van wasn’t parked too far from here, and they could probably beat the creature there if they started moving now. At least in the van, he had more weapons besides his hunting knife. While reliable, it wasn’t always the best option, and he didn’t think he wanted to get too close to this one. Looked bitey. 

Ushering Gael down the beach after grabbing the shirt he’d left on the sand, Rhett kept stealing backwards glances as they walked. Wouldn’t be long, now, before a corpse was on their tails. “Tell me, mate… how ready are ya feelin’ t’see an actual underwater monster today, eh?” There it was, stumbling out of the surf. “‘Cause we got one breathin’ down our necks.”

— Gael’s brow furrowed as he tread water, regarding the pirate when the latter surfaced. “Uh, okay.” He agreed without asking for clarification - even if he hadn’t seen any and from what Prisca told him, sharks didn’t attack people on purpose (unless they were bull or tiger sharks, the little menaces), he still trusted Rhett over his own incredibly limited experiences… and even if it WASN’T actually a shark, surely there was good reason for the older man to want them to get to shore. As they made their way to shore, wading into knee-deep water, Gael started to tousle his hair but it subconsciously turned into him shaking his body loose of excess water. It was brief, however, and soon enough he was back to wringing out his shirt and shorts. “Well, at least that was fun!” He said lightly, immediately before wondering if Rhett even did things like “have fun” but the professor had already said it and he probably would’ve followed it up had a harsh stench not been carried on the salty breeze, meeting his nose and instinctively causing him to press a wrist to it suddenly. Then Rhett mentioned something about an actual underwater monster and Gael gave him a brief look. “What, like an eel or–” His sentence was cut short as he looked over his shoulder and his brown eyes caught what seemed to be a bloated, slimy body of a male, obviously decomposed, shuffling out of the water and towards them. “NO?” He yelled, confusion and horror making itself very clear in his tone. “Rhett, what is THAT??”

— “It’s a dead guy,” Rhett responded matter-of-factly, glancing sideways at Gael. He reached for the bucket of sea urchins, not wanting the other to drop it in his panic, because apparently he’d never seen a mobile corpse before. Funny, that, since they were everywhere. Some hid better than others, though. This one was pretty obvious, all bloated and shuffling and brainless as it was, lurching out of the surf and pivoting in their direction. Its skin hung loose in some places and was stretched thin in others from the gasses that were trapped inside of it, contributing to that horrible stench on the wind.

The beach ahead of them wound around a steep cliff, and just beyond that was the access road Rhett had used to get down here.  “Come on. Van ain’t far. Got a weapon or two in there.” Not giving his afternoon companion much time to argue, the hunter struck off at steady trot, figuring Gael would probably follow closely rather than be left behind with the corpse that was tripping through the sand to get to them. 

— “It’s a dead–” Gael faltered, tearing his gaze off the foul-smelling shambler, working hard to keep himself from falling into a complete panic and quickly turning on a heel to follow behind the pirate at a brisk pace. “Okay I’m sorry but did you say that was a dead guy?” He called as he decided to keep his dark eyes on Rhett instead of look behind them at the foul-smelling, shambling figure. The hand that wasn’t tightly clenched to the strap on Gael’s messenger bag that hung over his damp frame flew up and pressed itself against his nose with fervor. “Rhett why are you so casual about a dead body that’s just… walking towards us? Do you know how utterly insane that sounds?” He asked urgently, his voice definitely carrying a tone of fear and concern to it - had he just gone searching for sea urchins with someone who just… shared in his hallucinations?

—

“Yeah. Cuz it is. Not much to not understand!” He could only laugh at the following question, glancing back at Gael. “Aye, well, the world’s an insane place, innit?” Gesturing at the thing that was tailing them, trying to hurry itself along and kicking around a lot of sand in the process, Rhett raised his brows. “I mean, what else woulda ya call that other than a dead guy?” 

Sure, it had some kind of ‘real’ name, but that was Emilio’s wheelhouse. Speaking of… as they hurried around the bend of the cliff that reached into the sky above them, Rhett tried to remember where exactly he’d left his phone in the vehicle. Cup holder? Yeah, that sounded right. 

The pair closed in on the van and Rhett threw open the door, setting the bucket of urchins in the seat and grabbing his phone. “Do me a favor, young man—find ‘Milio in my contacts n’ call him up for me. As what to do about a… fuck, what’re they called… eh, just tell ‘im it’s a dead guy what came outta the ocean, aye? He’ll have an idea how tah kill it.” Meanwhile, the warden circled to the back of the van, passing Gael the phone before opening those doors as well and reaching in to retrieve a black duffel bag. And from there, his favorite cutlass. Turning it in his hand and beaming at Gael, the warden poked his head out to check on the dead guy—closing in. He could hear the phone ringing, and just hoped that Emilio would have a clue about dispatching these. — “Yeah… I guess it must be.” Rhett didn’t seem worried about it and even though the smell wanted to make Gael gag and he didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if the thing caught up to him, whatever was happening didn’t phase the older man so the professor himself wanted to reflect that, too. The duo approached the van, which was rather stylish as Gael thought so himself - the mushrooms were a nice touch - and Rhett pulled open the door, thrusting a phone at Gael to call someone named ‘Milio’ followed by what he needed to ask him as he made his way around to the back of the van. Immediately, Gael’s mind had questions - did he mean ‘Emilio’ as the man was looking through his contacts (few as there were) and didn’t see anyone named ‘Milio’? And if it was Emilio, why would he know about how to kill water corpses - he was just a PI, right? Nonetheless, Gael caught the vaguely-unhinged smile that Rhett offered him as he pulled a cutlass from the back of his van and he got to work dialing Emilio; hopefully this was the right person. “Hey Emilio, I need– No, it’s Gael, look– Okay look I don’t have time for this, Rhett needs to know how to kill a corpse that came from the ocean.” Gael’s voice displayed impatience as he prattled to Emilio in Spanish and he urgently cast a gaze from the side of the van over his shoulder to the corpse that got ever closer, the water-slicked skin making him shudder. “Okay. Thanks, bye.” Without waiting for anything else, figuring Emilio wasn’t going to be happy about him after this, he hung up the call. “He says ‘aim for the head, cutting the head off works best and to set it on fire if it’s not too wet’??” He repeated most of what Emilio said, looking at Rhett once more.

— “Aye, well it’s pretty fuckin wet—” Rhett complained, growling in annoyance as he faced off the creature. What he didn’t know, and what had been lost in translation, was that this wasn’t just a reanimated corpse, but a drowngr, which meant it was decidedly more challenging to kill. In fact, it meant that most hunters that encountered it would simply try to trap the thing underwater where it couldn’t hurt anyone, because they all seemed to have an immensely powerful healing factor and destroying the body quickly and completely was… hard. Unless one had a wood chipper on hand, which Rhett did not. Sadly. 

With a shrug, the warden readied himself as the barnacle-covered body shuffled closer, arms outstretched. Sidestepping to avoid the creature’s grasp, Rhett gave a hefty swipe of his sword, burying it deep in the undead thing’s throat. Didn’t cut clean, of course, thanks to the elasticity of this soggy fuck’s skin, so he was left to wrench it back free, which gave the drowngr an opportunity to grab onto him. 

The freezing cold was almost immediate and very intense, and the fact that the thing’s head was mostly severed didn’t seem to deter it in the slightest. Rhett gasped involuntarily, every muscle in his body tightening against the sudden chill as the creature sapped his body heat. It drove him to one knee, which was when his gaze jumped to Gael. “Knock it over!” he yelled through gritted teeth, feeling his heartbeat begin to slow. “Ger’roff’me…!” _ One moment, he was relaying information and then the next Rhett was taking a sword to a corpse and Gael was admittedly dumbstruck as the two got into what he roughly called ‘a scene from a movie’ - that was to say, it was difficult for him to fully wrap his head around what had decided to transpire over the past fifteen minutes. They went from sea urchin searching to running from a bloated corpse and now Rhett was taking a SWORD to it– So instead of contributing anything to the squabble, at least at first, Gael just stood there dumbly as he watched the fight, wondering if he should be doing anything to assist. Maybe call Emilio again and see if he could… the professor didn’t even know, what did Emilio know about how to get rid of corpses? Then again, the question seemed to answer itself. He was shaken out of his thoughts, however, as he heard Rhett yell and his attention was abruptly pulled to the sight of the older man on a knee with the shambling, nearly-decapitated corpse looming over him like a blobfish depressurized from the deep sea, hands on the man’s arms and flesh around its sagging neck starting to knit back together as though a sword wasn’t going through it. For a second, Gael was frozen, a deer in the headlights unable to perceive anything or move. It was only a second though, and in his fashion, he sprinted forward in a burst of speed without thinking, holding his breath and rammed into the bloated body with his shoulder with all the strength he could muster and sending the three of them toppling over while he rolled on the sand. Shaking his head to recover, he glanced up to see what else he could do. “You okay?” He called, worry evident in his tone. “How else can I help?” He asked, his fear being overshadowed by his need to assist, make sure Rhett was okay.

—

Okay, so he knew zombies healed fast, but that was next level. Fuck. Needed a new plan, n’ setting the thing on fire wasn’t going to be feasible. Not with how waterlogged it was. 

“Fine,” he bit out in response, trying to shake away the sensation of slowly freezing to death in spite of the hot temperature of the day. The drowngr was a bit like a turtle stuck on its back, he realized as he got back to his feet—rolling to and fro, not posing an immediate threat. Rhett ducked around the thing’s waving arms and grabbed the hilt of his cutlass, ripping it out of the monster’s neck before handing it to Gael. “Ya wanna help? Run that fucker through n’ pin it to the ground,” he instructed. “Gonna get some rope.” Just beneath the thin layer of beach sand was dirt, warmed by the spring and summer sun and easy enough to drive a blade into. Or so he figured. 

Turning away to leave Gael to it, Rhett added a quick, “Oh, n’ don’t let it touch ya!” as he rummaged around in the van for the aforementioned rope… and something heavy to tie it to. 

— The professor scrambled to his feet as the reality of what he just did sank in, suppressing a shudder as he felt the residual slime from connecting with the corpse lingering on his shoulder like the rotten fish it seemed reminiscent of. Not considering what he would’ve done if Rhett hadn’t, in fact, been okay, Gael carefully but quickly gave the corpse who was now on its back a wide berth, almost like a dog curious about something it wasn’t sure was dangerous. Which was ridiculous. Of course Gael knew it was dangerous but while it was flipped over, waving its arms uselessly as a baby that couldn’t prop itself up yet, the thought ebbed and flowed, almost as though he was wondering why they were so afraid to begin with. … Okay, obviously his brain was mixed up about how much fear it should feel and for a moment, he subconsciously rubbed his forearms, trying to get hair that hadn’t accumulated on them off desperately. There was no fur on his arms. No aspect of the disorder had made itself present but the motion was there, fervent and almost panicked but gone soon enough. Gael arrived next to the pirate in time for the cutlass to be thrust into his hands and he cast Rhett a quick glance, his expression asking if he was serious when Gael knew the answer to that question. “Oh sure. Pin it to the ground with a sword from the back of my van while I get some rope and also don’t let it touch me.” More coping mechanisms. When faced with something Gael didn’t understand, for some strange reason, his first thought was to diffuse his own anxiety with a joke - he did it with Regan, he did it with the boys that visited him in the hospital after the attack, he’d do it now. Despite the sarcasm, he looked up and down the length of the blade with a concerned look and with a grimace, he peered down at the flopping mass. Like a band-aid. Holding his breath again and with the forward thought that he was about to plunge a sword into a man, he did so quickly, clumsily and looking like a reverse of the King Arthur myth, trying to force the sword as far down into the sword as he could while avoiding the creature’s grasp. Gael managed to do so and he staggered back in surprise and relief at his success. 

—

The sarcasm couldn’t really be held against him, and Rhett only smiled as Gael worked himself through the situation in whatever way he had to. Humans. He fought to keep them safe, and it had always been a part of his training to keep them from knowing as much as possible, which… he wasn’t great at that part. Obviously, or he wouldn’t have the guy skewering the drowngr for him like a kebab. Oh well. 

Finding a coil of rope, Rhett let out a celebratory cheer. “All right, mate—oh. Good job!” he praised, turning around to see the cutlass was buried deeply in the undead’s chest. That would be handy for what they were going to have to do next. Which was to bind the thing’s feet together. Now that it was stuck in place and unable to roll about, it’d be a lot easier to do without getting slapped by cold, dead hands. But, to make it even easier for them to avoid the thing’s chilling touch, Rhett passed a pair of gloves to Gael before putting on his own. 

“Can’t kill it, not easily. So we’re gonna make sure it stays underwater, aye?” Gloves donned, the warden grabbed one leg and motioned for Gael to grab the other, then began to loop the rope around the creature’s ankles. Next would be the hands (arms above its head was fine, comfort wasn’t the concern here), and lastly, the two ends would be connected by a rope that looped around its neck and ran up and down the length of its body. 

Then came the weight.

Rhett had, for whatever reason, an old tractor tire in the rear of his van. It was a recent road-side acquisition, and he’d give a haughty I told you so to anyone who tried to tell him that collecting other people’s garbage was a useless hobby. 

“Right. We tie the fucker t’this, then roll ‘er back into the sea. There’s a drop off not fair from here. Perfect place to sink it.” 

—

He was handed gloves and at this point Gael wasn’t even asking questions anymore even though he probably should’ve, such as ‘what the hell IS this thing’ and ‘how the hell does Emilio know how to take care of it’. So instead, he slipped the gloves on and he nodded in affirmation that he was listening to the old pirate, dark eyes observing Rhett’s movements closely so he could imitate them to the best of his abilities. And suddenly he felt like he was plunged into some unholy combination of a buddy comedy, mobster and pirate movie all at once as he helped restrain the grotesque mass of jiggling skin, swollen tissue and abhorrent stench. The good news was that he was getting his gag reflex under control, breathing out of his mouth. The bad news was literally the rest of it as he pushed the thought that he stabbed a bloated corpse to the beach and was now helping tie it together to put it back where it came from. Rhett had said that it wasn’t easy to kill and going by Emilio’s suggestion that fire would be best, the professor could see why but still. The deed was done easily enough though - at least as far as “tying someone up” went - and Gael sat back for a moment, not wanting to look at the residue on his chilled hands from touching the corpse. Instead, his gaze followed Rhett as the latter went back to his van and managed to procure a tractor tire from it. Gael didn’t even want to ask what he was doing with it and instead just gave an uncertain nod. “Okay.” He exhaled, raising his eyebrows before he shook his head and got to his feet. “Okay wait. What the hell is this?” He asked, gesturing to the wriggling body. “It’s a dead guy but like what IS it?” He asked.

—

“Don’t remember the name, lad. Somethin’ ‘bout… drownin’. On account’ah that’s how they’re made.” He grabbed some additional rope and used it to lash the creature to the tire, which the two of them then heaved up onto its side. The body dragged along in the sand behind them as they rolled the wheel back into the water, the waves lapping higher and higher at their legs and waists. The tire, heavy as it was, did not float. 

It was not a quick process, especially once they got into deeper water and had to keep making trips back to the surface for air and avoiding the trashing monster that bobbed about, suspended in the water like a balloon that was losing air. Still, they managed all right, and eventually the drop off that Rhett had mentioned appeared before them. After one last trip to the surface, the pair pushed and kicked with all their might until the tire rolled over the edge, dragging the abomination down into freezing, murky depths. 

Once they had emerged, the task complete and the beach once again safe(ish), Rhett led the way back to the van. 

“Anyway… still want those urchins?” 

— Oh gee, Gael wondered why he never thought to just call it ‘a drowned corpse’. Okay, it was fine. It was fine, they were just… tying up a bloated mass of rot and flesh to a tire then putting the tire in the ocean and just gonna leave it there where hopefully the ropes wouldn’t rot away too fast and it’d be everyone’s problem again. This was fine. He definitely didn’t feel like a re-murderer.

Maybe if they got caught and sent to prison he’d room with Rhett and they could engage in a Shawshank Redemption-like prison break thriller. These were all thoughts that flitted through Gael’s mind as he participated in the act. The effort was there, as was the tedium, but at this juncture he supposed he was just filling the time with fun things, trying to distract from the ever-present stench the corpse provided them with. Once the trio were in the water, things got a little more difficult as the dead man seemed to get more restless.

Then somehow, with a last bit of strain and a healthy kick or a few from the two of them, the corpse was sent over a drop-off in the water where it plummeted out of sight. The two surfaced and headed back to Rhett’s fan, though not without the professor suddenly nervously looking around, almost as though another undead was just waiting to materialize out of nowhere to add more onto his already-struggling plate.

The other man’s question punctured his thoughts and Gael’s dark gaze slowly drifted over to the pirate, his expression half-lidded with raised eyebrows as though to say ‘you can’t be serious right now’. A pause with the man glancing between the old sea dog, the van and the beach, he scoffed and gave a small shrug. Mama didn’t raise a quitter or a coward.

“Sure.”

[ultimavela]

The promised ones – 4. Who The Promised Ones are.

As I told you in the previous post, a few months ago I came up with something more robust as a base from which to explore what I wanted to do with this game –this sort of simple and flexible system that I already created for Summer Myth Hunt (to which, as a side note, I will add a map and a Spanish version in a couple of weeks)– and also I had an idea for a setting and its cosmology as I vaguely sketched on the first post of this game design log.

But with these two things now settled as ground, I still had to answer the question, “What is this game about?”.

Although I had this vague idea of a world scarred by a calamity (where the remnants of it created regions of ever-changing reality) what focused the idea was an experience I had as a player that I found myself falling into every time I designed or thought about games; the archetype of the outsider, the cursed one, the one who has been bestowed by a sign that others look at with a certain wariness, suspicion, and even fear (perhaps having had my first ttrpg experience with VTM is to blame).

In fact, I fall into these themes over and over again, and they are present in both of my games, SMH (Summer Myth Hunt) and The bookworm Circle –one about hunters of the myths created by the imagination of humans who have to be careful of being caught by the human-world, and the other about a group of birds that take human bodies to infiltrate human society and to stop the destruction that humans will cause to their native forest.

But for The promised Ones this idea began to grow from one of the strokes of the setting sketch I already had on my mind; that the remnants created by the calamity were pockets of reality ruled by some kind of being or deity.

From there the train of thought began; what if these beings can give favors? Maybe the PC (player characters) had their favor? No, wait. What if the PC's progenitors took the favor of these beings, and what they gave in return for their gift was their unborn child?

That's how The promised Ones manifest themselves, and what they will do in the game, or in a more precise way, what players will do as promised ones, is what will ultimately answer the question “What is the game about?”.

And this is when setting, characters, and character sheet began to merge, to form new things.

I saw from the character sheet (and its slots to collect things from the world) that PC's could “hunt” for something (as characters in SMH did), and then characters came into play, to show me that this hunting was a task entrusted to them by the being they were promised to, and then setting presented itself, telling me that “this” they are entrusted to hunt is something that was a consequence of the event that created the pockets of realities that these beings govern.

Yes, I know this whole thread is a bit chaotic, but I just wanted to try to convey to you how these ideas became something in my mind and in my notebook, how things blend and stick together to become something new.

But maybe it's better if I show you the first page of the game, so you can all see the result (It's still in the process of finding its right shape, which will probably take a little more time because I want to give this game time to develop on its own, and me to find nooks and crannies and depth within it).

