#and what's with this thing they landed on and broke?

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 31: "I've got you"

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Imagining Spencer as the unit chief drives me feral, and this is kinda hurt/comfort, but I hope you like it.

I'm sorry it's been a few more days, but I needed a break from everything urgently. Anyway, here it is! Thanks for making it this far, see you next year ;)

For weeks, Spencer Reid had been temporarily filling the role of unit chief. He still felt a bit uncomfortable in this position, more accustomed to contributing his knowledge than leading. However, with each new case, his responsibility towards the team—and especially towards you—became clearer. He wasn’t just your mentor in an academic sense, but also in a professional one, and he felt a connection that went beyond mere work. Spencer had become someone who wanted to protect you, not just guide you.

That’s why, when the preliminary analysis of the case indicated that the victim they had just found at the crime scene was someone close to you, he felt an uncontrollable urge to keep you away from that situation. He remembered all too well what it felt like to lose someone dear in such a violent way and didn’t want you to have to face that same shattering reality.

You were already walking toward the yellow tape, ready to help decipher the modus operandi of the killer you were chasing, when he quickly approached you, his expression grave and full of concern. He wasn’t going to give you the chance to resist; he had decided that the best course of action was to pull you back, to shield you from the pain before it was too late.

“You’re off this case,” he said firmly, his voice carrying an authority he rarely used with you.

“What? Why?” you protested, frowning. “Why are you asking me this, Reid? Do you think I can’t handle it?”

He shook his head, his face serious, his gaze trying to persuade you without words. The idea of letting you see that was unbearable to him. He already knew it wasn’t a guess; it was a hard truth, difficult to digest and even harder to accept. He felt his fingers tense, his hands fighting the urge to physically hold your shoulders, to restrain you with the strength he needed to keep you from facing that devastating sight.

“Listen to me. This isn’t something you should see. The victim… it’s someone you know.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to process what you had just heard. The air grew thick, your breathing heavier as a wave of disbelief and fear began to take hold. Yet, you resisted. Ignoring his words, you pulled away from his side in a desperate impulse, determined to confirm the truth for yourself.

Spencer tried to stop you, but it was no use. The scene unfolded before you, and your eyes landed on the lifeless face of someone you deeply loved. Reality hit you hard, and all your strength collapsed in an instant. It was as if the world crumbled around you, and you were paralyzed, trapped in that endless moment of pain and desolation.

Spencer watched as you broke down. The shock in your face, the trembling in your hands, the emptiness in your gaze… it was all a blend of emotions he knew too well. Seeing any corpse was hard, for sure, but seeing someone you knew lying on the floor was heartbreaking.

As he looked at you, he recalled his own experiences of loss. Those nights when he had desperately wished for a hug, a refuge, a promise that things would be okay. His heart broke seeing you so vulnerable, and without thinking further, he crossed the distance between you and wrapped you in his arms.

The warmth of his embrace shattered the emotional blockade you had been submerged in, and suddenly, you found yourself clinging to him with all your might, seeking in his presence a comfort that seemed impossible.

You felt the weight of your emotions overflowing, the pain pulling you down with an unstoppable force. Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, and you buried your face in his chest, as if you were trying to disappear in his embrace. Spencer felt each shaky breath, each tear that fell onto his clothing, and he held you with the same intensity, as if he too depended on that contact to stay whole.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice barely breaking, as if those words could somehow shield you from reality.

In his mind, Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about all he had wished for in his worst moments. No one had been there to hold him in the same way when he faced his own tragedies. He remembered the loneliness, the deep pain that threatened to consume him, and how he had learned to bury his feelings just to keep going. But now, at that moment, he felt a desperate urge to be for you everything he had never had.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, with a conviction that brought you a faint sense of calm. His arms were like a barrier against the world, a shield that offered you protection amidst the chaos around you. In that moment, nothing else mattered; only the warmth of his embrace, the firmness of his hold, and the words he whispered like a mantra. He wasn’t promising that the pain would go away, but that he would be there to hold you through it.