So here it is, the first ideas, maybe the basis of what this game is about. I hope you found something interesting in here, perhaps something that inspires you, or at least makes you want to see what else is in here. In the next post I will show you how the character sheet evolves and what other interesting things I have found along the way exploring how the setting, the character sheet and the character interconnect and enhance each other.

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi Astra-san! I loved how you wrote Killer on my last ask and. If you're not to busy or don't mind, I would like to ask for a high-school Au fic with the 4th fluff prompt with Killer please ❤

Thank you very much and keep up the good work!!! Bye-bye 👋

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 850

Okay, so I’m sorry this was so short, but I really liked the ending the way it was. Also, I hope I still did an okay job portraying Killer. This is only my second fic with him, so I’m still getting used to writing for him.

Days like today always had Killer feeling a little nostalgic. Sunny spring days where the sakura blossoms slowly drifted to the ground. It reminded him of the day he first fell in love with you, spotting you sitting under a pink and white tree, the petals drifting down around you as you read. It was one of the rare days that Kid and Killer had decided not to sleep in or skip classes. He’d never say it aloud, or at least not where anyone but you could hear, but he’d fallen head-over-heels for you that day, watching as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, surrounded, framed, by flower petals. An otherworldly beauty that had taken his breath away. He’d been overjoyed when he’d learned that you were new and would be joining his class. Of course the blessings didn’t seem to cease that day when the only available desk was the one next to him, when you tripped and he was able to catch you, and the times when you’d walk to the front of the class to solve a problem or something and he’d get to admire your lovely body. He’d wanted to ask you out on the spot, but had ultimately decided to wait. Fuck had the waiting been torture, getting to know you more and more, all while falling for you harder and harder. Kid had thought it was just a fleeting crush, maybe some teenage lust that was driving his friend forward until Killer hesitantly explained the pounding in his chest, the flips that his stomach was doing, and the desire to protect you from even the slightest harm. Thankfully, while the idea sickened him, Kid was still willing to help and support his friend, doing his best to simultaneously not gag and help Killer. It hadn’t taken long for Killer to ask you out, yearning for you in silence for just a few weeks had been too hard for him to wait another day. So on another day like today, a day covered in flowers, he’d taken your hand in his and sealed his fate. The first time he’d held your hand, the first touch, felt like electricity shooting down his spine and suddenly every nerve ending was alight. He hadn’t realized that his breath had caught in his throat, staring into your eyes until you’d tried to grab his attention. It hadn’t been the confession that he’d intended, he’d wanted something a little sweeter for you, but your soft hand in his, your beautiful eyes staring into his, he’d pulled you into a sweet yet passionate kiss. From that day, your hand rarely left his, walking down the halls and your hand was in his. Sitting on a couch talking with friends, his arm wrapped around your shoulder while holding your hand. Even when he had you pinned to the wall in a passionate make out session, one of your hands was still in his. Another thing he’d never admit to anyone other than you was how holding your hand almost made him feel like he was falling in love with you all over again. Every touch still had the same electric feeling running through his body. Sitting under a sakura tree, looking at your hand in his, you caressed the back of his battered hand with your thumb, drawing his attention to you.

“Why do you always like holding my hand?” you asked, taking his hand in both of yours, running your fingers of his palm, as if mapping his hand out. Killer stared at you for a moment before taking both of your hands in his, holding them, calloused thumbs gently rubbing over your skin.

“Because, I’m obsessed with the way your hand fits in mine. They fit so perfectly in mine, as if they were made for each other.” Killer said, bringing your hands up to his lips and placing gentle kisses on each of them. It was true, he loved how perfectly they fit. No matter how he held your hand, it always felt so perfect and natural, as if they belonged like that. You smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. To be honest, you loved how your hand fit in his as well, even if it was just him holding your hand, it always made you feel so safe to have his hand enveloping yours, like nothing could hurt you. 

“I think they fit together perfectly too. I like to think that they were made for each other. That… we were made for each other.” you said, the last few words coming out in a whisper. Killer gave you a soft smile, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his other hand moving under your chin, tilting your head up as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. A single soft kiss quickly turned into another heated make out session with him, like they often did, his free hand on the back of your head, fingers threaded through your hair, your arm wrapped around his neck, and your hands still intertwined as they always were.

[the-bau-quinjet]

Please Don't

Summary: Hotch and Y/N have been pining for each other but everything changes after they go undercover for a case.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence, angst

Word Count: 2289

a/n: Thank you for this request!! I love a good Hotch moment. I hope you like it!

Masterlist

"Alright ladies! Here's the first round." Emily smiled as she set the four glasses down in front of you all.

Girl's night had just started. It being Penelope's turn to pick the nights events meant you, Emily, and JJ were in for a long night of bar hopping.

"Yes!!!" Penelope nearly screamed, grabbing her drink and taking a large gulp. "First question of the night goes to Y/N."

Your eyes widened as everyone turned to look at you. Whatever game Penelope was trying to play was clearly not going to go well for you.

"Oh, God. What is it?" You grimaced, eyes flitting between the three of them.

"When are you going to do something about your crush on Hotch?" Emily wasted no time in getting into the hard hitting questions.

"And don't even bother denying it! It's so painfully obvious." JJ added on, eyeing you skeptically.

"First of all, rude. Second of all, fine. I have a hopeless crush on our boss. Are you happy now?" You playfully glared, knowing there was no use in even trying to pretend.

"So? When are you going to do something about it?" Penelope was giddy, always one to celebrate new relationships.

"Uh, never." You deadpanned.

"Why not?" She whined in response.

"Pen, he's my boss for one. Plus it's highly unlikely he feels the same. I mean, how would I even bring that up?" You shook your head, trying to avoid the conversation.

"Y/N, Hotch is totally into you-" Emily's rant was cut off by the sounds of all of your phones buzzing.

You all shared a glance before confirming your suspicions.

"Another girl's night cut short." You shook your head. "Who needs a ride?"

The four of you quickly made your way out of the bar before piling into your car and heading to the Bureau.

-

"Damn ladies, looking good." Derek greeted you when you piled into the elevator together.

You hadn't thought about changing before coming in. None of you were wearing anything wildly inappropriate. Your outfit was just a bit more form fitting than a typical day in the field required.

"Thanks Derek." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the elevator and immediately heading for the conference room.

Aaron's eyes were on you almost instantly. He always looked for you first when a new case came in.

"You ever gonna tell her?" Rossi asked from next to him.

"I have no idea what your talking about." Hotch kept his face neutral despite knowing there was no real point in denying it to Dave.

"I see the way you look at her. You know, I see the way she looks at you too. you deserve to be happy, Aaron." He replied easily, a smirk on his face as he took a seat in the conference room.

Hotch merely shook his head, trying to supress the smile forming at the idea of you returning his feelings.

He quickly moved on to debrief the team ultimately telling everyone to meet at the jet.

-

Three days later, another couple was dead, and you were no closer to catching the guy.

"Wait, there's a new pattern." Reid jumped up, pointing out the abduction sites on the map. "He's moving south, alternating between 11th and 14th Street. Each abduction happened at a different club on those streets. If he follows pattern the next abduction will be tonight at Cameo." He pointed out the next club on the map.

"So we'll stakeout the club, stop him before he gets another couple." Morgan suggested.

"We can't risk a takedown inside the club." Hotch ran a hand over his face.

"What if two of us go undercover? Pretend to be a couple and then we can stop him when he tries to abduct us." You suggested a new plan.

"That could work." Dave added on, sending you a nod. "You and Hotch fit his victimology."

"What d'ya say, Hotch?" Your heart was beating rapidly, but you refused to let it show. "Wanna go on a date?" You playfully nudged his side.

"It's our best plan." He nodded resolutely. "Go with Emily to get something to wear."

You smiled at him before turning to see a mischievous look on Emily's face. She whispered in your ear as you walked out of the room.

"Get ready. Hotch won't be able to keep his eyes off you tonight."

-

"Are you sure I should wear this?" You pulled the dress down a bit, trying to cover more of your thighs.

"Yes. You look amazing, and this is definitely going to catch the eye of our unsub." JJ complimented as she added a few finishing touches to your hair.

"It's just now dawning on me why we don't do undercover work." You flinched away from Emily as she attempted to add a third layer of mascara.

"Oh, hush. This was your idea. Everything will be fine. Better than fine if you're lucky." She winked, capping the mascara and throwing it back into your makeup bag.

"Em, this is work. I'm absolutely not making a move on Hotch while trying to lure an unsub to abduct us." You deadpanned.

"I'm not saying make a move! This is your opportunity to flirt a little and see how he responds." She shrugged casually.

You were about to provide another rebuttal when a knock sounded on the door to the bathroom.

"Y/N, you almost ready?" Derek called from the other side of the door.

"Coming out now!" You nearly ran out before Emily or JJ could try to convince you to flirt with Hotch again.

"Damn, L/N." Derek smiled when you exited the bathroom. "Looking good. You know who else might think so?"

"Can it, Derek. I'm in no mood." You swiftly walked past him. You could hear Hotch arguing with Rossi about something as you walked up to the conference room door.

"Dave, cool it will you?" Hotch rolled his eyes, not noticing you yet.

"I'm just saying Aaron-" He tried again.

"Well, don't." Hotch's playfulness rarely came out on cases, but you could see a glimpse of it in the way he bantered with Dave.

"Ready to go?" You asked from the doorway, putting your comm's device in your ear. You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at the way Aaron looked at you.

"Ready." He gave you a tight smile, diverting his eyes from your tight dress.

"We'll be right outside. All the exits covered." Dave reminded the two of you, nodding as you walked out the door.

-

"Here you go, one vodka cranberry." He winked when he passed the glass over, a subtle reminder about the lack of alcohol coursing through you.

"Thanks." You shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do now. You'd been by the bar for about an hour, and nobody suspicious had caught your eye.

"Do you want to dance?" You surprised yourself by asking the question, watching as Hotch's eyes widened slightly. "I just, the other couples? Didn't witnesses say they were dancing?" You whispered the last part, obviously trying to limit anyone overhearing your conversation.

"Right. Of course." He looked nervous, but you chalked it up to not doing undercover often.

You lead him to the middle of the dance floor, trying to find the best view of the doors. It took a few minutes of awkward swaying, but the two of you found your rhythm.

"Behind you, there's a man watching us." Hotch whispered in your ear sending a shiver through your spine.

You nodded slightly in response before turning around. You pressed your back to his chest to cover the movement, eyes flitting around the room to observe anyone suspicious.

It didn't take long for you to spot the man Hotch was talking about. You moved your arms up around his neck, pulling his head closer to you so you could whisper to him.

"Got him. How do we get him outside?" You suppressed the urge to grind your hips against Hotch's. It was hard enough to deal with the feeling of his hands on your hips.

He spun you around, pressing your chests close together. Again, he moved his mouth close to your ear to whisper, "we just need to give him a show."

He pressed his lips to yours lightly, waiting for your response. You kissed him back with passion, relishing in the feeling of his lips moving against yours.

Your breath caught in your throat when he pressed a series of light kisses to your neck. You involuntarily tilted your head to the side, giving him more room to work.

"I think we've got his attention. Let's head out the back door." Hotch grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him toward the back of the club.

The cool night air sent a chill through your body, but you didn't have long before the man burst through the door behind you.

Hotch easily overpowered him, knocking the gun from his hands. He pulled handcuffs from his pocket, quickly securing his hands behind his back.

"Morgan, we got him out back." You spoke into your comms, turning slightly when movement in the shadows caught your eye.

"Y/N, get down!" Hotch jumped in front of you just as you heard a gun being fired. He fell into you, slumping against your body. Everything happened so quickly.

"FBI, drop your weapon!" Morgan yelled, running closer to the man in the shadows.

He quickly handcuffed the partner, leading him to a waiting officer while Emily collected the other unsub.

"Aaron?" You looked at him in your arms noticing the blood soaking through his light blue shirt. "I need a medic!" You called down the alley, watching in terror as two medics removed Aaron from your arms.

You were frozen in place as they put him on a gurney and pushed him into a waiting ambulance.

It wasn't until the ambulance was completely out of sight that you realized Reid was talking to you.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He gestured to the blood on your dress and hands.

You nodded silently, pointing to where the ambulance just was.

"Let's get you to the hospital okay?" He spoke softly, not wanting to add to your distress. He grabbed a shock blanket from a paramedic before leading you to an SUV. Derek and Emily sat in the front, ready to drive as soon as you got in.

You don't remember the ride to the hospital. You don't remember JJ helping you wash the blood from your hands. You don't remember a nurse updating you on Hotch's surgery. You don't remember anything except the look in Aaron's eyes as he bled out in your arms.

"Aaron Hotchner?" The doctor called out into the waiting room. All six of you stood up, eyes fixed on the woman in scrubs. "His surgery was successful. I can take one of you to see him."

The whole team gestured to you, knowing how you felt and how much you needed to see that he was okay.

"Follow me." The doctor lead you down the winding hallways to a recovery room where Aaron was asleep. "He's still under anesthesia for now. It should wear off in a few hours."

You nodded as she left, still unable to form any words as you took in his pale appearance.

"Aaron." You whispered his name, eyes brimming with tears. You pulled the chair as close as you could next to his bed, both hands wrapped around one of his.

You must've fallen asleep because before you knew it, the hand in your grasp was squeezing you back.

"Aaron?" You lifted your head from the side of his bed, eyes focusing on his. "Oh, thank God." You felt the tears brimming again.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay." He murmured softly, moving his free hand to wipe your tears.

"No. You're an idiot who jumped in front of a bullet for me." You whispered back, voice breaking.

"I'd do it again." He took no time to craft his response, only causing more tears to fall down your cheeks.

"Aaron-"

"Y/N, I don't have anyone else in my life quite like you. I haven't in a long time." His eyes never left yours as he spoke. "You make me feel like I could be happy again. Like Jack could have two people to provide him unconditional love everyday in his life again. Like maybe, just maybe, I could love someone again. I would jump in front of countless bullets for you because I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"Please don't." You whispered, eyes still watery.

"What?" Hotch could feel his heart breaking at the thought of you not returning his affection.

"Please don't jump in front of anymore bullets for me. I don't think I could survive this feeling again." You took a deep, shuddering breath. "Watching them wheel you away on that gurney... it felt like my heart was being cut open. Aaron, there's not a day that goes by where you don't make me smile. Even if it's just the thought of you. I can't imagine my life without you either."

He continued to wipe tears from your face as you spoke.

"Would now be a good time to ask you out to dinner?" He smiled when you laughed.

"I think now is a great time for that." You smiled, leaning your head into his hand.

"Perfect. So, will you get dinner with me?" He nearly whispered.

"I'd love to." You pressed a soft kiss to his lips before setting back against your chair.

It didn't take long for him to fall back asleep. This time, when you leaned your head against his leg, your heart felt full.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

[genshin-hours]

Ooh! Welcome back! Hope you've been well and taking care of yourself. Don't forget to do so, okay?

As for my request, would it be alright for HCs of Antonio, Wu Chang and Andrew with a S/O who always rescues or at least tries their best when rescuing and usually the last to go out in matches because they want to make sure everyone who can get out gets out fine? Hope this made sense.

Thank you for the hard work!

antonio, wu chang, and andrew with selfless, rescuer s/o (gn reader)

this is a cool ask! and tysm darling I appreciate it 💖 I hope you're taking care of yourself as well. and you're welcome ty for the lovely ask. hopefully this is good!

antonio

this poor man hates going against you

he tries so desperately not to hurt you, and it physically pains him everytime he sees you bodyblocking for your teammates while on half health or attempting dangerous rescues

if he finds you, he will definitely miss you on purpose or play cat and mouse with you until he finds someone else and then leaves you to chase them

it pains antonio to down you when you come barreling in for an impossible rescue

no matter if you're about to win or lose, you're always out last, waiting for everyone at the gate

he hates it because it forces him to make a choice

he will swing, and he often hits you on detention, and if your team has already secured a tie, it will pain him, but he will chair you usually

sometimes he will just carry you out the gate with a kiss on your forehead though

however, if you're one of the last ones left, he will just gently hold you and look for the dungeon

antonio knows how it pains you when you're the last one left even though you've done everything you can to help your team

antonio will spend time with you in the match, telling you that you did a wonderful job, and you played well

if your team wins, he will walk around with you a little bit and chat, taking you to the other gate and walking the long way

if it's a bad match and you're hurt, he will do his best to patch you up after the match and kiss your scrapes and cuts better

always reminds you to stop sacrificing yourself so much, and that while you're the rescuer, you have to realize it is futile sometimes

he is very proud of how strong and determined you are though, and he admires you for your spirit :)

wu chang

fan and xie have different opinions about this

xie admires your courage, but he wishes you would be more careful

he admires how well you bodyblock and how clean your rescues are sometimes, definitely praises you about it later

but, he sometimes chastises you for bodyblocking on half health or attempting to rescue on detention

he hates having to down and chair you, and it pains him even more when nobody comes to rescue you and he must send you off with a gentle kiss

even though you guys are together, he isn't going light on you, though he isn't as bad as fan

he might accidentally miss you or hit you much lighter than he hits the others on your team, but he is still playing the game fairly

he sometimes sighs when he sees you struggling to make it to the gate because you stayed behind to help someone, and it hurts him to down you, but it has to be done

xie is alright with giving ties, but he will seldom let you go if 2 or more of your teammates have already escaped

sorry, love, but you're getting the chair 💔

fan on the other hand will make an intense game out of the match

works harder to chase and down you, but it's only because he needs to get you out of his mind

he won't chair you, just leaves you in the corner or at the top of the hospital and tells you to stay while he hunts your teammates

he definitely gets irritated when you pull off so many rescues and bodyblocks, and he gets upset when you attempt a futile rescue when you both know you're not making it out

also makes him mad when you stay outside the gate too long waiting for someone, and if you block his hit on your other teammate so that they escape, he is chairing you no question and scolding you

fan almost never gives ties, sorry 💔 but sometimes xie will coax him into letting you go out the dungeon (thank him later for that)

they both admire your courage but they wish you would stop sacrificing yourself so much

xie loves seeing how caring you are for your teammates, but fan doesn't understand

andrew

andrew is ultimately confused by your behavior

he is a rescuer himself, so he wonders why you offer to rescue even before your teammate is put on the chair

andrew gets upset when he sees you getting downed alot, and it pains him to see your scrapes and bruises

he gets super worried when you leave the safety of the gate in an attempt to rescue someone across the map or help someone get to the gate, and he often will follow you for backup

andrew is skittish but when it comes to his s/o he will follow them anywhere

if you're body blocking for someone, ready to take the hit, he will jump to take it for you, urging you to run to the gate as fast as you can.

andrew is surprised by how clean your rescues are, and he is definitely blushing when you come to save him

send him a wink and he will melt on the chair

when it's his turn to rescue, though, he will bodyblock like hell

nobody is touching his angel >:(

he admires how strong and brave you are, and he admits he could never be that tough to stay behind

andrew tends to your injuries afterwards, kissing them carefully and begging you to let him do the sacrificing next time

he knows you'll keep being selfless and staying behind, so expect him to follow you

and expect your team to whine at you when you both get downed accidentally because he tries to protect you lmao

[markosmate]

to the dark side

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language + mentions of blood

au:// Part 5 losers, have the whole thing mapped out from here hehe I’m excited for y’all to read everything :))

Part 4   -   Part 6

“Be one of us.” David’s words echoed a couple of times through my head. My eyes flickered between Marko and Michael, wondering why drinking from this bottle initiated someone into the group - yet also wondering if Michael was going to accept this invitation they were giving him.