Around you, the crime scene continued its course: the patrol lights illuminated the night, agents went on with their work, and the murmur of voices mixed with the ambient noise. But for you, all of that faded away; there was only Spencer and the refuge he provided in that moment of weakness.

The trembling in your hands began to subside little by little, though the pain did not disappear. Your breathing became a bit steadier, and you dared to look up, meeting Spencer’s eyes. There was something in his expression, a mix of empathy and determination that made you feel understood. He wasn’t just there as your boss or your mentor; he was there as someone who understood your suffering in a way no one else could.

In his mind, Spencer repeated a silent promise. He wouldn’t let you go through the same things he had. You couldn’t know it, but each gentle rub on your back, each softly whispered word, was charged with a silent resolve, a promise that he would do everything he could so you wouldn’t have to face the pain alone.

“We’re going to get through this,” he finally whispered, his voice steadier than he actually felt. And as you nodded weakly, you clung to that phrase as if it were an unbreakable promise.

Spencer kept his arms around you for several minutes, ignoring the passage of time and the murmur of the other agents. He was aware that you’d have to face reality eventually, that you’d have to process what had happened. However, he was willing to hold you as long as necessary, because he knew that in moments like this, support and company were the only things that could mitigate the pain, even if just a little.

To him, holding you was more than an act of comfort; it was an act of redemption, a way to heal his own wounds by offering you the support he had never received. And in that instant, you both shared a moment of intimacy and understanding so profound that it transcended words.

When you finally pulled away, he kept a hand on your shoulder, a gesture of support that anchored you to reality. Your eyes met, and in Spencer’s gaze, you found a silent promise that you would be okay, that he would be by your side for as long as it took. And although the pain hadn’t vanished, you knew that, at least for that moment, you weren’t alone.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Sweet vengeance. // Gwayne Hightower x Cole!Reader (sister of Criston Cole)

Summary: After the encounter with Criston Cole, they return to the keep after successfully defending the territory, almost as if the gods were calling out for him to seek revenge; he ends up bumping into you.

WARNINGS: smut, mdni, porn with plot (a little bit too much plot ig), unprotected p in v sex, slight breeding kink, cunnilingus, oral (f. receiving) interrupted orgasm at the end, cumming inside, Gwayne is an absolute asshole to Criston, purity culture, virginity loss, profanity, age gap (left it up interpretation, but the reader is in her 20s and Gwayne in his 40s), doesn't follow the show plot it's a literal fic which I altered heavily + not proofread.

WC: 2.7k

A/N: here comes the promised gwayne x cole!reader fic, I've teased it ever since that confrontation episode dropped and now finally I'm able to publish it 😭 // divider credits: @cafekitsune

Gwayne walked through the corridors furiously, stomping his feet inside the red keep, departing to his guest chambers in a hurried manner, trying to stay calm.

He just returned from the battle, successfully defeating the invasion of the blacks into King's Landing, securing the land for themselves as Aemond ruled as Prince regent. However, there was only one thing on his mind.

His sister's tainted honour.

Amidst everything, he had gotten Criston to confess and admit that he was sleeping with the Queen, he was disgusted by the revelation. Wasn't Criston a kingsguard? Vowing to not seek pleasures or taint his cloak?

He felt sick in the stomach, wanting to empty it out, regardless of the fact that there is nothing inside.

His feet tapped against the stone floor harshly, his armour clanking with every step forward, he took a harsh turn at the end of the path only for his body to hit something that came from the opposite direction, causing him to stumble two steps backward. He took a moment to collect himself and straighten his posture, wanting to see what it was that he bumped into.

He looked down, shocked to see you on the ground. You broke the impact of the fall with your hands, which proved to be a bad idea considering how the force made them give up immediately, crashing your butt onto the ground. “Ouch.” You clenched your eyes shut as a burning sensation spread through your buttox.

You glared at the reason for your fall, eyes widening on the realisation that it was Ser Gwayne Hightower. “Seven hells, I apologise my lady, are you alright?” Gwayne is quick to apologise, extending his out, waiting for you to grab it and get up.

You gently place your hand in his, his palm closing immediately as he grips onto you while you get off the ground. “Ser Gwayne, I apologise, it was me who was at fault.” You bow, dusting off your gown with one of your hands.

“If it is not rude, might I ask who you are? I have not ever seen you around before, yet you seem to know me.” He speaks politely, giving you a small smile and you nod. “I am Y/N Cole, I know you very well Ser, your knighthood isn't unheard of.” You praise him.

“Y/N Cole… ? Are you related to Ser Criston Cole perhaps?” He questions, furrowing his eyebrows as his grip tightens around your hand. “Yes Ser Gwayne, He is my elder brother.” You reply.

Gwayne was not aware that Criston had a sister.

He took in your form, eyes trailing down from your face to your neck, to your breasts and further downwards, analysing you quite intently, “Mhm, I did not know he had a sister.” Gwayne shrugs, still not letting go of your hand. “He is quite overprotective, so he doesn't mention my existence to his peers.” You admit embarrassedly, looking down and biting your lip. He stared at you for a moment too long, the like of dots being connected as his mind sketches out a plan of action. His expression almost betrayed him as his face bloomed into a wide smile.

Oh you sweet little thing.

He could not believe that Criston had a younger sister. It's almost as if the Gods are etching him on to trudge this path, but he was not going to complain. It felt like he won a war when he realised this fact.

He can use you against Criston.

Perhaps he will make Criston feel the same thing he felt.

He smiles widely at you, bringing your hand upwards and pressing his lips to your knuckles. You blush at this gesture and give him a soft smile in return. “If you may excuse me, I have to take my leave, my lady. I've returned from war and my state.. is well.” He looks at himself and you chuckle, “It is alright.” You reply and he smiles. “Let's go on a stroll next time, yeah?” He speaks in a questioning manner, your eyes widen at the offer but you nod immediately.

Those walks became more frequent as you both enjoyed each other's company quite a lot. Gwayne found you much more bearable than criston, he's aware of the fact that he is an elitist. Holding himself at great stature as he comes from the Hightower family. So any other house that is not in power or he hasn't heard of; he acts like an ass to them.

But he found himself being lenient on you, perhaps to butter you up for the feast he's planning to have. His thoughts have been a mess for the past few days. He at first began to plan on how to execute the plan and take your maidenhead and let the keep hear it. But the ratio of the execution and sexual part became heavily unequal as he wanted to indulge fully in you.

You were beautiful, your skin was pretty, the way your hair was styled, exposing your neck from behind. He wanted to bend you over the ledge and fuck you. You would be so confused he assumes.

Have you had your first orgasm? Did you ever touch yourself?

You were from Dorne so you must know of the deprived acts right? But he notes how young you are, likely spending your entire life here in Kings Landing with Cole.

It was one of those usual garden walks you went on with Gwayne, walking in silence as you both had nothing to talk about, this was no means foreign to you, there would always be silence sometimes during your walks; but this time it felt tense.

Like the feeling of a volcano before it erupts.

You both were standing over the parapet of the backside in the keep, noticing how the waters flowed gently. You felt him move, standing right behind you, pressing himself against you.

“My lady.” He whispers in your ear and you turn your head slightly, not reacting in any way, “H-hmm?” You reply in nervousness his hands moved up your sides in a sensual manner. You stood there frozen.

He grabs you by your shoulder and spins you around so that you're facing, placing his hands on both the sides of your frame; preventing any escape. “Are you promised to any man yet? Your beauty is otherworldly.” He asks, his eyes staring right into you, his voice was sweet yet held a hint of his perverse desire for you.

You shake your head no.

“Such a pity.” He mocks, one of his hands coming to grip your cheek. He pauses for a moment, staring at your lips before looking into your eyes waiting for you to say something; yet you remain quiet as your heart beats loudly in your chest.