David held the bottle up and out towards my brother, in a silent sort of offering. As Michael stood to make his way closer to David, the other three boys started softly chanting his name in a mocking fashion. My brother grabbed the bottle from David’s hands, and slowly turned it in between each of his own. Star came up right behind him, and began speaking to him in such a low voice that I could barely hear her from where I was sitting.

“Don’t. You don’t have to, Michael.” She pleaded softly and I could my eyes roll involuntarily. Was this her way of trying to tell him not to be peer pressured? It sure didn’t seem like she cared about pressuring him when she was letting her boyfriend lead him to the edge of a cliff.

“Michael.” David whispered along with the boys, eyes piercing into the side of Mike’s head.

“It’s blood.” Star’s voice was louder this time, like she wanted everyone to hear what she had exposed to him. But, after the whole maggots and worms play - he didn’t seem to want to fall for another one of the group’s tricks.

He chuckled nonchalantly and nodded his head in a sarcastic manner. “Yeah, sure. Blood.” And then he raised the rim of the bottle to his lips and took a few big gulps of whatever it was. The boys let out a few scattered cheers, Paul even pumping his fists into the air in celebratory manner.

But the celebration was short-lived, as the four boys’ gazes turned back to me. Marko moved forward quickly, snatching the bottle away from Mike’s grasp before he could chug down all of it and moving towards where I was sitting. He crouched down in front of me before offering the bottle to me with a sly smirk creeping up on his lips.

“Drink some sweet thing. Be one of us, just like Michael.” I still hadn’t the slightest clue what that was supposed to mean - why would drinking some cheap alcohol out of a home-made bedazzled bottle make you automatically apart of the group? The way they were putting things wasn’t making any sense, but I could overlook that for right now. Because in this moment, Marko was looking at me with such hopeful eyes that I almost couldn’t pick up on the deceit hidden underneath it. But I felt like I’d do anything he asked me to, so I reached forward to take the bottle from his hand.

The boys watched on with excited eyes, eagerly anticipating my next moves. I glanced over towards Star, who had Laddie by the shoulder and was leading him away as she watched Michael with a disappointed gaze. Maybe it was blood? Maybe that’s why she looks so shaken right now? Because Michael had drank some even after she warned him not to? I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind - I was probably just overthinking - and raised the rim of the bottle to my lips.

The substance came pouring into my mouth and it burned it’s way down my throat. It tasted nothing like any alcohol I’d ever drank before - it was so much stronger, but at the same time so much more addicting. I wanted nothing more than to keep taking swigs of whatever it was but before I could even process what was going on, the bottle was tugged gently from my lips.

The boys all cheered, their shouts echoing through the cave, as Dwayne and Paul began chanting Michael and I’s names. All of my previous rational thoughts of staying far away from these boys and any of the trouble that came along with them were long out the window by now.

The substance I had drank gave me a drunk sort of feel and all I knew was there was a hot dude giving me what seemed to be alcohol and all of his friends cheering my brother and I’s names around us. David yelled out a “Bravo!”, reaching over to take the uncorked bottle from Marko to hand back to Michael.

Paul let out a loud laugh and momentarily stopped his cheering to lean over and clap me on the shoulder. “You’re one of us, girl! Let the good times roll.”

I wanted to be by Marko’s side, but David had beaten me to it. “Give me a ride, Marko.” The curly blond sent me a quick, mischievous grin before standing up and making his way behind David, beginning to push him around the fountain on the wheelchair.

I didn’t know what they meant by that, but they all kept saying it over and over so it had to mean something other than a cheesy initiation. I ignore the feeling in my chest that I had somehow just made a horrible mistake, and continue on partying with the others. I’m just overthinking it after all, these dudes are cool, what could go wrong honestly?

-

The answer was a lot. A lot could go wrong. David announced that we all had somewhere we needed to be, and Michael and I blindly followed the boys out of the cave and back up to the top of the bluff. I’d gotten on the back of Marko’s bike without a second thought, and soon the five bikes were racing through the slim trails of the woods once more.

It didn’t take long before they pulled up next to some train tracks - David, Dwayne, and Michael parking their bikes on one side and Marko and Paul parking their bikes on the other. I climbed off with a little stumble, still feeling the tiniest bit dizzy from drinking whatever alcohol was in the bottle that they gave me. The boys began walking on the tracks, out and over the bridge. 

“Perfect timing.” David led in the front and Marko grabbed one of my belt loops to pull me into his side as he threw his other arm around Dwayne’s shoulders.

“What’s going on?” Michael’s voice echoed.

“Michael wants to know what’s going on.” David teased the slightest bit. Paul laughed a bit as we walked farther out onto the bridge. “Marko,” He spoke again. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Marko grinned. “What’s goin’ on, Paul?”

“Wait a minute, who wants to know?” Came Paul’s genius reply - quickly followed by,

“Michael wants to know!” From Dwayne, who had finally spoken up for the first time that night.

“I think we should let Michael, and Ivory,” David paused slightly to begin including me in on their hazing. “Know what’s going on.” The platinum leader stopped a few feet ahead of the boys and turned with Michael at his side, before leaning forward the slightest bit to wrap a cold hand around my wrist. He tugged me gently away from Marko’s hip, bringing me to stand next to him and my brother to watch the three others of the group.

“Yeah.” Paul sung out, body practically buzzing with what I could only assume was excitement for what was to come. David tilted his head with a small mischievous smile and spoke once more.

“Marko?” I turned my head back to look at said boy once more with furrowed eyebrows.

He wasn’t looking at me however, instead opting to stare only at my brother. He lifted his hand and twirled his fingers in a small sort of wave before grinning wickedly. “Goodnight Michael.” Before he dropped with an echoing “Bombs away!” I gasped, my head whipping around to look at David yet his expression hadn’t changed a bit.

Michael’s jaw hung open in pure confusion, only confirming that he too had seen what I had. Paul stepped forward with a similar grin and looked between Michael and I quickly. “Bottoms up, man. Yeow!” He dropped just as suddenly, and was quickly followed by Dwayne who only shot us silent finger guns before dropping down the same opening in the bars that the previous two had. I stared, absolute shock and fear cursing through my blood. Had they just literally jumped to their deaths right in front of us? They couldn’t have, how would that make any sense?

David moved to step in front of us, and with a hand on Michael’s shoulder he leaned in the slightest bit to speak. “Come with us, guys.” Before he, too, stepped off the edge and dropped through the bars. With one short glance at my brother, who was too busy staring at where David had just fallen to notice I was looking at him, I rushed forward and kneeled on the edge to stare down into the fog. A huff of relief left my lungs and I laughed breathily as I stared down at the four boys hanging from the support beams.

The four cheered a bit, finally making some noise once Michael leaned down next to me, curiosity ultimately getting the best of him. “Hey, Ivory!” Marko called up with a grin on his lips, attention then momentarily taken from me as Paul swung his legs up to kick at the shorter boy.

“Michael and Ivory Emerson!” David’s rough voice cut through the other boy’s cheerful shouts. “Come on down!” He taunted, his laugh afterwards cause the nerves in my body to go haywire. I never thought I’d genuinely come face-to-face with the expression about all of your friends jumping off of a bridge, but here we were now.

I grinned at Michael and clapped him on the shoulder teasingly before moving to climb down onto the bar across from Paul. My arm strength wasn’t nearly as good as Michael’s, but adrenaline was coursing through my body at such a rate that I didn’t care. “There ya go, girl!” Paul laughed loudly kicking at my legs this time instead of Marko’s. I reacted just as quickly, kicking back at him in a competitive manner as the grin on my face grew. I saw Michael climb down in front of David out of the corner of my eye as Marko began to shout once more.

“Yeah, let’s play a game! Let’s play a game, baby!” He dragged out each syllable of the last word and my stomach flipped a few times at his voice, but I needed to focus more on not falling to my death than whatever it was he was getting at.

Paul laughed along with his friend. “Welcome aboard, Michael.”

David’s chilling laugh echoed once more, and the wind carried his voice to me though I could tell he was only really speaking to Michael. “Fun, huh?” Suddenly the tracks above us began to vibrate, and not long after they began to viciously shake as the horn of a train blared through the night. I felt my stomach squeeze uncomfortably as the boys continued their obnoxious shouts. I glanced over in Marko’s direction for some reassurance only to see him pulling himself up once through the bars before dropping down to hang once more with a mocking grin on his face. He wasn’t looking at me though, his attention was over towards Michael who I could vaguely hear shouting, “Jesus Christ!”

“Yeah!” Paul laughed, suddenly letting go of the bars and falling into the fog below. As if this entire thing wasn’t insane enough, I felt my heart drop. “Oh my God!” I cried, looking down to see if I could spot him but there was still only fog below us. My arms were burning, and I knew there was no way I’d be able to hold on much longer - never-mind try and pull myself up and over the bars to safety once the train passed.

Marko caught my eye and he sent me a wink, eyes sparkling as if he knew something I didn’t. “Don’t be scared, Ivory!” Then he let go as well, yelling out as he fell the same way Paul did.

“Jesus Christ!” Michael’s voice met my ears again, as suddenly Dwayne fell from my side as well, yelling on his way down.

“Guys!” David yelled to the both of us. “You’re one of us! Let go!”

“And do what?” I shouted at him incredulously, was he fucking serious? Were the other three dead right now? And now he was telling us to let go too?

“You are one of us, Ivory.” He assured once more before falling into the fog as well.

“David!” Michael screamed after him. The train finally passed, and the bars stopped shaking in our grasps. I looked over at my brother with wide eyes, how the hell were we supposed to get ourselves out of this one? I watched as he tried to pull himself up to no avail, and right as I went to speak to him I heard shouts from below us. It was the boys - they were alive! How the fuck were they alive?

I glanced over to Michael who was trying to pull himself up once more and felt my grip begin to slip drastically. “I’m gonna let go.”

“What?” His voice was strained and he glared straight into my soul. “No, are you insane? You’ll die!”

“I can’t hold on anymore, Mike. And they survived somehow, there’s gotta be water or something below.” And before he could even begin to protest more, my hands slipped from the bar. I screamed as I fell, the thick fog enveloping me completely and all my senses seemed to be blocked out.

I could vaguely hear my name being whispered over and over again and I was almost completely positive that I had blacked out and was just hallucinating this excruciatingly long fall. Right before everything went dark, a pair of arms cut my fall short as my eyes fluttered closed.

[moxfirefly]

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

[oh-no-a-whovian]

Despite my claws (love me) Part 3

18+

Summary: Missy Moreno is missing right after fighting a notorious villain. Marcus will do whatever it takes to save his little girl. Even working with that villain to find her.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x villain-reader

Warnings: Swears, violence, injury, weapons, Mentions of abuse and trauma. Brutal murder. If there’s others let me know

Word count: 5916

Masterlist PT1 PT2 PT4

The sun light streams through cracks in the curtains and you feel nauseous as the train starts to creak and move along the rail. A small cloud of dust plumes into the air as you drop Marcus onto the bed and he leans up on his elbows, finally conscious enough to move. You can feel his eyes on you as you stand frozen in front of him, looking around the space and feeling the sway of the train. It really is the same. Maybe more dust but nothing has moved. You’re willing to bet your old outfits are still in the wardrobe. It’s like you never left and it makes you want to burn it all down.

“You weren’t planning on telling me that he’s your father, were you?” you can hear him but you just can’t react, can’t move, you feel paralysed in place. You really never wanted to be here ever again. Last time you were on the train you barely had a mind of your own. He allowed you a little freedom but ultimately, he treated you like every other person he’d taken. He’d treated you like a slave. “[Y/N]” Marcus calls, pulling you from the whirlpool of your thoughts as he grabs a hold your hand. “Are you okay?” he asks when you finally look into his eyes.

“Do I seem ok to you?” you tell him honestly with a sneer curving your lips. “I thought it seemed pretty obvious that I didn’t want to be anywhere near this fucking train, Marcus. Now let’s kill everyone and get this over with.”

“No! No killing”

“Let’s get one thing straight.” You snap, climbing on top of him, pinning his wrists above is head with one hand and wrapping the other around his throat as he struggles, keeping your face mere inches from his. “The people on this train will not hesitate to shoot you in the face or stab you in the gut”

“[Y/N]” he warns, fighting against you.

“Are you really gonna risk your daughter for your morals, Moreno? You can either grow a pair or stay out of my way.”

“They were normal people once, you said that. Maybe we can save them…” he pleads beneath you, no longer struggling against your vice like grip.

“I. do not. care. Now, have the sedatives worn off enough for us to try to figure out where Missy is?” you ask as you sit up on his hips, releasing your grip. He nods without a word, his eyes following your hand as you check the fake scar and the edges of the mask. “Last time I was on the train the prison car was in the middle but it’s moved every few months.” You consider aloud as you climb off Marcus’ lap. “Unfortunately there won’t be a map of the layout… If we ask where the prison car is we’ll immediately be caught, locked up and brain washed. I don’t need that again.”

“But if we take too long, it could be too late” he points out.

“Yeah, we definitely don’t want to take our time. We should…” a knock on the sliding wooden door interrupts you and you glance at Marcus on the bed with worry. “What do you want?” you snap, sliding the door open with force, the emotional mask you wear sliding back into place, your lip curling in anger.

“Your father wishes for you and your friend to join him for dinner” the man at the door says. His face is devoid of emotion, not even a glimmer showing in his grey eyes. He doesn’t even look around the space in front of him, just stares as if there’s a wall right in front of him.

“I’d rather not” you reply, making to slide the door shut. He grips your wrist with bruising force, his silver eyes finally focusing on yours.

“It wasn’t optional, Sekhmet”

“Fine” you tell him, ripping your arm from his grip and sneering at his use of your dead name. You’re not that person anymore. Haven’t been for years. “How long?”

“An hour” you nod and watch as his eyes glass over again, hating that you probably looked the same once. No soul behind your eyes.

You close the door when he finally walks away and press your back to the deep coloured wood. Marcus is silent as he stands from the dusty plush surface of the bed and you can feel his eyes on you as you keep yours cast to the floor.

“We don’t have time for dinner, [Y/N]” Marcus says as he moves less than a metre from you.

“We don’t know where Missy is on this train and if he’s pretending to be an actual parent then he’s not hurting her. We have time, just not much.” You sigh, looking past him to the window. The particle filled beams of light flicker in and out, then vanish. The light that replaces them is an eerie mix of green and blue with violent flashes of purple. The sounds of clashing stones cracks through the air to match the violet blooms. “We’re not on earth anymore”

Marcus’s brown eyes glance between you and the window, confusion furrowing his brows. There isn’t a sound to indicate that the train has breached the fabric of reality, no sign, just one second you’re on earth and the next you’re on some unknown planet you can’t even breathe on. Marcus pulls open the ashy curtains, freezing at the sight sitting just outside the train.

Colours swirl around a circle of nothing and around you asteroids glowing with vibrant lines of violet smash into each other making the bursts of purple you’d seen through the cracks in the curtain. The ground around the train’s tracks is cracked, reduced to rubble with magma oozing out from the lines.

“What happened here?” Marcus asks in quiet horror as the train passes what looks to be the remnants of an ancient temple, the statues barely recognizable and the stone walls crumbling. “Was it the- the black hole?”

“Mmm, no. Apparently a planet would orbit a black hole just like they would a sun. So I’ve heard anyway” you tell him, watching the scene outside with awe. “Was probably a war or over population… they probably just over used the planet.” You shrug, glancing away from the aftermath of an apocalypse. “This isn’t the time to mourn their loss, Marcus.” you whisper gently as you place your hand on his shoulder, your fingers sliding subtly under the sleeve of his vest. You love how warm he is, you’d never tell him though. You doubt it would be accepted.

“You’re right” he sighs, looking at you, an unreadable look in his warm chocolate eyes. “We should go to dinner… with your evil father”

“Just, remember you’re meant to be a villain doppelganger of Marcus Moreno. You can act how you usually do but like you really hate it and yourself.”

“Right” he replies, looking at you with concern.

“You can either make up a name or use your normal one and ‘refuse’ to tell your real name.” you tell him as you check the fake scar once more, comforting yourself with the warmth of his cheek. Any excuse to keep touching him right? “Depends on your improv skills”

“I have a question…” he says, watching as you remove the blades from your back, continuing when you don’t say anything. “They keep calling you Sekhmet…”

“Your question?” you pause, the blades still in your hand and your chest feeling tight.

“Do you want me to just pretend I knew or that I’m not hearing it… You seem really tense when you hear it…”

“Just don’t use it, ok?” you ask him as you drop your swords onto the bed and another cloud of dust flies into the air making you sneeze and growl. “Fucking… ugh let’s just go.”

“You know where the car is?” he asks, following you as you stomp from the room.

“Uh, yeah. The only car he moves is the prison car. Maybe we’ll be lucky and the prison car will be between us and that arsehole hmmm?” you muse. “Hey you!” you call out when you finally spot one of the poor brainwashed bastards in the isle. “Get someone to clean my room” you’re not sure if you’ll find Missy tonight, might as well have a clean place to sleep right?

“Of course, Sekhmet. Your father has asked that we do as you ask” the woman smiles, her eyes just as empty as the man’s from earlier. Even her hair is dull and lifeless, hanging from a ponytail.

You grab Marcus’ arm as he reaches out, stopping him from asking the brainwashed woman where his daughter is. She steps past you both, Marcus barely registering as an obstacle in her mind as she makes her way through the corridor.

“She’s not gonna tell you shit, Marcus.” You growl “pay attention!” you smack the side of his head “the second our cover is blown we have to get off this train or kill everyone trying to take it over. Asking questions is cover blowing, got it? We need to find the prison car ourselves”

“I just want my little girl back.”

“I know… but you need to listen to me, Marcus.” You say, continuing down the corridor. “The next car should be the private dining room. I’m gonna try to see into the next two cars. If there is only two cars ahead then the prison car is somewhere along the other end of the train” you whisper.

A shiver runs down your spine as you reach the dining car door, your body freezing with your hand raised to the door. You keep getting waves of horror and chills of fear. Your hands shaking and heart beating way too fast. You don’t want to show weakness. Need not to show weakness. You know Marcus would never take advantage of you, never try to hurt you, he’s too good. But your father will and you can’t let him. This place really did fuck you up.

Glancing at Marcus you force yourself to knock, swallowing the fear in your chest.

Another woman, lighter skinned this time, slides open the door an eerily serene smile on her lips as she leads you both to the table. Your father isn’t in the room yet so you breathe a little easier as you take a seat at the mahogany table. You fix your eyes on the door leading to the front of the train, hoping to get a glimpse of the next car when your father comes through. If the next car is his room then the prison car isn’t up this end and you’ll have to make your way to the other.

The woman places a glass of amber liquid in front of you as the door opens revealing your father. You peek at the space behind him, seeing his bedroom and further through the controls for the train. You were really hoping the prison car was up this end.

“Sekhmet! So good of you and your friend to join me for dinner” your father says grinning as he sits at the head of the table.

��Didn’t exactly feel like a choice” you mumble, rolling your eyes and sipping at the drink in front of you.

“Now, now, daughter. You haven’t seen me in five years and I haven’t seen you in much longer.” He points out, smiling at the brainwashed woman as she places plates of food in front of each of you. “Is it too much to ask that I get to spend some time with my little girl?”