He takes it as a cue to press his lips against yours closing his eyes; fully indulging himself onto you as he groans at how soft your lips feel, his own move against yours in a soft manner, a gentle pull of a wave.

It was your first kiss, never having done this with anyone before, it felt odd; but in a good way, his lips felt soft against yours, he waited for you to reciprocate— giving you all the time you needed to process this.

One of his hands rested on your hips, using it as leverage to pull you closer, pressing your bodies together while the other positioned itself against the back of your head pulling you deeper into the kiss.

You responded a while later, learning through the process, moving your lips in a rhythmic motion with his, he muttered something against your lips which you weren't able to process as your mind was hazy. Something about this kiss was shooting immense pleasure down your body; increasing the heat between your legs.

He pulls away from the kiss to take a breath while staring at your lips, noticing the string of saliva that was still connecting you both. He hums before capturing your lips once again but with even more fervour this time. He pushes back until your butt hits the ledge before he places you on it, not breaking the kiss at all.

He plants himself between your legs as his hands roam around all over your body in desperation, sometimes gripping your waist or your soft breasts, squeezing your flesh as he grips onto you tightly.

He breaks the kiss abruptly before he suddenly kneels, you look at him confused until you notice that he's hiking your skirts up, revealing your intimate area. “Ser, this might be inappropriate—” You try to protest but not knowing what to expect, but circles his arms around your thighs pulling you close as he disappears before your legs.

You watch curiously when you feel his warm breath on your cunt. You shriek in surprise when you feel his tongue run across your fdd before he fully takes in your cunt.

You squirm uncontrollably as he works his wonders on your cunt; causing you to grip his hair tightly and push yourself further into his face, you let out small moans, hoping that no one would pass by this area and catch you both in this compromised position.

You place your other hand on the ledge to support yourself from falling before closing your eyes and fully enjoying what he's doing to you. His tongue laps hungrily at your folds, licking them up and down before he suckles on your clit harshly, flicking the bud with his tongue before capturing it wholly again with his mouth.

He groans into your cunt, enthralled by the sensation of having your soft folds in his mouth, he enjoyed it way too much than he'd like to admit, wanting to be forever stuck in between your legs.

You feel a sudden heat building up in your abdomen as he continues his actions, “U-uhm Ser Gwayne— I think something is happening.” You tell him unsure which makes him speed up his movements.

Without warning, you're hit with a plethora of euphoria, your back automatically arching and your voice letting out a loud moan as the feeling hits you in waves. He suckles on your cunt for a minute to let you ride out your orgasm before coming out your skirt.

You feel your cheeks heat up when you see how his lips were coated with your wetness which makes you look away in shyness, he gets back up on his feet before grabbing your chin and tilting your head slightly to make you look at him.

He doesn't say anything but only stares at you as he slowly connects both your lips once again, making you take your own essence. He grinds against you, pressing his now hard bulge in between your thighs as he dry humps you.

He tears away from the kiss with a wet pop, not wasting any time in undoing his breeches, revealing his cock to you, your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of it. “I-i don't think it will fit?” You stare at him which makes him smirk a little, “It will my lady, I shall see it does.” He replies before bunches up your skirt, making your cunt come into view.

He slowly lines himself against your entrance, his tip kissing the entryway gently as he slowly closes in, pushing it inch by inch. He places his hand on both your sides as you grip him for support, the stretch stinging a little bit.

It takes a while but he's fully inside now, and slowly he begins to move, he grabs a hold of your waist with one of his hands so you don't fall over the edge, he pushes your body against his, making it so as if you're hugging him.

You wrap your arms around his neck tightly as he rams into you, thrusting in and out; causing you to bounce along with him, he grunts into your ear, whispering sweet things.

“Seven hells, you feel so divine.” He whispers against your ear, causing you to clench involuntarily; which makes him gasp in shock, “Jeez—” He drops his head onto your shoulder, now fully gripping you by his arms around your waist as he rams further and further into you. “Fuck, I'm about to finish— should I do it inside you? Fill you up with my seed huh? Make you carry my babes?” He groans, the idea of you being pregnant with his children driving him insane, it would always be a good way to get back at Criston.

You feel him hitting your sweet spot inside you, prodding it with his tip every thrust. His pace falters as he reaches his end, with a final thrust— he finishes with a loud moan of your name as he pulls back and recaptures your lips, kissing you with even more hunger.

He keeps thrusting, wanting you go finish as well, you were about to; almost reaching the breaking point— “What in the seven fucking hells is going on here?!” The shout of a familiar voice makes you snap out of the trance, Gwayne halts and you both immediately look to the place of origin.

It was your brother, Criston.

His expression contained that of both anger and shock, Gwanye quickly pulls himself out of you and puts his breeches back on and you get off the ledge and pull your skirts down and pat the wrinkles down.

“B-brother I— I can explain, it was me—” You begin, “Be quiet, Y/N.” He grits his teeth, cutting you off from speaking as his eyes shoot daggers into Gwayne, whose face is now bearing a smug expression.

“You fucking bastard!” Criston yells before he reaches over and grabs Gwayne, throwing him to the ground before punching his face. Gwayne dodges it, holding his hands down. “It is not so nice when you discover that someone has been fucking your sister, is it?” Gwayne remarks which angers Criston further.

A group of guards rush over putting an end to this fight, pulling the two men apart as you stand there in shock, shaking as if you were scared of both the men.

The next thing you know, You, Gwayne, Criston were all standing before the dowager queen as she looked at you all three in questioning ways. “What has happened?” She directs her question to Gwayne who raises an eyebrow.

Gwayne doesn't answer, “This b- Lord Gwayne was—” Criston swallows as he looks at you, “He was caught in a compromising position with my sister.” He blurts out, “And what was the compromising position that made you raise your hand on my brother, Ser Cole? They could have just been together—” Alicent wanders off.

“He was fucking my sister.” Criston grits his teeth, spitting the words out like venom, causing Alicent to cut herself off. She goes silent as she looks over at her brother, “Is this true?” She asks and Gwayne nods, “Yes my Queen, how can a man hold himself back at the sight of such a maiden? Besides, she wasn't opposed to the idea.” Gwayne speaks out, his words angering Criston ever more.

“Y-yes your grace, I wasn't opposed to it.” You jump in defending Gwayne which makes me smile at you, making Criston look at you in disbelief.

“My Queen, he has tainted her, he has ruined her, who will marry her now?” Criston brings up a valid point which makes the Queen get lost in thought, you put your head down, ashamed of it.

“I shall, I will marry her.” Gwayne volunteers which makes everyone look at him in shock. He only offers a smile.

He wasn't doing it out of kindness or anything, he knew that by marrying you, Criston will experience the same torment and anguish Gwayne felt when he discovered the truth of Criston and Alicent, except it will be a hundred times worse because Criston has no way to avenge himself, for he cannot marry Alicent.

He'll have to suffer, watch his little sister marry Gwayne, become his wife and a mother of his children, every step will be a stab in a vital organ to Criston.

Was Gwayne going a bit too far? Perhaps, yet it didn't matter, for the situation only benefits him. Not only will Criston be tormented by this relationship but he will have you as his pretty wife whom he can fuck and ruin all he wants.

Gwayne is a selfish man.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Four

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angst

A tense silence hung in the air after your exit. Steve shot Bucky a sharp look, muttering under his breath, “What the hell, man?”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, trying to play it off with a shrug. “I was just joking around,” he muttered, a defensive edge creeping into his voice as he took another swig of his drink.

“Joking?” Natasha’s voice was laced with disbelief as she glared at him, not letting it slide. “That wasn’t joking; that was cruel.” She pushed at his shoulder, forcing him to scoot over as she slid out of the booth, clearly fed up with him. Without another word, she walked off in your direction, leaving Bucky with a mixture of confusion and something that almost looked like regret.