“Oooh! It’s almost like you care!” you say, your lips curving into a mix between a sarcastic smile and a sneer.

“You’ll show me respect, Sekhmet. You know what happened last time you got too mouthy” your breath hitches and you shy away, looking down to Marcus’ hand when it moves onto your thigh. He’s glaring at your father, the fake scar making him look even more threatening. “What’s your name boy?” your father asks Marcus once he’s satisfied that he’s curbed your attitude.

“I don’t have one. You can call me Marcus, I tried to steal his life, may as well take his name on the way out” the man beside you says to your father, a sinister smirk on his lips. You’d be lying if you said ‘bad’ didn’t look good on him. He seems to be an ok actor at least.

“Hmmm… and what reason have you two decided to leave that world?”

“Given that we were in three different fights with like fifteen different people just today. I figured it was time for a change in scenery” you tell him, keeping your eyes on the plate of food in front of you. “He was unconscious so I got our shit together and got out.” You say as you jab your fork into a piece of the food, popping it into your mouth. “One of my contacts said that your train had been spotted circling the city”

“Interesting” your father says, his eyes shifting between you and Marcus as he places pieces of food in his mouth. “What did you think of the view?” he asks, nodding toward the window you can all see. Outside pieces of glowing debris float and collide outside the moving train’s window.

“Didn’t think much of it.” You admitted, you thought it was morbidly beautiful but you’ve seen so many places. It’s just one more to add to list.

“Did you recognise it? We passed a temple a while ago.” You pause, confusion marking your features as you glance between the monster you call your father and the ruined world outside.

“Why would I?” you shake your head, watching out the window to see if maybe you do.

“This place was one of your favourites when you were a kid. They were the first lot to make that lion head statue for you.” he tells you, waving over the brainwashed woman for more to drink. You stare out the window dumbfounded. How? “They worshipped you like a god.” He muses.

“What happened to them?” Marcus asks, looking out the window as a particularly large chunk of asteroid collides into the shielding around the train.

“No idea. I suspect they tore their world apart after their ‘god’ hadn’t returned in a long time. Not the first time I’ve seen religious turmoil destroy a planet.” He replies callously, sipping at what you assume is konjac, his favourite.

A heavy silence fills the room as you stare into space. You don’t know what you feel. Horror? Sadness? Fear? Guilt? Rage? Everything? You are definitely holding yourself still though, the urge to end your father at the forefront of all thoughts and feelings. You know you can’t, not yet anyway. If you do all his minions will go berserk. You’d prefer to do it on a planet with a breathable atmosphere. So you can jump if need be.

You can feel your father studying you, hear his fingers topping on the wooden table. He’s probably looking for weakness, for a moment to call in the troops and lock you and Marcus away. It would definitely fast track finding the girl but fuck any plans for escape.

“I need to prep the next dimensional phase. You know where your room is.” Your father says dismissively as he gets up, gesturing for his little slave to lead you and Marcus from the room. You hadn’t even noticed the weapons strapped to the small of her back till now. This place is fogging your mind and you fucking hate it.

~~~~~

You watch Marcus with interest, fighting what you know is a bad decision. You didn’t say a word the whole way back to your old room, how could you? The place you loved most is gone, the one man you’ve started feeling things for is your enemy and is in the most dangerous place you could think of and you’re pretty sure your father has already started his mind game, manipulative bullshit. You need a distraction but you know you shouldn’t try that. You want to lash out.

You keep your back pressed against the door and breathe slowly. You can feel Marcus’ eyes on you but you keep yours closed. You’re pretty sure if you open your eyes right now you’ll jump his bones.

“So… are you immortal?” Marcus asks. You finally look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“What no?” you smile, amused by his question, breathing as the urge fades. You step over to the bed, examining the fresh green silk sheets and the smell of fresh linen in the air.

“Well your father just implied that the goddess from Egyptian mythology was you…” he says as he props himself by your wardrobe with his arms crossed.

“I was” you admit. “But although I do age slower, it wasn’t cause of that.”

“How then?”

“Know how I mentioned that we could be gone for centuries for earth?” you start, posing yourself on the now dust free bed, continuing when he nods. “Well it goes the other way too. We could end up surrounded by dinosaurs next phase jump. Has something to do with quantum entanglement or something. Or maybe how if you put a mirror light years away then looked through it, it theoretically would show the earth millions of years ago.” You propose as you lay on your back, your knees in the air and spread so you can see Marcus between your thighs. It’s a pretty good view. “It’s sciency stuff.”

“Does that mean there could be two versions of the train at one time?” he frowns, looking to the ground.

“Mmm probably… though they’d have to keep a certain distance or risk blowing up…” you pause, seeing worry on his features once again. “If you’re thinking that there’s a chance that this train from a different time point has her that isn’t possible.”

“How do you know that?”

“The space he’d have to keep between the trains is like… two states wide. Any closer and reality tries to correct them, forcing them together like hyper magnets” you tell him, rubbing your temples to remember the things your father had taught you before he stole your free will and mind. “The resulting destruction from the explosion would be devastating throughout time.”

You sigh as you look out the window to the vibrant colours of space, seeing the ruins of a once beautiful planet in a different light. You’d shown them a picture of a lion from earth during a stop there and for some reason they made statues, altars and places of worship in your name. Sure you’d done a few nice things but was that really worthy of worship? Their goddess of healing. You became something else to the people of Egypt. A goddess to be feared. You earned the title they gave you many time over since.

“This is all your fault” you hear Marcus say and you glare at him raising from your spot on the bed.

“I’m sorry?” you challenge, daring him to say that again.

“This. Is. All. Your. Fault.” He sneers, meeting you toe to toe with anger in his eyes. “If you weren’t doing awful things, my daughter wouldn’t have been grabbed!” you leap onto your feet and press your hand to his chest and force him to the wall, pinning him with your body and getting right in his face.

“Need I remind you, that I am trying to help you! You would never have had a chance without me!” you shout, baring your sharp teeth. “I’m on a train that I never wanted to see again. My own father tortured me on this fucking train!” you take a deep breath to calm yourself, keeping him pinned but lowering your voice as he looks down ashamed of his outburst. “I wasn’t even doing anything. I had no plans. I think the most ‘evil’ thing I had going on was a few stolen paintings in my warehouse and renting out space to a known drug dealer….” You sigh, loosening your force but not moving away. “If I did have something planned, I would have been a lot more upset about the children showing up instead of you…” you admit. You know he wouldn’t care about a revelation like that, you know you’re a monster in his eyes. How could you not be? You don’t exactly have much of a moral compass.

You move to step away and give him space but it seems he has other plans. He grabs your arm, pulling you back toward him and pressing his lips to yours like you had done earlier when you made the deal with him. He wraps an arm around your waist and threads his other hand’s fingers in your hair, kissing you with bruising passion. You move your hands up his body as you kiss him back with fierce aggression. Gently you curve one hand on his jaw and the other around his throat, squeezing a little as you nibble on his bottom lip.

You gaze into his lust filled eyes as he pulls away for air, panting like he’s starved of it. You could spend eternity in this moment, even in the worst place in all of reality, you’d stay. His dishevelled hair, soft lips, the warmth of his skin and the gentle tug of his fingers in your hair. If you could have Marcus Moreno for eternity, you would.

~~~~~~~

“How long does it take?” you hear Marcus ask as you glare at the clothes you used to wear, glancing to see him staring out the window to the ashy desert that now surrounds the travelling train. He’s lying naked on the bed, propped against the wall with his arms behind his head, just a silk sheet covering him from you.

“Uuh, depends.” You reply, grabbing the only outfit you’d ever liked from that point in your life and shoving it into your bag.

“On what?”

“Destination mostly. Whether or not there’s a version of the train already there. But apparently there’s a few other reasons that I didn’t get to learn…” you tell him as you pull a shirt on.

“Do you know how to… direct the train back to earth in our time?”

“Somewhat… after a few attempts sure. But I’m not sure we’ll get a few attempts…” you watch as a sand storm forms in the distance, the grey ashes swirling into the air promising violence.

“Why?”

“Just… I need you to trust me and if I say jump, you’ll grab your daughter and jump. Okay?” you can see hesitation in his eyes but he nods. Gently you lift his hand and press your lips to his palm, silently thanking him for not arguing. Getting up with a sigh you grab his clothes, vest and swords and put them next to him. “Get dressed, we’ll start making our way down the train soon. They’re gonna be suspicious…” you huff as you pull on your harness, your gun already in the holster, and pull on your jacket to conceal it.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Well… half of two plans…” you shrug. “We can sneak along the outside and try to figure out where the car is from the windows. Not my favourite. Or! We can move along the inside saying we’re looking for a drink then wing it if the prison car is past the kitchen…” you smile, knowing both plans are fucking awful.

“So we’re just gonna wing it then?” Marcus asks, an unimpressed look on his face as he fastens his vest and puts the Katanas in their sheaths on his back.

“Pretty much. We need to take our things and us being out of the room is suspicious as is… I don’t see this ending in anything but a fight. We just need the fight to be after we find your daughter.” You tell him as you pull on the harness with your two khopesh blades attached. “If we die tonight, it’s your fault.” You grin before stepping over to the door and sliding it open to peek along the hallway.

“We’re not gonna die”

“mmmhmmm” you roll your eyes, gesturing for him to grab the bags and follow. You can’t help your pessimism, it was hard enough getting off this damn train the first time.

You slide open the door to the next car silently, gesturing for Marcus to be quiet. On the right of the hallway is a familiar door leading to a room filled with bunk beds. One of four cars where your bastard father keeps his slaves. On the left a door with a window leading to the ash desert outside, the wind and sand swirling violently.

You creep through the car, then the next, hoping that the neither door to the bunks will open to reveal you two dressed for war sneaking through. Marcus remains quiet behind you, seeming to trust that you know what you’re doing.

The next car is the mess hall and you pause as you peek in. there’s a few of the brainwashed sitting at the long tables, people of different races all staring blankly at the walls as they slowly move the food into their moves. You’d never under estimate them though. They may be slow when doing menial tasks but they’re fast as lightning when it comes to drawing a gun on you. They’re almost as fast as you when it comes to melee too. It’s the main reason you want the fight to be later. So you can jump from the train and avoid them, whether your father is still in control or not.

“How are we getting through?” Marcus whispers in your ear, his body pretty much squished to yours to see the room. His body curving around yours and his hand holding your hip for stability.

“I don’t know… they may be practically zombies right now but... they still know when something is off in their peripheries.” You whisper, flinching slightly when one of them rises, moving into the next car. You assume it’s the kitchen, going by the strong food smell that floats through when the carriage door slides open. “Keep the bags low and as close to the tables as possible. Act normal.”

You rise from your position, standing tall as you slide the door open. A couple of the brainwashed stand at the sight of you, glaring at the intrusion. Their eyes shine a little brighter at the trespass, almost like they have actual thoughts. You know they don’t.

“What reason are you here, Sekhmet?” one that you recognise asks as he glares between you and the man behind you. Probably eyeing the blades on both your backs.

“Father is getting the train ready to take us to our destination, I’m just getting a drink before. You know how that world is, Cole” you tell him, putting your arms up passively. “Could be days before we find water…”

“Sounds like a you problem”

“And when exactly did my father give you free will to make an opinion?” the other mindless look at Cole, ready to jump him. Clearly they’ve been made stricter since you left, they weren’t so ready to jump you when you were showing signs of free will. Cole stutters, his eyes wide as one of the others grabs him. You can’t seem to help the sadistic grin that spread on your lips as he’s dragged past you toward front of the train. You know he’s probably not free, his brainwashing was probably only just wearing off. Everyone would know if he was truly free.

“What was that?” Marcus hisses as you step into the next car.

“A distraction” you tell him, watching the two men doing dishes with their backs to you as you pass through the kitchen.

“If he was free he could have helped us”

“Even if he was totally free he wouldn’t have wanted to. He’d have attacked us instead.”

“How do you know?” he argues, not taking no for an answer as he follows you into the next car. Another garrison car. The prison has to be soon, you’re sure you’re running out of train cars.

“I just do” you snap, freezing as a door slides open at the noise. The woman eyes you both from the door way, silently waiting. “Father said we could get some water from storage” you tell her, praying your lie will sell but moving your hand to the blade on your thigh anyway. You don’t know what allowances he’s made for you. Or if he actually made any at all. Without a word she moves back into the room filled with bunk beds and shuts the door and you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Releasing your hold on the bone grip of your blade you glance back at Marcus, trying to say ‘shut the fuck up’ but with your face.

“Let’s keep going” you whisper.

It’s almost peaceful, the sound of the train moving and the gentle snores from the sleeping people in the carriages. It’s a shame that it’s also horrible.

The next train car is another garrison and you move through it swiftly, keeping your ears focused on sounds within the room but taking note of the door to the outside. There’s three more cars, just three and you’re pretty sure none of them have exits. Missy must be in one.

You slide open the next door and you’re greeted with an almost empty sitting room. A plush blue carpet and ugly green couches and a holographic screen floating in the middle. Standing to attention by the opposite door is a buff woman, glaring at you as you take in the ugly ass room. You don’t remember it being so damn ugly.

“We need to get into storage. My father said I could take some water and I was told it’s in there.” You tell the strong woman, gesturing toward door behind her.

“You’re not allowed past.”

“My father said I could” you insist.

“You’re not allowed past” you glance between the woman and Marcus incredulously. ‘This bitch’ you glare, trying to decide what to do. You know Marcus will hate it but…

“Fuck it” you sigh, ripping your blade from its sheath, slicing it toward the woman’s throat. A strong arm blocks against your assault and a fist collides with your nose with a crunch. “Shit” you hiss, stumbling back as you clutch at your bleeding face.

“[Y/N]!” Marcus shouts as the woman shoves him aside to get to you. You’re not sure if his shout was worried or pissed as the woman shoves you violently, launching you back into a glass cabernet. Throwing punches into your gut and smashing her fist into the back of the cupboard, barely missing your head. You grimace at the crunch, that would have been your face again if you hadn’t dodged her fierce fist.

A small trail of blood trickles from your nose, filling your mouth with the familiar metallic tang and you spit it out as you move away from the woman. You flip you blade as the woman struggles, her fist stuck in the cracked remains. She growls at the hole keeping her hand in place then looks at you with rage in her eyes. A rare sign of emotions from the brainwashed zombies.

With bared teeth she rips her hand from the wood, tearing the flesh of her wrist and hand as the splintered wood fights the force. She doesn’t scream or cry out as her blood pours down her fingers, she just sneers, glancing at something over your left shoulder to the door she was guarding.

Marcus steps up to your right, his fists raised ready to fight the buff bitch.

“Why do you carry around swords, if you’re not willing to use them on people!” you hiss, keeping your eyes on your prey.

“They’re for monsters!” he yells, dodging as the guard makes the first move, trying to land punches on both of you. Even with her bloodied hand she flails, growling as she shoves past you. You couldn’t see it coming, couldn’t know that she had a gun sitting in a holster by the door. She rips the gun from its holster stuck to the side of the little table by her guard post, aiming it at Marcus.

You hear the bullet fire and feel your body move, the bullet ripping into your side as you shove Marcus out of the way. “Fucking bitch!” you scream and you throw your knife with deadly precision as she aims her gun again, the blade imbedding itself into her skull. She stumbles, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open, the gun falling loose in her hand. With one hand clasped to your side you step up the woman, you don’t know how she’s still standing with a blade lodged in her brain. You wrap your fingers around the hilt of your blade and try to pull it from the woman’s head, frowning when she moves with it, gurgling on the verge of death. With a sickening sound the blade pulls free,

Marcus is staring in horror as you turn to him, the woman finally falling to the ground. You can feel the blood oozing from your side and you wince as you move your hand to see. You wipe your blade off on your thigh and gesture for Marcus to move.

“Let’s get this over with Marcus” you breathe, moving to the next door despite your body’s protest. “Leave the bags here, we won’t be able to get out from the end. It’ll be sealed tight.”

Grunting you pull open the next door, ignoring the shelves of stuff and passing around the edge of the room. The next car has to be the prison car. On your way around the sides of the train car to reach the other door a label catches your eyes and you let Marcus pass as you pause to look at the bucket like container filled with weird little capsule like things. The label says they’re filled with water but they look like fucking tide pods and you shiver at the memory of that internet sensation. You grab the handle and take it. You’d be damned if you end up stuck out there without water.

“[Y/N]! The door is locked tight” Marcus calls out as you round the corner.

“Yeah it’s got a DNA lock” you cough, moving him to get to the receptacle. Grimacing, you place your blood coated hand upon the lock. A small buzz sounds from the lock as it clicks open. Moaning in pain you press your hand back to the hole in your side, hissing at the sheer pain. It will heal, it always does. Leaning against the wall you let Marcus open the door and go in, breathing slowly as the train jostles you.

“And here I hoped you might have actually been coming around.”

You freeze, your wide eyes looking to Marcus in the next car. His eyes meet yours as he holds his daughter, finally reunited. You breathe slowly, wincing in pain as you turn toward your father’s voice. Your eyes lock on the barrel of a gun. Shit

A/N: part three is here! Been try to make things a little less specific like features of Y/N and the meal. Curious to know what people pictured as their (plate of food) hopefully no one here is colour blind cause idk how to make this for colour blind people, sorry ⬇️. like and reblog to share the love!

@love93sstuff @superawesomegeek @whore-of-many-hot-men @sara-alonso @farfromjustordinary @i-d-k-any-more

[inkbyajm]

Sense of Enervation

pairing: C.H. x reader

category: fluff

words: 1.2k+

notes: this was requested by a lovely anon who’s been overworking lately. if you’re reading this, please take at least a teeny bit of time off to take care of yourself and your nerves :( in the meantime, i hope this brings a bit of relief into your life

Wake up, work, eat something, sleep. Wake up, work again, eat a little, work more. Your routine had been pretty much the same for what felt like ions. Christ, you don’t even remember the last time your mind was occupied by anything other than work and responsibilities.

Your schedule had changed recently, demanding twice as much hard work, taking up twice as much time and requiring twice as much energy. Except, where were you supposed to get energy from if you never slept? Well, according to scientists, the length of a normal sleep cycle is only about 1.5 hours. So, technically, you should get away with sleeping for only two hours every night, right? You had read about how some people did have that kind of lifestyle, the amount of time they saved was the most appealing aspect of it.

In the beginning, like with all beginnings, it was quite difficult and demanded a lot of willpower, you were convinced that your body simply wasn’t built that way. But with time, you found it easier to wake up without wanting to lie in bed a little longer, the grogginess barely there. Sure, you helped your body replenish its rapidly burning energy supply with endless cups of coffee, a few cans of energy drinks and a sprinkle of cold showers, but it was a system that worked. You had to keep it up until things settled down.

Unfortunately, this meant you had barely any time for Corpse. Bless his soul for he never complained once or whined about how you never spent time with him. Good thing was, you lived on the same street, which permitted him to drop by your place whenever he wanted to. Had he known of your borderline self-destructing schedule? Not exactly, but you didn’t feel like telling him was necessary, it would only worry him more.

━

It was a cloudy Thursday morning. You had slept a little longer than usual, but you figured there was no reason to get worked up over that, you could get back on track later. Just like on any other day, you got up to start your morning routine, quickly ate some breakfast, and swiftly went on to start on your duties. Oddly enough, you weren’t really feeling all that well that morning. There was a hint of drowsiness and your mind seemed foggier than usual. Assuming it was simply from the extra hour you had managed to sleep, you thought nothing more of it and brushed it aside.