Kate looked at him, her brows furrowing. “What was that about?” she asked gently, her hand resting on his arm, her gaze both puzzled and a little disappointed.

Bucky opened his mouth, as if trying to explain, but nothing came out. He just watched Natasha head toward the bathroom, a strange knot forming in his stomach as he began to process what he’d said—and how it landed, but he couldn't have meant it like that right? It was you, why would he intentionally try to hurt you?

“Not tool Buck, not cool” Sam shook his head in disapproval.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were struggling to keep it together. The tears you’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally slipped free, and you swiped at them quickly, determined to regain your composure. But the hurt lingered, twisting deeper the longer you replayed his words in your head.

The door creaked open, and Natasha stepped in, immediately spotting you by the sink. Her expression softened as she approached, her eyes filled with concern. She didn’t waste any time, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a reassuring squeeze.

“He was completely out of line,” she said, her voice warm and comforting. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You shook your head, giving a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I don’t get it, Nat,” you whispered, the words tumbling out as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I don’t get him. Why would he say something like that?”

Natasha rubbed your shoulder, giving you a small, knowing smile. “Because he’s a stupid boy who doesn’t realize what’s right in front of him,” she said, her voice firm and confident. “And sometimes, people say things to hurt the ones they care about without even realizing why.”

You looked at her, a glimmer of hope trying to break through the sadness. “Do you think… he even cares?”

Natasha tilted her head, considering her words carefully. “I think he cares a lot more than he wants to admit. But you can’t wait around for him to get his act together, babe. You deserve someone who’ll see you for who you are without needing a wake-up call.”

Natasha’s hand gripped your shoulder gently, grounding you as she leaned against the bathroom counter. “Screw him,” she muttered, her tone fierce with loyalty. “He doesn’t deserve you. You’re gonna love Dean.” With a mischievous smile, she pulled out her phone, tapping through her photos until she landed on one. She tilted it toward you, her grin widening.

“Here he is,” she said, showing you a picture of Dean. He had tousled dirty blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and a chiselled jawline that made him look straight out of a movie. The complete opposite of Bucky in every way, his gaze was soft but captivating. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

You managed a smile, though your heart still aches. “Yeah… he’s cute.”

Natasha let out a playful scoff, giving you a nudge. “Cute? Babe, he’s more than just cute. Look at that face!”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes as she nudged you again, her energy contagious. “Alright, alright, he’s definitely hot.”

“That’s more like it.” She wiped away a stray tear that had escaped down your cheek, her thumb soft and gentle.

A hesitant smile broke through your sadness “So… next Saturday, huh?”

“Next Saturday.” Natasha squeezed your hand, her eyes warm and encouraging. “You ready to get back out there?”

You paused, taking a shaky breath. “Not really,” you admitted. “I think… I think I’m just gonna head home for the night.”

She studied you for a moment, concern flickering in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, glancing down. “I just… I just wanna be back home.”

Natasha’s expression softened, and she reached out, pulling you into a tight hug. “I wish you’d stay,” she murmured, her voice low and full of understanding. “But I get it.”

You wrapped your arms around her, grateful for her support. “Thanks, Nat. For everything… tell them goodbye for me?”

“Anytime,” she whispered, squeezing you one last time before she pulled back, her hand resting on your shoulder. She gave you a reassuring smile, and you felt a little bit of your resolve strengthen.

As she turned and headed back toward the table, you took a deep breath, straightening yourself. With your gaze fixed firmly ahead, you walked towards the exit, grateful that it was on the opposite side of the bar from their booth. You didn’t look back. The noise of the bar faded behind you, and as you stepped out into the quiet night, a weight lifted ever so slightly from your chest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, bringing a little clarity and calm to the storm swirling inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the ache still lodged in your chest but grateful to be away from the buzz of the bar, from Bucky’s laugh blending with Kate’s. You’d held your own in there, but now, in the stillness, the reality settled heavier on your heart.