Towards the end of the day, or when the sun had already set and the time had come for normal folks to eat dinner, you felt a bit hungry yourself and tiredly dragged your feet to the kitchen. Your neck and shoulders ached more than ever, not only due to poor posture, but because of stress also. Sighing, you walked into the room only to find your partner there, in front of an open cupboard.

“Jesus, Corpse,” you exhaled, a hand over your heart, “I just about had a heart attack. When did you get here?”

He lightly chuckled with a confused look on his face. “I came in like two minutes ago? I greeted you, too.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. My mind is all over the place today.” With a frown, he walked over to you and pulled you in by the waist.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” he said, gingerly cupping your face, “did you get any sleep last night?”

“I did, actually. I even got more sleep than usual. I’ll be fine, though. I guess it’s just one of those days.” you reassured him with a soft smile and pecked his cheek. He didn’t push any further.

Getting a mug from the cupboard, you placed it on the counter in front of you and stopped. What was it that you were doing? Weren’t you here for something else?

“(Y/N)?” you heard Corpse call out and turned to look at him with raised brows, “you were just kind of...staring at the cup. Are you trying to summon something or...?”

Food. That’s what you wanted. You supposed you’d get coffee too while you were at it. You scanned the room, looking through the shelves of the pantry. “Where did I put the coffee?” Stopping you in your actions, Corpse simply turned you back around and there you saw it, sitting right against the wall behind your cup.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem dazed.” he expressed his worry, rubbing your shoulders in a soothing manner.

You let out a long sigh. There was no way of avoiding it now. “I’ve been sleeping like two hours a night because I’m literally swamped with work, and I guess the fatigue has finally slipped through the cracks of the almighty caffeine.” You realised how hypocritical it was of you to be in this situation, given the fact that you always pushed Corpse to take better care of himself. 

Without another word, he took you to the living room and sat down against the arm of the couch. He then guided you to sit between his legs and began gently massaging your shoulders and upper back.

“I, out of all people, should know how fucking shitty it feels to get barely any sleep. And I understand how important your work is, but it won’t kill you to take a short break.” His voice sounded so mellow and soothing, you couldn’t help but loosen up in his embrace.

“I actually had a pretty decent day. I found a bakery that made cinnamon fucking raisin bread, so I had to order some. I wasn’t sure if I was going to stream or not, but then James Charles invited me to play hunger games on some Minecraft server. It was fucking insane. We had to like fight each other to death in this huge map-” 

Corpse continued to talk about how he was chased by three people at some point, how scared he was of constantly dying and ultimately not being able to provide good content, but how he ended up having a good few rounds, even managing to kill a couple of folks all by himself. 

━

Slowly opening your eyes, you took a moment to realise you were back in your bed, your pyjamas still on. It was quite dark in your room, near pitch-black. Had all that simply been a super realistic dream? Looking at the time, your brows furrowed more. It was well past bed-time. Suddenly, the door to your bedroom had opened and in came a curly haired figure.

“Shit, you’re awake.” he spoke as quietly as he could so as to not disturb the peace, “I had to take my medication, but the fucking bottle wouldn’t open. I’m sorry if I was too loud.”

A sleepy smile creeped onto your face. “You didn’t wake me up, bubba, don’t worry.”

He crawled under the covers and snaked his arms around your frame. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, actually. Thank you.” you sighed contentedly, closing your eyes once again as you breathed in his cologne.

“Good, because you’re gonna be stuck here until you’re fully rested. There is no escaping the embrace of death. You try, you die.” You would have laughed at his nonsensical humor, had it not been for the exhaustion that had taken over your mind and body. The last thing you registered before drifting off to a long-awaited slumber was a delicate kiss placed on the top of your head and a very quiet “I love you”.

[yandere-sins]

Tough Love

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

Another lovely anonymous commission, acting as a prequel to this story! Thank you for commissioning me again ♥

Characters: Yandere!Dragon!Shinguji Korekiyo x Boyfriend!Gokuhara Gonta x Reader Words: 3282 Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Threatening, Body distortion

Gently and mindfully closing the door behind him, Korekiyo took a deep breath. Having brought both of his new humans into their respective rooms, it was now time to wait and see what would happen. He didn’t think of himself as too harsh when he grabbed them off the ground, carrying them off to his castle. But even so, the shock and stress might have caused them to blackout. However, even if there were minor injuries, Korekiyo was confident he could treat them by now. Kiyo’s steps echoed through the silent corridors of the castle, his right hand brushing over the doors lined up on the wall. Everything was prepared and ready for them; there was nothing they’d lack while staying in this castle.

It had taken years for him to become so comfortable with what he was doing, his first few tries having ended in disaster. Never again did he want to repeat what happened, even if that meant he had to be more careful, more prepared, and more distant from his subjects. Part of him wished to be closer to them more than ever. Still, year-long experience had shown that humans and dragons could never coexist peacefully. He would never be able to go into a city without fearing getting speared upon sight, even in his humanoid form. To some degree, he could understand their fear. All of their experiences with dragons had been negative. But at the same time, he had never wanted anything more than to learn from the humans and understand them like no one of his kind had before. Compared to him, humans were so fragile and easily withered, like flowers in the winter. And Kiyo was the frost, yearning for sunny days.

Perhaps this time, it would be different, seeing that there were two of them. His previous studies had shown that connections between humans were vital for their well-being. At the same time, his presence as a dragon didn’t seem to have the same influence on them. They wouldn’t accept his companionship or love, no matter how well or bad he treated them. But now that he had the chance to observe what it was like, perhaps he’d be able to use it in the future as well. It would be interesting to see and compare those two to the knowledge he had acquired so far about singular humans, even if it would take time and patience - two things he had plenty of. Nonetheless, he knew he couldn’t be too lenient with them. Too many had opposed him before; he couldn’t risk losing these two because he was growing soft. Tough love, that’s what the humans called it, right? 

It would be exactly what he’d use on them.

Your head was still throbbing when you opened your eyes. It didn’t come as a surprise, but it was awful nonetheless. No one liked waking up feeling like shit. Warm sunlight shone upon you as you turned over in your soft bed, clutching your sides when you felt the sharp pain left on you after being grabbed by a dragon. Had you been rescued? Were you even alive? The images were still vivid in your mind; the chaos, the screams, and Gonta’s hand holding yours as you two were running away.

Gonta!

Sitting up straight, you instantly regretted being hasty. Of course, your body couldn’t keep up with the sudden movements after all that happened, but your mind grew frantic as you thought about your boyfriend. Straining your eyes, you made out the layout of the unfamiliar room you were in, furrowing your brows as the questions in your head multiplied. It was a nice room, probably the nicest one you had ever seen in your life. Finely crafted amenities, vivid colors, and pristine conditions - just like what you’d imagine a fairytale would look like. Where were you? What happened after you blacked out? Was Gonta taken too? Had someone rescued you and put you in this room so you could recover? Looking down at you, you still had your usual clothes on you, even if they were sullied with dirt. Why would someone put you in such a fancy bed this way?

It almost made you feel bad to sit in the clean white sheets with your dirty clothes, but it wasn’t the time to worry about how hard it would be to wash the stains out of the sheets. You lifted your legs off the mattress, trying to stand up, feeling the backlash of being knocked out. Even though it felt weird and a bit painful, you could determine with relief that nothing was broken. Taking weak steps, you made your way towards the exit of your room to call out to someone, ask what was going on. And maybe, find the one person you wanted to be held by most.

The door swung open quickly as you pushed the handle, no pulling or tearing like you were used to from the sometimes stuck doors all around your village. Everything seemed so immaculate. It was almost intimidating. Stepping out, you found yourself in a long hallway filled with doors. Paintings hung from the walls of places you had never seen. Even if you guessed before that this was no small house, you were still amazed by how endless it seemed to be. However, even if there were traces of living - books and plants decorating the hall - you couldn’t see anyone. “H-Hello?” you asked, your voice hoarse from screaming so much when the dragon captured you. 

No response.

Overcome with a weird feeling when no one answered you, you tried again without success. A mansion as big as this should have servants running around, right? Meeting anyone would calm the anxious rumbling in your stomach, but this way, you didn’t know where to go or what to do first. Suddenly, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approach you from the front, and you noticed the intricately decorated door. Before you could step up to it, it swung open, revealing a very familiar face. The shudder of your name fell of Gonta’s lips before he hugged you tightly, and you sunk into his arms while a heavy stone fell off your shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” he sighed, relieved, sniffling a little. 

It took a while before you two could let go of each other, but you were so thankful for feeling his warmth, knowing he really was there with you. No matter how strange and scary the situation had seemed at first, knowing you weren’t alone made everything better. “Do you… still remember anything that happened after… you know?” you asked as you separated from him, and Gonta’s expression turned apologetic as he shook his head. “It’s okay,” you whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek. Gonta gave a heavy sigh as he leaned into your affection, and you could feel how relieved he was too. “I thought… I really thought…” he mumbled, his face twitching in pain.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You didn’t want him to think about these things. About the ‘what if’s and the ‘could have been’. Hell, you didn’t even want to think about these things yourself, and you knew that they’d only cause you both suffering. All that mattered was that you were reunited and a little less lonely in your confusion. 

It came as a surprise when a sudden clap interrupted your moment of togetherness, and you looked to where it was coming from alerted. It was strange, and you hadn’t noticed anyone before, but a little down the hallway, the figure of a man was sitting on a delicate white bench, a closed book in hand. He slowly looked up, your eyes crossing. Never before had you seen such a pristine-looking human, very different energy coming from him. Having spent all your life in your village, you found it hard to discern if this was simply the aura of a noble or something else entirely. 

“I am glad to see you woke up,” he spoke as he stood up from the little bench located between two doors. “I was worried about you two.”

“Where- Where are we?” was the first question on your mind, your hand gripping a bit tighter into Gonta’s shirt as the man approached. 

“My castle. Your home,” was the curt answer you received, however, the man didn’t stop walking, eventually passing the both of you who stepped out of the way respectfully. “What do you mean?” you replied, but the man kept walking down the long corridor as if he had heard nothing. 

“You may explore as much as you want. I hope it will be to your liking,” the man stated, finally coming to a halt in front of one of the many doors, opening it before giving a short glance back towards you and Gonta and ultimately disappearing inside what laid behind. You heard the click of a lock as the door closed and looked at Gonta helplessly. “What did he mean?” 

However, Gonta didn’t have an answer for that either. “I’m not sure, but Gonta doesn’t like it…” 

You had to agree with your boyfriend, who seemed to grow more anxious by the second. Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it reassuringly before suggesting, “Let’s look around, maybe we’ll find a way out,” and he nodded, giving you a squeeze back.

Many doors wouldn’t budge as you tried to open them, but the few rooms you were able to enter didn’t help you two much on your pursuit for a way out. One led to a long banquet hall, only containing a seemingly endless table surrounded by more chairs than you could count. Another one hosted more books than anyone would ever be able to read in a lifetime. As wondrous as it was, all of these rooms didn’t help soothe your own anxiety, much less Gonta’s. It became more evident with every passing chance that something was wrong, even if neither of you wanted to admit it. You just held hands tighter, hoping that the next door would be the key to go outside. 

“Look!” Gonta called out as you searched through the office you two had stumbled upon. Perhaps it was just your own desperation, but you wanted there to be something in here to help, even if it was just a key for one of the locked doors or a map of the layout of the ‘castle’ you were in. But even after skipping through the books, some too hard to read and in questionable languages, there were no clues left behind that would point to your whereabouts. As if this place was isolated from everything. Stepping up to Gonta, he pushed away the curtain for you, big windows being revealed behind them. 

“Oh…” you gasped as you looked outside, seeing how high up you two were. It might not have been an exaggeration after all when the man told you it was his castle, considering there was a tall defense wall surrounding the building and endless fields of gold-shimmering wheat surrounding it. Inside the walls, you could only see the flourishing gardens lying beneath, decorated by colorful flowers and a small river bed winding through it. Just like everything inside the castle, it was astonishingly beautiful with flowers you had never seen before, but it didn’t deter you two from the main point of interest.

“That’s… a big wall,” Gonta mumbled thoughtfully, and you agreed with a shake of your head. Not only was it tall, it also consisted of firm, solid blocks of stone, without even a hint of aging on them. Of course, you couldn’t tell how good the condition of the outside of the wall was, but just from looking at the inside, you figured it would be hard to find a nick in it. “Do you see an exit somewhere?” you asked, stretching your neck to look as far as possible in hopes of seeing a tower or the huge gats you imagined castle walls to have.

“There is none,” a voice rang out from behind, and you turned around, startled to see the same mysterious man from before approach. Neither of you had heard the door open, and yet here he was as if he appeared from nothing. “When my humans kept trying to get out of the castle, I put a boulder in front of the exit. Now, only I can come and leave as I please.”

“Who are you?” you yelled at him, standing protectively in front of Gonta, who flinched when you raised your voice. However, the man’s words rang alarm bells in your head, and the bad feeling you had before intensified. Something about him wasn’t right. Even if it was just a slight difference, he didn’t appear as human as you would have liked him to be. Especially now that you got a better look at him, your gaze clearer than when you had just woken up, he simply felt off to you. 

“I am…” His voice trailed off as he hesitated to finish the sentence, bringing a finger to his lips in contemplation before shaking his head almost as if he was disappointed. “Have you not thought about it yet? Very well, I shall tell you then. I am who brought you here. You may call me Korekiyo.”

“Brought us… here?” you muttered, the sudden grip on your shoulder startling you, and you looked back at Gonta, who was shaking as if he had seen a ghost. Oh, you realized, your eyes widening in shock and surprise as you gasped, “The dragon!” before quickly covering your mouth with your hand.

“What-” you croaked, as you were left speechless momentarily. You felt your pulse quickening, but having Gonta behind you gave you back some strength and composure to not panic. In the very worst case, you two would make a run for it. Even Gonta knew how to act quickly, and his strength would not be useless when trying to get out. The only important thing was that you two stuck together no matter what. You could make it if you were together.

“What do you want from us?!” you yelled accusatory, brushing your hand over Gonta’s on your shoulder in comfort for both of you. “Why did you bring us here?! I- I demand to be let go, right now!”

“Why would I?” was the man’s - dragon’s? - simply answer, and he stepped forward, effectively cornering you two between the window and the office table. “You’re here to keep me company, and I can’t wait-” Holding out his hand, you saw it coming too close to comfort to your face, making you flinch away from it and bringing you and Gonta into a backwards stumble. “-to see how you’ll do,” he finished his speech, leaving you none the wiser. His hand remained in the air for a moment longer before the dragon curled it into a fist, taking another step forward.

“We’ll get out!” you announced. You had no plan and no idea how you’d manage such a deed, but neither would you accept whatever your captor planned for you two so ominously. 

A strange gleam appeared in the dragon’s eyes as you spoke rashly about your plans, and with another step, he was in front of you. Perhaps it was just a trick of your eyes, but you thought to see him change as you looked at him, a wave of shimmering scales erupting from his skin before disappearing again and his face deforming briefly into a much more grotesque form. It left you speechless until you felt both of Gonta’s hands clawing into your shoulders before he pulled you away while another hand wrapped around your chin. 

“Don’t forget at whose mercy you are.”

He was so close now that you could feel his hot breath against your skin, your body instinctively starting to shiver. Even if you pretended to be strong and courageous, your subconscious knew better as to not fear the predator in front of you. Even if his fingers were soft, claws were protruding from his nails, and his grip was merciless. It resembled when he grabbed you and dragged you off as a full-fledged dragon before you lost consciousness, a memory you’d rather not remember. 

Gonta was the one to break you two apart, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you back and close against him in an effort to protect you. You couldn’t see his face, but with how desperately he was holding on to you, you realized that he was beyond worried after witnessing this exchange. There was only a small gap between you and the dragon now, but his touch did not linger as he looked up at Gonta, who quickly began to stammer an apology. “We- We won’t! So please…” 

It was unclear if this satisfied the dragon, but he let off, crossing his arms behind his back again. “As long as you know how you should behave, it’s fine.”

Way too quickly, the dragon composed himself, not even heaving a heavy sigh despite the displeasure of being confronted by you. The deformities you thought to witness stopped, as well as the shimmering gleam of scales. He was almost back to looking like a ‘normal’ human, despite being the farthest lifeform from it. “You may explore the open rooms and sleep in the ones you woke up. Or share them, I don’t mind. I’m sure you’ll find the amenities quite comfortable and interesting, but do let me know if you need anything.”

Turning on his heel, he seemed unbothered to turn his back to you, even though you were seething with the desire to ram something into his vulnerable body at that moment. Part of you was scared, but the other was angry and confused, wondering what would happen and why you were here in the first place. If only… you hadn’t survived. Maybe it would have been better that way.

But you couldn’t think like this. Not when there was another person who needed you.

Supported by Gonta’s arms, you tried to stand on your wobbly feet alone when the dragon suddenly turned around to you again to add something to his words, making you flinch as his piercing gaze fell on you especially again. “Make sure you come when I call,” he spoke demandingly, with no room to argue. This was an absolute order, one you wished you could ignore, but it only amplified the fear inside you.

When the door finally closed behind Korekiyo, you collapsed, unable to keep your composure as tears of shock filled your eyes. Gonta sunk to the ground with you. The only comfort he could offer was holding you tightly in his embrace, his head dropping on top of yours. At least for a little bit, you could hide inside his arms, but a million questions kept coming while you tried to calm down. You wished you could just go to bed and sleep, the nightmare finally being over when you opened your eyes again. But Gonta’s warmth reminded you this was no dream, only making you more agitated.

“What do we do now,” Gonta muttered into your hair, and you were so desperate to give him a positive answer, for a moment, you managed to lie to yourself.

“We’ll find a way. Maybe… maybe he’ll just let us go after a bit.”

It was the best you could do, but a lie nonetheless. You didn’t know what would happen, but the only thing you have in this situation was hope. 

Hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as the scenarios playing in your head.

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | four

> series masterlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sexual content, your friends are still extra, cussing / mature language, relationship issues, angst, making out, slight dry humping, you actually act on your hoe-ish thoughts because seokjinnie keeps testing you??

notes: 2nd member involved in this love triangle will be revealed next chapter and it’s actually gonna start getting messy. are you with me? 😈

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish​ @photographic-girl (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

A couple of days have passed and you were only getting more giddy as time passes. It sounds stupid as hell, and sometimes you can't help but curse yourself for having a crush on someone so unattainable. The thrill, though, is what excites you, and knowing that there's a possibility Jin may reciprocate the same feelings. Since he had placed his number in your phone, he had sent you random, occasional 'have a good day!' texts and smiley faces. Maybe it didn't help that he was only fueling the fire by sending you texts like this. You couldn't help but ponder on the thought that you had crossed his mind from time to time, and that my friends, was fucking attractive.

"Her head game was on point." Taehyung smirked and leaned back in his chair, making Ryujin roll her eyes at him.

"You're sick, no one asked about your night."

"Why do you sound so mad, sweetie?" He leaned closer to her.

"I'm not mad." She scooted her chair away from him. "Can you believe this right now?" She shot you a look, but you were too busy texting on your phone, responding to the messages you couldn't get to earlier.

[jin] 3:05pm: I hope your day has been treating you well. See you soon?

[y/n] 5:37pm: Been a little busy, but hasn't been bad. :) Excited for class!