You’d been holding onto the hope for so long, convincing yourself that maybe, one day, Bucky would finally see you as more than his best friend, his roommate. But tonight had shattered that illusion in a way you couldn’t ignore. The way he’d looked at Kate — so open, so warm — that had been all you’d ever wanted from him. And watching him give it so freely to her…

You took a deep breath, letting it go, but it came out shakier than you’d hoped. Standing on the edge of the sidewalk, you let yourself feel the sting fully, knowing it was time to start letting go. Natasha was right. Maybe Dean could be a fresh start, a way to move forward. You thought back to that photo on her phone and found yourself smiling, just a little.

---------

Natasha came back to the table, her gaze steely, but before she could say anything, she looked around, noticing Kate’s absence. “Where’d Kate go?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda answered for Bucky, who was still staring down at his drink, sulking. “She had to take a work call,” Wanda said, glancing between Natasha and Bucky with a bit of a frown.

Natasha nodded, then took her seat, her expression hardening as her eyes locked onto Bucky.

Natasha slid back into the booth, her expression colder than Bucky had ever seen. Steve’s gaze snapped to her immediately. “Where’s Y/N?” he asked, voice edged with concern.

“She left,” Natasha replied, a clipped edge to her words. She barely spared Bucky a glance, instead meeting Steve’s gaze, giving him a silent nod.

Steve’s face dropped. “Without saying goodbye?” His question was softer this time, almost to himself, as he began to slide out of the booth. He tossed a quick look to Natasha, who shifted over to take his spot, freeing him up to stand.

Steve grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and Sam raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going, man?”

“I’ll be right back,” Steve said shortly, already turning toward the exit, his footsteps determined as he headed for the door. He didn’t spare Bucky a second glance.

The silence left behind was tense. Natasha fixed her gaze on Bucky from across the table, her expression steely, almost disappointed. “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” she said, her voice quiet but cutting.

Bucky finally looked up, his jaw clenched, and he let out a rough sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why the hell would I be happy with myself after that?” His voice was low, frustration simmering beneath the words. He avoided her gaze, instead staring down at his half-empty glass.

Natasha crossed her arms, her stare unyielding. “I believe you know exactly what you’re doing, Bucky. And you know it hurts her.”

His head shot up, his eyes flashing, scoffing “What exactly am I doing Nat? What do you think I should do? Just pretend none of this bothers me?”

Natasha held his gaze, not backing down an inch. “No, Bucky, I think you need to decide what you actually want. Because this back-and-forth, hot-and-cold thing you’re doing? It’s cruel. You can’t keep lashing out at her just because you’re confused or jealous or whatever it is.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his frustration spilling over. “You think I want to hurt her? I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. “I just didn’t expect her to… to….I dont know” His lip wobbled, eyes blurring before he chugged back the rest of his whiskey

Natasha’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “So that’s what this is about? You don’t want her, but you can’t stand the thought of her being with someone else?”

Bucky opened his mouth, then shut it, his expression twisted with frustration and something else—guilt, maybe, or regret. “I never said I didn’t want her,” he muttered, voice barely audible.

Natasha let out a sharp breath, her expression softening, though her disappointment was still clear. “Then maybe you should stop playing games and actually tell her how you feel. But don’t expect her to wait around forever while you figure it out, it's been years Barnes”

Bucky fell silent, his gaze drifting to the empty seat you’d left behind. He could still feel the sting of his own words, the hurt they’d caused you, lingering like a bruise.

“Look, Buck,” Natasha said, her tone gentler now, “you have a choice here. You can keep doing this—keep hurting her, and yourself—or you can take a risk and be honest. But you can’t keep stringing her along. It’s not fair.”

Bucky swallowed hard, staring down at the table. “I didn’t mean for it to go this way,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I just didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”

Natasha’s expression softened further, her voice turning almost sympathetic. “Love is messy, Buck. But if you’re not willing to be vulnerable, you’re just going to keep hurting each other. Think about what you really want, before it’s too late.”