You laughed at yourself because who even says 'Excited for class' like that? You were really playing yourself right now.

"Earth to Mr. Kim's mistress?" You shot Taehyung a look and immediately shoved his face away.

"Jeez, you've been glued to your phone so much lately. Did you find new dick, or something?" Ryujin asked as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

"No, god. I've just been trying to keep myself occupied." She shrugs and doesn't press any further. Thank god, because you hadn't told any of your friends how Jin comforted you that evening and how he had given you his personal number just to check in every now and then. You didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, only because they'd be dramatic about it and you didn't have the energy to calm the chaos that would ensue.

"Speaking of - have you guys started the assignment due next week for Mr. Kim's class?" Jimin kept his eyes on the work in front of him.

"No. I'll probably do that the day of." Taehyung says as he texts on his phone.

"I was going to ask him for help later."

"Were you now?" Jimin rose his eyebrow, shooting you a look.

"Yes, and it's only because I can't choose which topic to write about."

"Why don't you ask us?"

"Because this always ends up being an open-ended debate and the conversation ultimately ends with no decision made." Jimin nodded in agreement.

"Touché."

"Bat your eyelashes while you're at it, kay?" Ryujin giggles.

"You guys are free to join me."

"Mmm no thanks, I don't think I need any help right now." Jimin responds.

"Same. Besides, I'd rather not cockblock."

"Honestly so sick of you guys." You all end up packing your things to head to Jin's classroom, all four of you entering one by one and taking your seats near the front. Class goes by rather quickly, you and Jin stealing glances from time to time. Ryujin, Jimin and Taehyung offer to wait up for you near the library and you simply nod, letting them know you'll only take a quick minute to talk about the assignment. Once they've disappeared from the hallway corridor, you turn on your heels to make your way over to Jin at the front desk, where he's arranging his things and getting them together.

"Y/N, hey." He smiles at you, tilting his head to look at you from his stance. "What's up?"

"I uh, just wanted to ask for your opinion about the assignment. If.. you aren't busy?" He chuckled and shook his head.

"No, not at all. What's going on?"

"Well, I've just been having trouble deciding on a topic." You placed your things down.

"Alright, try me." He nods towards the whiteboard, signaling for you to scribble your ideas onto the board so he could help you map out your thoughts. You quietly walk over, grabbing the only black whiteboard marker available and start talking through your thoughts. He sits on the desk, arms crossed, watching you scribble on the board. He chimes in every now and then, either agreeing or disagreeing, and providing his honest opinion as to what might work best for the assignment.

"Mm, okay. I think that makes better sense." You step back and take a look at the things you've crossed out and circled, leaving you to finalize the topic for your assignment.

"Yeah, I think so." He stands and nods in agreement. You turn to look at him, only to realize how close in proximity your body was to his. His hands are tucked into his pockets while he looks down at you. Both of you don't move, regardless of how close you two are at the moment. You feel stuck, and the only option that crosses your mind is something you shouldn't even be thinking about. Yet, you still act on it. You find yourself on your tippy-toes laying a kiss on his plump lips, but you quickly pull away and gasp, realizing what you had done.

"I-I'm so sorry, I-" You stutter as you step back to try and quickly grab your things. "I gotta go." You dash out of the room, your heart beating through your chest. As soon as you were far as possible from his room, you slowed your pace to gather your breathing. You facepalmed so hard because what the fuck! You felt dumb as hell for acting the way you did, let alone for thinking his texts and all the attention even meant anything.

Way to fucking go, Y/N. You could feel how embarrassing next class will be already.

As soon as you spot your friends, you try to put on a smile and brush the thoughts out of your head when you see them waving you over. Jimin instantly throws his arm around your shoulder, helping you feel at ease as you momentarily forget about the events that just transpired.

"Ready? We're gonna go grab some pizza before heading home." You smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm down."

Jin grabbed his things, feeling a little conflicted about what just happened. He knew this was something that shouldn't have happened, nor should it ever happen again. Yet, he wanted more of this feeling you gave him. He longed for it. He couldn't explain the feeling he got when he felt your lips against his, he just knew he was interested in more. It was bad as fuck, but it was the same thrill you felt that peeked his interest.

Jin pulled into the lot of him and Grace's house, seeing he was the first one home yet again. It wasn't a surprise to him anymore, and quite frankly, he was used to being home first all the time. It would have been a surprise if Grace was here before he was. Not gonna lie, after what happened, it makes him feel a little empty inside. He's starting to feel like he wanted more of you and to see you outside of campus grounds. He wanted your company and enjoyed your presence, inside of the classroom and even through simple things like text. It just made him happy, and like he was appreciated. Wanted.

Yeah, that quick. He was starting to crave you.

He kicked off his shoes by the door and changed into comfier clothes. He took some time to work out at their home gym before eating whatever leftovers were left in the fridge. He happily warms up his food and quickly gobbles it up, leaving the dishes in the sink for him to get to later. He hops into a hot, relaxing shower, letting the heat hit his back and relax him from all the stress he had been experiencing lately. It was so relaxing that he didn't even hear Grace shut their front door. He only found out he wasn't alone when he heard dishes being washed and slammed onto the dish rack and cabinet doors being slammed shut. He dried himself off a bit, before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading into the kitchen to see what the commotion was.

"Hey, you're home." He says with a smile on his face, but she continued to place dishes on the rack without looking at him.

"Yeah, and you couldn't even think to wash your dishes and clean up the kitchen?" His smile immediately turned into a frown when he realized Grace was far from being in a good mood. Over what? Dishes that he was eventually going to wash anyways?

"I was going to get to them."

"Jeez, Jin. I've had such a long day, the least you could do is help out and clean up after yourself." She glared at him.

"Woah, hey. I do my part around here. Just because I didn't do my dishes right away doesn't mean I don't do anything at all under this house."

"Hasn't seemed like it." She walked away, brushing him off completely. If it's one thing Jin could point out about his fiancé, it was the fact that she liked to project when she was upset. It was the one thing that drove him crazy, and the one thing he felt like couldn't be fixed. It was just in her nature, no matter how many times they've fought and argued about it. He tries to be patient and understanding. He tries to relate. Yes, I'm sorry you had a bad day. But just because you had a bad day, doesn't mean you bring the negative energy into this house.

"That's not fair, Grace."

"Grow up, Jin." She snapped as she headed upstairs. "I'm going up to pack and head to bed." He continued to watch her, appalled at the attitude she was throwing tonight. He really couldn't understand why this was happening over some dishes. He didn't wanna be here right now, and he wasn't going to deal with this shit. To be honest, he was feeling a little relieved knowing he'd get some space from her when she flies to New York for a week. She had some work to do for the opening of her restaurant down there, plus some related projects for her book.

He heads upstairs to throw on some jeans, a hoodie and a hat before passing Grace in their walk-in closet.

"Off for a drive again, huh?" She says as she keeps her eyes on the luggage laid out in front of her. It's sad that Grace knows what Jin does whenever he doesn't wanna deal with her attitude. But, no matter how many times he's tried to communicate and talk it out, it never mattered to her.

"Yeah, because it doesn't seem like you can communicate properly tonight."

"And how is a drive supposed to help?" She turns to look at him, but he doesn't say anything. She scoffs before returning her attention back to the clothes she was packing into her luggage. "Perfect. Run away from our issues, Jin. It's what you do best." He shook his head and sighed.

"I'm not doing this with you tonight, Grace. Not over some dishes that were eventually going to get washed and fixed." He walked out, but turned back on his heel to finish off his thoughts. "You know, I really wanted to have a nice night with you. Pop some wine and put on a movie, just to enjoy being in each other's presence since it feels like we haven't done that in a really long time. But, so be it." He threw his hands up in defeat and continued to walk out. He really did want to try, though. Part of him felt like he needed to because he was probably just longing for that attention from his fiancé, which is why he had been feeling the way he had been about you. Maybe it would have helped him brush it off like it was a silly, little crush. However, tonight just amplified those feelings he had for you and he wanted nothing more but to just see you and hear your voice.

He lowers the brim of his cap as he walks to his car, instantly starting it up and driving off. At first, he was conflicted. He wasn't sure if he was making the right decision or not, or if his judgment was cloudy. But something in him tweaked and made him say, fuck it. He was tired, and for once, he just wanted to feel wanted.

You sat on your living room floor, putting together a vision board for yourself. A ton of magazine cut outs and printouts laid alongside of you, waiting to be organized onto the small white board. You had been rearranging the layout for quite some time, feeling a little frustrated at the perfectionist in you. This definitely could have been quicker if you hadn't picked at the fine details too much. It was nearing 10:30pm; after you and your friends had ate pizza together, you all went your separate ways, tired from this week's events already. You especially didn't want to linger around, the thought of you kissing Jin in the classroom still haunting you. You felt your phone vibrating off to the side, signaling a call coming in.

Speak of the devil.

You hesitate, afraid that this had to do with what happened earlier and to be frank, you weren't sure if you were ready to deal with the repercussions just yet. The call ends, but a text notification pops up at the top of your screen.

[jin] 10:27pm: Are you free right now?

[y/n] 10:28pm: Sorry, yeah I am. What's up?

[jin] 10:29pm: Can we meet up?

You stare at your phone, unsure if you should take the opportunity to see him. It could mean a lot of things, or it could mean nothing. It could be about the kiss, or it couldn't be. But, you can't help but feel a little guilty that he had been there for you when you needed someone and here you were, contemplating if you should blow him off.

[y/n] 10:32pm: Sure. Is everything okay?

[jin] 10:32pm: I think, kind of just need some good company.

[y/n] 10:33pm: Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll come. Just let me know where.

You watch as he drops his location into the message, and it's not too far from where you live. You actually are quite familiar with the area to know that he's sending you up to a view that overlooks the Bay Bridge. You and your friends used to go there often during undergrad, just to eat edibles and eat hella junk food. Those were the days. You all quickly outgrew it though.

The drive up is a little scary, with only a few street lights posted as you drive up the hill. You catch a glimpse of Jin's car, being that he's already leaning against it, facing the view. You pull up into the empty spot next it, taking a deep breath and recollecting your thoughts before stepping out. Whatever it is, just be honest. That kiss was because you wanted to kiss him, but perhaps you misread the vibe about everything.

Not perhaps. You for sure misread the vibe about everything. He's fucking engaged. There was no way.

"I brought you brownie." Is the first thing you say as you hand him a ziploc with a huge brownie square. "There's no weed in it or anything, I promise it's clean." He chuckles as he takes it from you. "I just figured you could use a picker upper since you seemed like you might've need it."

"Thank you." His trunk had been open, so he takes a seat and invites you to sit next to him. You leave a bit of space just to be sure, since you already crossed your boundaries earlier and you weren't even sure how that was gonna play in to tonight.

"So, what's on your mind?" You dread asking him the question but you knew there was a reason he brought you out here.

"I, uh. Just had a pretty tough day and wanted to surround myself around good company." He turned to look at you.

"Oh, so I made the good company list?" You chuckle.

"Yeah, you did." He looks back out at the view. You examine him, his body language still a little tense from whatever he had just experienced.

"Was it Grace?" You ask softly and he nods in return.

"We've just been having issues. It's no biggie."

"No biggie, huh? Then why are we out here looking at the bay bridge?" He chuckles again. You think it's cute the way his dimples under his eyes pop out when he smiles and laughs.

"Touché. I mean, what if I just wanted to hang out with someone who could cheer me up?"

"Wow, then that's a lot of pressure on me." You laugh. "I can already tell something's wrong. You were there for me, so I just want you to know that I'm all ears." He sighed.

"It's kind of dumb? Maybe not? Me and Grace just haven't been the same for awhile now."

"How so?"

"We're just distant. We haven't done things together like we used to because we're both busy and so wrapped up with work."

"Jin." You smile shyly because this couldn't be a serious excuse. You always need to try and make things work! "You know being busy shouldn't be an excuse, right?"

"I know, I know." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it's difficult to explain. I question if we're still in love with each other or if we're just sticking to this because we're comfortable."

"Deep down, I know you still love and care for her."

"I do. It's been hard to show that these past months. I guess.. what I'm trying to say is that it's been easy to focus more on the negatives than the positives. There have been more negatives than positives."

"Why don't you sit her down and talk about this?"

"I can't. I try, but I really can't. She's always coming home in a nasty mood all the time."

"Well, she might have a lot to balance on her plate. Not everyone approaches things the same way and if you know Grace easily shuts people out when she's overwhelmed or stressed, then I think you just need to continue supporting her by simply being there for her."

"I know." He looks down at his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just thinking. I hear you loud and clear though." He smiles at you toothlessly.

"Try talking to her. Work it out. I know she's important to you."

"She is but," He shakes his head once more. "I can't shake off this feeling."

"What feeling?"

"It's going to sound stupid."

"Nothing is ever stupid." He simply looked at you before responding.

"Earlier, in the classroom—" Fuck, you thought. You thought you had just gotten lucky tonight and that you both had put it past you so that you could move on without ever mentioning it. But half of you knew you'd still have to confront your mistake either way. Nothing was ever that easy.

"Jin, I'm so sorry, I didn't think about—"

"I didn't want you to stop." He spits out, causing you to stop mid-sentence. Your eyes widened after you had just registered what he had said. Was he fucking playing with you right now? This shit really couldn't be real.

"W-what?"

"I can't shake off this feeling because of you and as bad as it sounds, I really don't want that to go away."

"Jin." You say softly. "You should really work this out with Grace. This feeling is just temporary and you know it is because she's your fiancé. What happened earlier was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened." It kind of sucks, but it's true. You don't really know why you did what you did and what you wanted out of it. You knew what this would entail and it would be too messy. People would just end up getting hurt left and right. It would be a domino effect.

"Was it though?"

"I'm not trying to get in between you two." You beat around the bush with your response.

"Then, what did you want out of that earlier?" He stares at you. You can't help but feel yourself melt at the way he's eyeing you and the way he's actually teasing the fuck out of you with his piercing eyes.

"I don't know." He continues to stare, but this time his face is edging closer to yours.

"You can't even tell me straight up that it was nothing." He says, almost at a whisper. Your knees are starting to buckle beneath you and although you knew you needed to stop this, you couldn't see yourself doing it right at this moment.

"We shouldn't be doing this." You whisper, his lips inches away from yours at this point.

"Then why aren't you stopping me, Y/N?" No response. Before you knew it, your eyes were shut as your lips pressed against his. The feeling of his lips sent chills down your spine, his hand now tugging you closer to his body. You waste no time straddling his lap, deepening the kiss as your hands rest on his face and your hips grind against his. God, he was so fucking attractive and everything about him drove your ass crazy. You wanted him.

But you couldn't have him.

"Stop, stop." You edged your head back, reality settling in once his hands start to dip inside your sweats. "We really shouldn't be doing this." You climb off of him and gather your things.

"Y/N, wait."

"Jin." You turn to look at him. "Listen to me. We would never work."

"I wouldn't say never—"

"Look, this is already difficult as is and I'm trying really hard not to make this even more complicated for anyone. At the end of the day, you're still with Grace. You're still engaged to Grace." You emphasized. "I can't get in between you two, and I don't want to hurt her." How in the fuck did things escalate so quickly? How did we get here?

"I know that, and I know you don't. But you can't tell me that you didn't feel anything just now."

"I'm not saying that I didn't. I did, I-I do." You stuttered on your own words. "But I shouldn't be acting on it and neither should you. You should really focus on working things out in your relationship. I know deep down you love her and want to make this work."

"That's the thing, Y/N. I don't know how else I can make this work with her. I've ran out of options."

"Jin, you planned to marry her! You do understand that you can't just give up on someone like that, especially your future wife."

"As much as I appreciate this and understand where you're coming from, you don't know our relationship."

"I just don't want you to give up on her. I want you to try for her, not just because I told you so." He can see how serious things have turned, and  he knew you were right. This would be complicated. But damn, was he undeniably attracted to you and he loved the feeling he got from all of this.

"I-" He sighs. "You make me feel things that I haven't felt in a long time."

"You have your life planned out already, and so does Grace. You obviously saw a life and a future with her, and that's what you should continue building. I don't even know how to get from point A to point B in life and I still have shit to learn. Like-like changing car lights or how to do a fucking oil change by myself! I'm a mess. I'm not the one you should be thinking about."

"I don't care about that." He spits out as he gently grabs your wrist and turns you to face him.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." With all this shit going on, you still found yourself wanting him the same way you did earlier. Looking at him made you want to do unspeakable things and it didn't help that he gave you the green light to do so.

The temptations.

"I'm not trying to."

"We should really keep our distance from each other, okay? You need to work things out and I'm going to give you the space to do so."

"Fuck, Y/N. I really don't want that."

"I'm sorry." You whisper as you break free from his grip and get back into your car. You hear him groan, causing you to cry to yourself as you drive off and get back home. One mistake turned everything upside down, and now everything was suddenly 10x more complicated than it ever was in the beginning. You couldn't help but curse yourself and blame yourself for letting this happen the way it did.

But shit is done. The mistake happened. There was no taking it back.

You just needed to give him space to get over it, and that would be the end of it. Easy.

Or so you assume.

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~3400

part i.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 10 November, 2019.  2:13 AM.

It’s 2:13 AM when Jeon Jungkook finally finds a match, the familiar in-game sound dragging his attention away from the illuminated screen of his iPhone to the monitor before him.  He studies the SR - 3779 and 3761, respectively - and skims burning eyes across the members on each team.  Four rocks, including himself, and two Masters.

One of them has a strange name - BIGMELON - that he stares at until he's zoning out, trying to make sense of it.  Was his teammate a pervert or just hilarious?

"Good luck and have fun, everyone!"  

Your cheer filters through his headphones crystal clear but he's somehow still surprised, head tilting curiously to the side.  He hadn't expected a girl to be playing Overwatch at quarter past two in the morning.

When there's no response - he notices no one else is in the voice chat, an oddity for such a high ranking game - he takes it upon himself to keep you company.  His username lights up as his finger glides across the ALT key, sleep-worn words breaking the silence.

"Thanks, you too."

Nothing follows until BIGMELON appears once again in the upper left-hand corner of his screen.  You have a nice voice, he thinks.  "Are you sticking with Widow?"

Jungkook takes in the team comp:  Sigma, Hog, Genji, and Lucio.  A little unconventional but not wholly un-doable.  They're on King's Row, too, which is one of his favourite maps.  Balanced enough that people aren't too salty when they get headshot but with enough coverage that he can get clear picks.  

"Should I?"

"If you want."  A pause and your hero slot is filled with Mercy's portrait.  "I can damage boost."

He thinks he can hear the teasing.  It's soft and sweet and a little rough - like you'd just woken up.  

"Who says I need it?"  Comes his immediate response, question chased out of his mouth by a laugh he can't help.  It echoes, filling the quiet of his bedroom.  He hopes you don't take it the wrong way.

"O—kay, Widow main.  We'll see if you get anything from me."

It's an empty threat because you're giggling along with him.  It's distracting in the strangest way.  The sound bounces around in his ears and he can't help but focus on it, realizing belatedly that he's still sitting in spawn as the timer runs down for setting up defence.  

"Are you going to join us?"  You quip, emoting right beside his stationary sniper.  "I didn't queue just to have someone go AFK."  

Mischief colours your words and he laughs again, snorting as he finally presses W.  Two sets of footsteps echo in game and he presses SHIFT once he's hit point - and with just a few seconds left to spare - launching Widowmaker's body onto the balcony overwatching it.  Mercy follows, Guardian Angel carrying her into the air to alight behind the blue-skinned hero.  

As the timer hits 0:01, Jungkook right-clicks, scoping in on the second-floor spawn door.

BOOM.

The kill feed reads DDEOKKOOKI x STRIKER007.

"I guess you didn't need the damage boost."  

He can't help the sound he makes - a marriage between a witch's shriek and a pig's snort.  It leaps out of his mouth, louder than he intends, and he feels equally bad for you and his hyungs.  He's definitely going to get an earful in the morning - or any minute now, when one of them bursts into his room to berate him for being so loud.  "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah."  The way you speak has him grinning from ear to ear, nose scrunching in amusement.  Mercy is flying across the map, healing stream trained on Genji as the cyborg ninja just narrowly misses an errant Hanzo arrow and dashes back to point.  "I'm gonna take care of the rest of our team.  Let me know if you need anything, O' Headshot God."

You're clowning him hard but he knows it's all in good fun.  Still, he likes the nickname and decides to keep it, effectively picking off the attacking team's stealthily half-hidden Junkrat and Ana right after. 

"Show-off!"   

Then he's dinked in the head - health dropping to 30 from the partially-charged shot.  He needs heals like yesterday.

Unfortunately, Lucio is up at choke with the tanks, skating circles around the base of the statue as they hold point.  Jungkook doesn't see you immediately - he’s scanning his screen for your witch skin (of course) - only realizing you've appeared at his side when his health bar begins to climb.  "Try to stay alive, yeah?"

"My bad,"  he drawls, scoping in the same instant the kill feed announces two more enemy deaths. 

There are only a critical Reinhardt and protected Zarya left.  The former falls the moment he drops shield and her bubble doesn't reset in time;  the Russian tank dies in the next instant, his charged shot firing the moment it hits 100%.  

"Thanks for the damage boost."

"Any time."

Then you're gone, off to support the rest of your team again while he grapples onto a different ledge and continues his oppressive gameplay.  He feels a little bad when the opposing team goes double shield tank and swaps their Junkrat for a Pharah.  He feels less so when he's slept out of nowhere. Four seconds feels like an eternity when he’s out in the open - vulnerable as a baby lamb in a den of lions.

"Looks like you're really making them mad."  You'd been relatively quiet when not tending to him - likely because it was only the two of you in voice chat - and he startles when your comment breaks the quiet lofi he has going in the background. 

"I don't know why.  I'm just having fun."  He's lying.  You're laughing.  

"Too much fun, I think."  

"Maybe they should be better."  Jungkook says this like he's commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky - offhand and nonchalant.  It makes your giggles come harder.  He can hear the scratch of your mic as if you've doubled over and it's now pressed into cotton clothing.  He can't help but pat himself on the back.

"Please don't tell me you're going to 'gg ez' them when we're done."

Now he's feigned offense, gasping at the mere thought.  "Of course not.  I'm not that rude!"

"Well, you never know."  You're right.  People could be the worst when it came to online gaming, spewing vitriol and hurling insults the moment their egos were bruised (or inflated). 

"I promise I'm not an asshole."  He's not really sure why he feels the need to make this abundantly clear.  After all, he'd probably never play with you again.  Korea's density of players was just too great - you were just one in hundreds, thousands, millions. 

Still, he smiles when you reassure him you don't think he is.  "I'm just teasing.  You seem nice."

"I am nice."  Spoken in the same instance he lands two consecutive headshots - one on the bouncing, wall-riding enemy Lucio and the other on the momentarily grounded Pharah.  You must see that, because you're mocking him in that dulcet tone of yours, caramel coating words and turning them soft like toffee. 

"Not according to them."  And not that you mind, it seems, because you're damage boosting him as he catches their out-of-position Rein in his sight.  He whoops in triumph, eliciting another bemused sound from you. 

"You know they're going to do everything to counter you when we go on attack."  Which was in sub-one minute, the timer counting down the last thirty seconds of your team's defense. 

"Who says I'm going Widow again?"  

You're scandalized.  "You mean you're not just a filthy Widow main?"

For a moment, Jungkook wonders if this is how his older members feel when he (and Jimin and Taehyung) mercilessly rib them.  He thinks it must be and oh, how the tables have turned.  He decides he doesn't really mind, though.  It's all innocent fun and it's keeping him awake, aided by the cold brew he'd chugged at midnight. 

"Woah - says the Mercy player?"

"Mercy is a respectable support, okay!"

"Sure, e-girl."  

"Take that back!"  How the words explode out of his headphones makes him momentarily worry he might've overstepped but by the way your laughter chases it forward, he knows he hasn't.  You can take it just as well as you can dish it.  

"Okay, okay.  You're a not bad healer."  Because he hasn't died yet and last he checked, neither had your tanks.  Genji had once or twice - to be expected, given his playstyle - and you had, but that was still pretty respectable.

He can practically hear you rolling your eyes.  "Oh, thanks."  

"Any time, BigMelon."  

"That's ‘daebak’ to you, pal."  Had he heard you wrong?

"What'd you say?"  

There's a long pause - he's not sure whether it's for comedic purpose or something else.  You sound muffled on the other end, as if you're repressing sound.  "Because watermelon?  Su-bak?  So big melon is dae-bak?"  Whatever you had stifled earlier disappears, torn away by the pride that shines bright yellow and boisterous in your peals of laughter.

It's such a bad joke that Jungkook feels like he's about to have an aneurysm.  Were you Jin moonlighting as a Master support player? 

"You're kidding me."  He wonders if you hear him above your own glee, giggles making it hard for him to hear himself think.  "What're you - a dad?"

You scoff now, parroting his words back to him.  "What're you - the pun police?"  

Another one?

He briefly considers ALT + F4-ing his way out of this match and away from your corniness.  Considers it but ultimately decides against it, instead remaining stoically silent and choosing McCree when the hero selection screen slides into place.  His silence will surely speak volumes.  

"You know that was funny!"  By the way he can practically hear your pout - it's endearing, much to his chagrin - he thinks you know where he stands.  

"Not the word I'd use."

"You just have bad taste, McCree."  You say it scathingly yet full of mirth, a sniff punctuating the end of your rebuttal. 

"Do not!"  He returns, just as quickly.  

"Prove it.  Laugh at my joke!"  You're shameless, confident, reassured - it makes him chuckle.  

You take it as his surrender though, your own laughter blending seamlessly with his.  It goes on for longer than is strictly speaking necessary, crowding like cotton balls in his ears as you leave sprays of your hero - Ana this time - across the spawn walls.  He wrecks every one of yours with his own, BAMF displayed in 1440p. 

"Hey - stop that!"  It doesn't matter that the round is about to start - you're spamming your melee button into him.  He immediately does it back, toggling between that and his voice line. 

The rest of your team is probably wondering what the hell you're both doing.  

"Stop distracting me!"  He barks into his mic, deep dimples on full display, nose scrunched adorably.  He doesn't really mind - it's clear by his hyena cackles that follow - and he likes when your chorus of shut up's pitch and leap with your giggling. 

As he navigates McCree out behind your tanks, he can't help but wish - maybe a little selfishly - that they'll lose this round and go into a best of three.  When the opposing team's healers both die - one to Ashe's dynamite and the other to Zarya's high-charged beam - he knows that's not going to happen.  Your team's going to cap point and then you're going to be gone - off to the next game and never to be matched with again.

"We did it, McCree."  You sound deeply pleased as the last of the defenders fall, leaving point uncontested.  The Lucio on your team lingers by the choke, ready to boop any last minute hoodlums;  Echo hovers just above the enemy’s spawn, dealing damage the moment any hero comes in view.  One of your tanks is already emoting.

VICTORY flashes across his screen.  

"We sure did, BigMelon."

The cards come next - they're all for your team, though he isn't surprised.  You'd gotten 37 defensive assists whereas he had 27% Infra-Sight uptime.  He's sure you both vote for each other, the remaining four going to your other support's Sound Barrier casts.  

"Thanks for the carry."  He doesn't mean it facetiously.  This is some of the most fun he's had in-game in ages.

"You're welcome,"  you chirp.  He thinks you'll leave right after.

Instead, you both sit in voice chat in silence, watching the timer in the upper right-hand corner. 

"Do you want to duo?"  You ask in the same instance he does, breaking the both of you into a fit of laughter.  It's more distracting than he realizes, the FINDING MATCH countdown replacing the end game statistics while you’re both still cackling.

Luckily, you invite him to a group right as he removes himself from queue.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Tuesday, 24 December, 2019.  11 PM.

It’s six weeks and a good three dozen games later - a feat for him, considering how much of his time is eaten up by literally every other obligation he has - when he asks for your name, not realizing the consequences of his action.  

“Most people call me Jinny.”  He thinks it fits you, bright and pretty and punchy.  “What’s your name?”

Jungkook's unprepared for the question, though he shouldn’t be.  Of course you’d want to know.  Anyone would, if they’d already given their own answer.

He's silent for the longest time, quiet stretching on and on over group voice chat.  He applauds you for your patience, how you don't press him on it when the hesitation has descended from appropriate to downright awkward.

"Uh."  The word drops like a weight, crashing through the tentative friendship you've built over the past weeks.  

"You don't have to tell me,"  you supply as softly as he's ever heard you.  It's the first time you've seemed uncertain - and it bothers him that he's the reason.  "I get that we haven't known each other that long."  

As if that's actually the issue.  He would've told you the night you spent four hours together, taking wins left and right, filling the time in between matches with silly banter that had his jaw aching from laughter.  He would’ve told you on that random Thursday, when you’d listened to him talk about his busy day, effortlessly keeping him occupied - and amused - while your SR nearly descended below 3500.  He would’ve even told you yesterday, when you’d said you were going to bed, only to be roped into another six games by Jungkook’s eagerness.

It has absolutely nothing to do with time - or the lack thereof.

But he can't say that - can't tell you who he really is - so he improvises as best he can.  "My friends call me Jay."

"Jay, huh?"  You turn the sound over on your tongue, like you're tasting it for the first time, trying to decide whether you love it or hate it.  He hopes you don’t hate it.  "Then I guess we're the best J-duo to ever exist."

"Woah, we?"  He's only doing it to rile you up, finding it cute when you huff and puff and threaten to let him die in-game.  You never make good on the threat anyway;  you just like to see him sweat, watching as his health bar drops to measly single digits.  "I don't think I agreed to that."  

It's your turn to mock him, that same edge turning your words into sour candy.  "Fine.  You can find yourself a new healer.  We'll see how your SR likes that, Bronzie boy!"  

Neither of you really take the game that seriously but he gasps like he's been shot.  

"No!  Don't leave me with them!"  The way he howls the plea is enough to return you both to your rightful place - one filled with boisterous laughter and things he never thought would see the light of day.

Because somehow, he's found somewhere he feels safe - a place he feels like himself, with no pretenses or expectations.  It’s where he can rant and rave, bouncing from topic to topic like an energizer bunny with no end in sight.  It’s, oddly enough, with you.  

Connected through voice chat and built by an endless stream of communication - sometimes productive, other times not - the space you’ve carved out together has come to feel like a third home.  It isn’t quite what he has with his family or his members but it’s just as nice.

Different, but nice.

"Fine.  You're forgiven."  You sniff in that peculiar way of yours and he snickers loudly.  "How was your day?"

And this is why it is - because it's ordinary.  It’s where Jungkook can rest his head and drift for a while without worry of what’s over the horizon, ready to swallow him whole the moment he takes his eyes off the calm blue sea.  He's not raised on a pedestal with you, all the weight of his choices resting on his shoulders.  He's just a normal guy playing games.  

It might not make up for all the years of normalcy he's missed out on - the movies after school, the street markets on weekends, the holiday parties with classmates - but it's enough.  

He eats it up like he's been starved of it.

"Busy.  Really busy.  I had dance practice all afternoon and forgot to eat so I'm dying now."  There'd been a time - about three weeks in - when he'd chosen his words more carefully.  He'd been worried he might let something slip but he's found what feels like the sweet spot now, where he can tell you about his day without thinking he’ll suddenly shatter the image you have of him.

It's not always easy - he has to remember to never mention names or intimate details - but it's better than nothing.  He can finally tell someone about his day like he wants - all of the good and the bad, too.

"You should make something to eat!"

He's used to your reprimands but he still laughs, crossing his long legs beneath him as he readjusts in his computer chair.  "But we're in queue."

"Jay!"  It comes out devoid of static, clear as the waning sunshine that filters through his blinds and reflects particles of dust that drift lazily through his bedroom.

"I'll make something after we win."  He knows what you're thinking - that he's gone and jinxed your whole night.  You’re weirdly superstitious, something he's learned only recently.

As if right on cue:  "Shut up!"  

Your words sweep his expression up with glee and giddiness, like a kid on Christmas morning;  lines dig themselves into the bridge of his nose and the delicate skin beneath his eyes.  Jungkook tells himself it’s the usual pre-game jitters but he knows it’s more than that.  

It’s you and that infectious giggle that careens through his headphones, making him see everything in a pretty haze of warmth.

He’s not sure when you’d started having this particular effect on him - maybe since the beginning? - but he feels it now, clearer than ever.  Every tinkling laugh makes his heart speed up, thump around his chest like a baseball missing its mark.  The sight of you logging in elicits the biggest, possibly dorkiest smile, all slightly too-big front teeth and deep dimples.  You have him rushing through his post-practice showers and devouring dinner in half the time he usually would just to get online a minute more quickly.  

There's just something about you. 

And sure - a part of him wonders whether it's all in his head (as if it could be anywhere else).  Wonders if he's seeing you through rose-tinted glasses, doing to you what so many do to him.  Was he in over his head, praying to a deity that didn't even know he existed?  

Sometimes it felt that way - a little out of reach, like childhood crushes and summer love and wishing upon a star.  Certainly far too much for a blossoming friendship of just a month and a half.  

But then you laugh and it's Pop Rocks fizzling in his stomach and he knows that no - it's there and it's real.

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met. 

notes.  i love overwatch and i love jeon jeongguk.  what more can i say?  :)

[jawritter]

I Hurt Too

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Implied smut, domestic violence? Angry Dean, Hurt!Dean, Jealous!Dean, Language, hurt feelings, angst, some fluff. Multiple view points.

Word Count: 6136

Request: hi there! I have seen loads of fics and one shots where Dean is sleeping around/having a one night stand and the reader gets jealous and upset, but I was wondering if I could request one with the other way around? or maybe one where they sleep around equally? as smutty, fluffy, or angst as you want!!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

Dean’s POV:

The concert floor of the bunker was cold under Dean’s feet as he swung his legs off of the bed, and placed his feet gingerly on the floor. He was being very mindful of the injury to his knees that he got during the last hunt. It protested with every movement, and being in his forties now, it seemed he didn’t heal up as quickly as he used to. 

Standing with a deep growl, Dean stretched the muscles that protested against his movements, his eyes wandering over the empty liquor bottle that was sitting on his nightstand. He let out a long sigh, and picked up the bottle, throwing it in the trash can by the door as he hobbled his way out of his room, and towards the kitchen in search of coffee. 

Dean’s feet dragging along the empty hallways of the Bunker seemed to echo more than they usually did in the morning. Sammy had either still been asleep, as it was really, really early; or he was already on his run. Y/N must have still been out with a conquest from the night before, because he’d been up most of the night, and she still hadn’t made it home by the time he finally drank enough to pass out, and ignore the throbbing pain in his knee. 

As he made his way closer to her room, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the door open just a little, and peeking inside to see if she’d actually came home, or if she was still out with whatever bar room wonder she let take her home last night that wasn’t him. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her body covered up in the pile of covers that she always kept on her bed. Her back was to the door, and the easy rise and fall of the covers told him she was still fast asleep, so he shut the door quietly behind him, and continued his way towards the kitchen.

Normally he would have been right there with her  at the bar last night. It had been a successful hunt, other than his busted knee, and that was due to his own clumsiness, and nothing really to do with a monster. He knew the stairs were rotten, and that he should have been taking them slower than he was, but Sammy was out running him, and that looked bad. He didn’t want to look weak in front of Y/N, so he rushed up the stairs, and as he got to  the middle of the old rotten staircase, it had given way under his weight, sending his leg through the wood, and pulling his knee pretty good. 

His adrenaline was high at the time, chasing the Werewolf through the old abandoned house, so he  hadn’t really paid the injury much attention. He just jerked it out of the hole he’d fallen through, and continued his chase. Ultimately, Sam had successfully killed the Werewolf before he got there. 

Three hours into the drive back to the Bunker though, he felt it, and by the time he’d gotten home and put Baby in park, he could hardly put any weight on it.

Y/N fussed over him as he hobbled his way to his room, but Dean wanted nothing more than to get his jeans off, and put on a pair of loose sweats. Again, he refused to show how hurt he actually was in an attempt not to look weak, even though she could clearly see him limping. 

She’d offered to stay back at the Bunker last night, and binge watch Dr. Sexy with him instead of going out to the local watering hole, but Dean had told her to go ahead and go. He didn’t want to hold her back from having a good time by making her stay here with him. 

After about an hour of bickering, she had agreed to let him stay behind, and she went out on her own. 

He wanted to just get drunk, and pass out, but his mind wouldn’t let him do that right away, and getting drunk enough to black out wasn’t as easy as it used to be for him. So instead, he lay there alone in his dark room, picturing things he wished he wasn’t. 

Some strangers hands on the body he wanted more than anything to hold against his. Some random sinking into her in a way that he wished only he was allowed to do. His mouth on hers as their bodies moved together.

Would she moan for him? Would he be able to give her what she needed? Would he hold her when it was all over, the way Dean wanted so badly to do, but was never able to shove down his own stubbornness, and tell her how he felt. Instead, he justified his actions by saying, “she’s safer not knowing how I feel,” or “they can’t hurt because of me, if no one knows,” but deep down he felt like his heart was being ripped out every time he saw her on someone else’s arm. 

Dean poured his coffee, and sat down at the table in the kitchen with a huff, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling the short strands hard enough to feel the sting in an attempt to pull the images that were threatening to invade his mind out before they could hurt him further. The only thing he knew to do at this point in order to save his sanity was to push her away. Maybe if he did that, then it wouldn’t hurt so bad. 

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Your POV: Two weeks later

You  dry your hair roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper by the door, and pull it into a messy bun as you make your way towards the kitchen in search of coffee. It was early, and Dean wouldn’t be up for probably another hour. You were sure Sam was out on his morning run, and  he had mentioned something last night about going on a supply run before the next case. 

You’d all been working non stop for weeks. Local cases. Things that normally would  be overlooked, but Dean was insistent on staying busy. You didn’t know why, but Dean had been acting really strange since he’d hurt his knee on that hunt in Wichita Falls. 

It had started when he’d refused to speak to you all day the next day. Then it progressively got worse, and now he walked around acting like you didn’t exist, going as far as to hand Sam his rabbit food last night, but not even handing you your burger, just getting his food out of the bag, then throwing it on the table for you to find for yourself. 

He wasn’t even communicating with you during hunts, which made things that much more difficult and dangerous. When you finally got back to the Bunker this morning, you were well planning to go blow off some steam, and get away from this new Dean that you were learning you didn’t like so much.

At first it had really hurt  that Dean had started to treat you so badly. You had always liked Dean more than just a “big brother” or friend, the way you saw Sam. The two of you were close at one time. 

You didn’t know what had caused the switch. You’d gone over and over it  in your head, but you couldn't figure out what you had done to him in order to turn him against you. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d get him to actually tell you what you had done wrong. So you thought at first it would pass, not get worse. 

Making your way over to your dresser  you pull out a simple black tank top, and a short denim skirt. It wasn’t like you were planning to ‘keep them on all night’, you just wanted them to catch the attention you needed in order to get what you desired tonight, and they had never failed you yet. 

Before you could even turn around to grab your hair brush off the desk in your room, you hear a curse, and a fumbling noise behind you before your door closes. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you walk over to the door, and open it, seeing Dean’s back retreating to his room, before his door slams with enough force to knock dust down from the ceiling. 

Looking down at your feet you see a busted whiskey glass, and a good amount of amber liquid still on the floor. Your eyes evert back to the door that Dean had just disappeared behind, and then down to the mess.. 

You must have left the door open when you had come into the room, but why would Dean be so upset if he saw you about to get ready to go out? Hell, he does it as much as you. The whole motel  knew his name was Dean Fucking Winchester  thanks to the whore he’d brought back last night, and her impressive vocal range.

Grabbing the discarded towel you’d just used to dry your hair, you clean up the mess caused by the spilled liquor, your mind still wondering just what you had done so fucking wrong. 

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

Four hours later you tried to close the heavy door to the Bunker as quietly as you could as you snuck back inside. Sure, it was past midnight, but you also knew that Dean could be somewhat of a night owl, and you really didn’t want to have a run in with him coming home from yet another one night stand. Especially after whatever the fuck happened outside your bedroom door before you left tonight. 

You had wanted to confront him, ask him if something was wrong, but the way he’d been treating you kept you at bay and you just decided to go on about your business, and leave Dean to whatever brooding he was doing. 

The Bunker was dark, all but the kitchen light that seemed to stay on all the time, and a weak light that illuminated from the map table in the war room as you descended the stairs. You spilled your shoes off at the top of the iron staircase in order to make your footsteps lighter as you went. 

You didn’t see the man sitting at the table in the dark library until he spoke just as you made your way to the mouth of the hallway, and when you heard his voice you nearly had a mini heart attack. 

“You’re  home early,” Dean said, flipping the lamp on, revealing himself in the back corner of the library. 

“Fuck Dean! You scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, turning on your heels to face him fully. 

Dean rose from his seat and staggered a little, grabbing the table for support as he swayed slightly on his feet. You had only seen Dean that drunk once. It was the night he’d been cured from being a Demon. After Sam had gone to bed, the two you stayed up all night long drinking because you were too afraid to leave him alone. It was close to five in the morning before he’d finally passed out. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he made his way closer to you, using the tables as support.

“Dean, you need to go sleep that off,” you tell him, taking a tentative step closer to him. You didn’t know what was bothering Dean exactly, but whatever it was it must be big for him to let himself go this way.

“Fuck you.You don’t get to tell me what to do. I didn’t tell you not to go fuck that loser bartender again tonight did I? Fuck no, but you whored yourself up, and marched that perky little ass of your right into his car to do God knows what. I never knew you were so fucking easy Y/N.”

His words cut deep. Dean had never spoken to you like that, and the fact that the first thing he’d said to you in days was an insult was a huge kick in the gut. Taking a step back from him, you turn to head towards your room. You hadn’t gotten very far before Dean caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, pressing your back against the wall harshly. 

“I wasn’t fucking done with you,” Dean snarled, and you slapped him hard across the face. Tears burned in your eyes at his hurtful behavior not only tonight, but over the last two weeks . 

“What’s your fucking problem Dean? What have I done to you that’s offended you so much? For weeks now you’ve been  a douche to me, and I have no idea what I’ve done to you!” you yell at him, all thoughts of not waking up Sam gone right out of the window. 

“What’s my fucking problem? Maybe it’s you. Spreading your legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that pays you a little attention,” Dean said, coming closer to you and shoving you backwards, his words getting louder and louder with each step he took. 

Sam burst out of his bedroom door as soon as he heard the two of you, jumping in between you and Dean to stop his brother, who was so mad that he was honestly frightening. 

“What the fuck is the problem!” Sam bellowed at the two of you. 

“She’s the fucking problem,” Dean said, pointing an unsteady finger at you accusingly. “She thinks it’s okay to jump in bed with every fucking ass hole in Lebanon after every fucking hunt like she’s getting fucking paid for it!” 

“Fuck you Winchester! You do the same fucking shit! You have no room to judge me for what I do with my free time because I sure as fuck haven’t judged you!” you scream at him, tears slipping down your face and a heaviness pooling deep in your chest. 

“Excuse me? I’ve been with one woman in months compared to your six fucking men in a month!” Dean said, trying to sidestep his brother, but Sam’s long arms shot out and stopped him before he could move towards you. “Do you not care that one night one of these assholes can knock you up? Kill you, before you can get away from them? Hunting monsters, and fighting off perverts are two different fucking things Y/N!”

“Don’t act like you're all concerned about me Dean! Nice fucking double standards. You think because I’m a woman that I can’t handle myself, and that I’m a whore for doing the same exact shit you do!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roared, making even Sam jump as he tried to hold his brother back. Dean’s face was red,  his glossy eyes wide and dilated with anger. You had never seen Dean so angry, and you even took a hurried step back, stumbling into the library as Dean shoved Sam to the side and marched towards you. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BUNKER! IF YOU CARE SO FUCKING LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF, THEN YOU CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I CAN’T WATCH YOU FALL IN BED WITH ONE MORE ASS HOLE!!!” 

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, crossing the floor and grabbing his arm as you sank into the chair behind you hiccuping a sob as Dean towered over you. 

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean, throwing him against the wall with a hard shove. “Get your ass to your room, and sleep it off! Now! Y/N, you stay right the fuck there!” Sam said as he shoved the very livid eldest Winchester towards his room, making sure he was in there before coming back to find you still sitting in the same seat, to shocked and heartbroken to move. 

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as if it could hold you together, when all you wanted to do was fall apart. You never thought Dean would talk to you that way. Sure, he’d been pushing you away and being an ass for the last couple of weeks, but you never dreamed that he hated you. You never knew that he thought you no better than a whore. Now you had lost the only home you’d ever known since your Uncle Bobby had passed away.

You were shaking slightly when Sam pulled up a chair across from you, and sat down with a flop. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, reaching out and placing a large hand over your knee. You flinch at the contact. Only God knows what the hell Dean would do if he came in here and saw that. 

“Not really Sam, I’ll get my shit packed,” you said, attempting to stand up, but Sam's hand coming down heavy on your shoulder stopped you. 

“No you're not. He’s just druck, and jealous, Y/N. When he sobers  up in the morning he’s going to feel horrible about the way he treated you tonight…”

“How the fuck can you know that Sam, he seemed pretty sure. Hell, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts right? He seemed pretty sure in his decision, and I doubt he will regret a word of it. Besides, that did not sound ‘jealous’ to me one bit. He sounded disgusted, and angry,” you cut in. stopping Sam from defending Dean again.

“Y/N, I know my brother better than he knows himself most of the time. He’s not angry. He’s hurting, and he’s jealous. He’s been crazy about you from the moment you moved in here, and you won't even give him the time of day.”

You scoffed at Sam, rolling your eyes as you wiped the tears from your face harshly. Your heart felt like it just wanted to stop beating, and you really didn’t feel like being led on by Sam, and given false hope that Dean had feelings for you at all that weren’t discussed just so you would stay.

“Sam, your brother does not like me. Period. How could he be jealous, or hurt, just because I do the same thing I’ve seen him do for years.” 

Sam ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh. 

“You really don’t see it do you? Think about it Y/N, other than that one blonde a week ago, when was the last time you saw him take a girl home? That was the first one since you moved in  almost four months ago.” 

You search your brain, trying to remember. You hadn’t been paying that much attention. You thought because of all he’d been through he was just going through a dry spell, and when you heard him and that girl, you assumed he was getting back to his usual self. 

Sure, you hated to see Dean with other women, but you weren’t dumb enough to ever think that you would even be on his radar. 

“The only reason he brought that girl back to the hotel was because he got upset when he saw you with that bouncer who was about 10 years younger than him. It hurt his ego. He’d been buying you drinks all night, he’d even paid for a separate  hotel room separate  because he thought, just maybe you’d see how much he was into you, and go home with him.”

You look at Sam, your head full of doubt. Dean’s words were still ringing  loudly in your head, and you wanted nothing more than to get away from here so that you could cry it out. 

“Just let him sober up. If things are still tense in the morning, then you can take off to Jody’s for a few days. I know she wouldn’t mind, but if you are gone when he sobers up, and remembers what the fuck he did to you it’s gonna crush him.”

You let out a deep breath as you looked around the still dark Bunker with a heavy feeling in your chest. Your body started to feel exhausted as the adrenaline from your fight with Dean started to wane. You knew it was late, and if you left right now you’d never even make it to a hotel room. You were just that tired. You weren’t in the right mindset to drive, so you nodded your head in agreement. Walking to your room with your feet dragging, you fell face down your bed, and let the tears flow freely as your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Dean’s voice  still louder than Sam’s in your head. 

You had been  in love with him since you were 16 years old.You even patterned your life after his. He was your hero. The man all girls dreamed about, and he hated you, and it was all your fault. 

You were so upset that you didn’t hear Dean sobbing into his pillow in his room as you passed to head to yours, or see Sam go and sit outside of his brother’s door with his back to it, listening to his older brother, his rock, his best friend fall apart, all because he was too stubborn, and too hurt to tell the woman he was so deeply in love with just how he felt. 

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Dean’s POV: 

Dean rolled around in his bed with a groan, taking a deep breath through his nose in an effort to stave off the wave of nausea that seemed to hit him as soon as he woke up this morning. He could still taste the liquor, and the scent of it seemed to be seeping out of his every pore, making his weak stomach churn in protest. 

He struggled to remember the last time he’d gotten that drunk, and honestly it was all a bit foggy. It made his head hurt, so he stopped thinking, and pulled himself sluggishly to his feet.stopping for only a moment to lean against his door. 

Physically he felt like shit, but emotionally he was a wreck, worse than he’d been even with his mom had died, worse than he’d been when he lost John. His actions last night played over and over in front of his face like a broken record, and he didn’t want to face that fact that he’d run you out, and hurt you. The look on your face was stuck in his mind. Tears streaming down your face, complete with utter terror of what he might do to you. 

He didn’t realize what he was doing until Sam locked him in his room. It was like he was acting on autopilot and he couldn’t stop. All the bottled up emotions came rolling to the surface, and he never thought he’d snap like that. He’d never forgive himself. 

Stumbling to the small sink in his room, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in days. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles. His complexion was paler than he’d ever seen it, even when he had the mark. His cheeks even looked a little sunk in. Had he lost weight? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten . He’d been too busy drinking.

Dean splashed his face with water, rubbing harshly as if he could wipe away what he’d done, even though he knew he never could. When he could stand up without holding onto something, he made his way slowly towards the kitchen, hoping if he could eat something and keep it down then the sick feeling would go away and he could figure out what he needed to do to fix what he’d broken. If he couldn’t fix it, well then it was time to check out, because he couldn’t live knowing he’d hurt you. 

He was thinking a big game there, cause he knew he’d never be able to leave Sammy behind, but the hurt was that deep, and he’d be lying if he said he knew how to deal with this in a healthy way, and there was always the possibility that he drank himself to death. He was pretty sure he was on his way to doing just that. 

As soon as his feet hit the kitchen floor, and he looked up he saw you and Sam sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. For just a moment no one spoke, and no one moved. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye this morning, instead becoming very interested in your coffee cup. 

Dean mumbled something that was meant to sound like ‘sorry’, but came out as just an incoherent noise as he turned on his heels to head back to his room, and give you space. The relief he felt that you were still here somehow diminished as soon as he saw the hurt look on your face. 

“Dean, wait up a second,” Sam said, standing up from the table, and making his way towards Dean who even though he’d stopped in the hallway, he’d been unable to turn around and face you again. 

“Come on Dean, we all need to have a talk about…”

“We don’t need to talk about shit Sam! I was a fucking asshole, and now Y/N can’t even look me in the eye! What is there left to talk about? This is my fucking fault!”

Sam had no argument there, and he knew it, so Dean shrugged away from his brother’s hand that was resting on his shoulder, and made his way to his room to start drinking again, because that’s all he seemed to be able to do right anymore.

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

Your POV:

It was all you could do to stand rooted to the floor as you watched Dean stumble back down the hallway towards his room. You’d cried so much last night and this morning that you had nothing else left in you to cry. You didn’t think your heart could break more than it already was, but here you were,  trying to catch your breath as Dean disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him. 

Sam turned to you, and let out a long sigh,shrugging and shaking his head before finally making eye contact with you.

“I can’t do this. The two of you are gonna have to work this out for yourselves. I know what he did last night was hurtful, and borderline abusive, but if you can’t see he’s hurting then you're blind. I can’t make you talk to him, but I can tell you that if you let this fester then it’s just gonna get worse and worse. Dean thrives on self loathing. You know it’s not just something he can forget. He’s gonna torture himself until there is nothing left.”

Sam brushed past you and into the kitchen without even giving you a chance to make your argument. Which at this point there was really no argument to make. You saw it yourself first hand just now. Dean looked terrible, and not just hung over. He’d cried so much that his eyes were almost swollen shut, and you had only seen Dean cry a handful of times. 

You stood there for a long time staring in the direction of Dean's room before your feet finally started to move. With every step you took towards his door, your hands were starting to shake, and your stomach twisted nervously.

There were several ways this could go. He could either slam the door in your face, ask you to leave, ignore you, or attack you. After last night you weren’t so sure about the last one, but he was sober this time.  Hopefully that was just a drunken mistake meant to scare you, and that's all. 

When you reached his door, you took a shaky breath already regretting the decision to talk to Dean, and you hadn’t even knocked on the door yet. 

You hadn’t realized how much you cared about Dean until what happened between you last night. It was always just something you shoved down, and refused to acknowledge. Now it was all you could see. You had been in love with him from the moment he’d popped out of the backseat of what at the time was John Winchester’s Impala when you  16 years old. 

You reached up to knock on the door, but before your hand could even make contact with it you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. Panic twisted in your gut, overriding the nerves, and you shoved the door open to Dean’s room, your hunter instincts screaming something was horribly wrong, and you had to get to Dean. 

When you saw him he was standing at the sink, surrounded by glass, watching the blood drip from his still clenched fist. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his eyes were distant as if he didn’t even really feel it. 

“Dean,” you breathed out, and he turned to you slowly, looking at you, then down at the mess on the floor as well as his hand. 

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I…” Dean bent down in an attempt to pick up the shattered glass , but you made your way over to him and stopped him, gently grabbing his hand and looking at the heavily bleeding wound.  He didn’t stop you, just stood there with his eyes searching your face. 

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll text Sam, and he can clean up the glass while I stitch up your hand and get this glass out of your knuckles.” 

He didn’t fight you as you led him to the infirmary, and sat him down in one of the chairs. He never even flinched as you took tweezers to his knuckles to pull out the glass, or when you sterilized the wound before stitching up the large cut on the back of his hand. His eyes stayed on your face as you worked, and you could feel him watching you, but you had to concentrate on his hand in order to not hurt him further as you wrapped it carefully.

When you went to stand up to put away the medical supplies, Dean caught your hand with his good one, stopping you in your tracks as he stood to his feet in front of you. 

His movements were slow. Like if he moved too fast he’d scare you. For some reason, even though a normal person would have been terrified after his behavior last night, you weren’t even remotely afraid of him.

You’d faced evil. You’d face monsters. He was none of that. 

“Y/N, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything after the way I treated you last night, but I’m sorry. I let my emotions get in the way. I was drunk. I don’t know why I pushed you, but I should have never laid a hand on you. I just… It hurt so much knowing you were out with another guy like always, and that I would never be good enough for you, and… I’m sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on.” 

Dean turned to leave, but you grabbed his uninjured hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Dean, stop running from me. You don’t get to say something like that, and then walk away, and go hide, or drink yourself to death! Who the fuck said you weren’t good enough for me? Cause that’s bullshit! Dean, if any one of us isn’t good enough it’s me! You’re a fucking hero! I’m just another hunter riding off the Winchesters. I probably should have left a long time ago. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were even  remotely interested in me. If I’d have known I would have never gone out with any of those other losers.” 

Dean froze on the spot, his green eyes piercing your own like they could see into your soul. You knew Dean, you’d known Dean for years, and you knew if anyone was going to move first it had to be you. There was a time before he’d gone to Hell, become a fucking knight of hell, spent time in purgitory, and had person after person ripped away from him that he would have made the first move, but Dean was different. That cocky Winchester that strutted into Bobby’s house all those years ago for the first time, flirting with everyone that claimed to be a woman, died a long time ago, and you knew this was your only opportunity. If you fucked this up, there would be no other chance with him.

In a bold move that you were pretty sure if you had to do it twice you’d never have made it, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. At first he stood there in a state of shock. It didn’t take him long to slip his good arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

When the two of you finally broke away, you grabbed Dean by the hand and led him to your room. You text Sam when you got there, and asked him if he could clean up the glass in Dean’s room, letting him know you have him taken care of before slipping you both inside, and locking the door. 

Dean guided the two of you over to the bed, and you both moved under the covers in the dark room. The only light is the dim light that's shining on your bedside table from the old lamp.  

Sliding closer to him, you let Dean slip his arms around you before his lips find yours again in a kiss that almost feels scared. You brush your hands through his tousled hair as you wait for him to relax.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Deans said, his eyes searching you for any hint of hesitation. 

This was a line the two of you had never crossed, and uncharted territory in the line of work the two of you did was a scary thing when it comes to people you care about. So much could happen. There were so many liabilities, but you couldn’t live without him, and he obviously had gotten to the point where he couldn’t live without you. So here you were. 

“I’m scared too Dean, but I’m willing to try,” you tell him, placing your hand on the side of his face, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathers his emotions. Trying to make sense of it all. 

No, you weren’t supposed to have this, no, you weren’t supposed to have a happily ever after. This life was a bitch, and you were both  far from perfect. Some of the shit you’d seen  had affected you greatly, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. You couldn’t even imagine the scars that Dean carried that no one could see. He’d gone through, and lost so much more than you even know about. People tend to forget even the people that save the world hurt too. 

The hurt you’d caused each other wouldn’t fade away overnight. It would take years of building trust again, and it would take time just being together, if you had that, you’d take whatever you had.In this life, tomorrow was definitely never promised. 

Tonight though, a little bit of the loneliness disappeared as clothes started to hit the floor.As his mouth explored your own, before tentatively wondering it’s way over your body. As your hands explored his body, running over every visible mark on his skin, leaving little goose bumps in their wake. As he slid himself inside of you, two marred and twisted souls became one. . That piece of the puzzled you’d been missing all your life finally fitting together. 

The moving, pressing, touching, the rise and fall as your bodies drove each other slowly towards what can only be described as pure ecstasy, something you’d ever experienced with anyone you’d ever been with, because there was love there, where before there was nothing but a void. Two scared and wounded hearts beat as one for the first time. It was going to be a slow, and careful thing. Fragile. As you fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, you were confident if you died right then in that moment, it was as close to heaven as you’d ever get. You’d get there together,however long you had, because now there was nothing left in the way. He was yours, and you were his, and that’s the way it was always going to be.

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