She let her words sink in, then glanced away, as if giving him a moment to process. Bucky stayed quiet, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, his mind racing, torn between fear and hope, knowing he’d have to face the consequences of his choices—one way or another.

Bucky nodded, barely. He stared down at his glass, the noise of the bar fading into the background as Natasha’s words echoed in his mind.

-----

The sound of footsteps on gravel pulled you from your thoughts just outside the bar. You looked up, expecting maybe a stranger passing by, but instead, there was Steve, hands in his pockets, watching you with that familiar, steady gaze of his.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” he said, voice soft. “You didn’t say goodbye.”

You shrugged, forcing a small smile. “Didn’t feel like there was much to say.”

Steve took a step closer, his brows furrowing as he studied you, picking up on the hurt you’d tried so hard to hide. “Nat filled me in,” he said gently, taking off his coat to place it on your shoulders. “He really doesn’t know what he’s missing, you know.”

The words hit you harder than you’d expected, and you felt the corners of your mouth waver. “It’s fine. I think I needed to see it… to know, really.”

He sighed, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Maybe. But you deserve better than the way he acted back there.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess it’s time I started looking for it, then.”

Steve’s face softened, and he extended an arm, pulling you in for a warm, steady hug. You let yourself sink into the comfort he offered, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back as he muttered, “Good for you.”

As you pulled back, you felt a little lighter, the hurt still there but somehow dulled by the kindness of a friend who truly saw you. “Thanks, Stevie…for always being here.”

He smiled, giving you a gentle nudge. “You’ll be alright. You’re stronger than you know, you want me to walk you home?”

You smiled, of course he would offer Steve always was and always will be a gentleman “No im okay, i can make it just down the street, plus i got the warmth now” You laughed gesturing to his coat he gave you.

You could see the internal battle in his eyes of actually letting you walk home by yourself, you reached out placing your hand on his shoulder “Ill be fine okay?”

He sighed “Just text me as soon as you get home okay?”

“Of course”

“And i know how long it takes for you to get home from here, so i expect a text in no less than 7 minutes, got it?” His voice was stern

You saluted him “Yes sir” You shared a quiet look before he slipped back into the bar, leaving you with one last, reassuring smile. Taking a deep breath, you turned and started toward home, the streetlights casting soft glows on the sidewalk as you walked.

Tonight had broken something in you, but as you left, a strange sense of hope started to take its place. Maybe you really could let go. And next Saturday, maybe you’d start seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes — not as someone’s best friend, but as someone worth more than waiting and wishing.

[beef-brisket]

Charlie and Lucifer talked, chatting about what to say and how to handle the angels. Adam stood back, tense. He doesn't know ow what's going to happen, who he's going to see.

There was a flash of light, and Charlie and Lucifer gasped.

Charlie: M-Mom...?

Lucifer: Lilith...

Lucifer gripped his wedding ring, and he saw that Lilith was wearing hers. He felt his heart fluttee as she smiled at them both. Quickly opening her arms as Charlie ran to her, she smiled down at Lucifer and held his land.

Adam didn't move, even when her eyes fell to him.

Lilith: I'll catch up with you two soon, yes? I have some business with Adam to discuss.

Her voice got harsh when she mentioned Adam. Charlie was confused as to why she'd want to see him, but she didn't complain as the two walked into another meeting room.

Charlie: ...Dad?

Lucifer: On it, sweetie.

Lucifer spawned a clone, and it shape shifted into a snake. It quickly followed the two, hiding itself quickly.

Lucifer: Alright. Are you ready?

Charlie: Yes, dad. I'm ready.

Lilith: Have a seat.

Adam did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Lilith.

Lilith: So! I heard from a little one armed birdie that extermination didn't go too well? My poor, sweet ex-husband fell to an angelic blade. Poor darling. Just when we were starting to fix our relationship!

Lilith sat down across from Adam. She had that damn smile on her face, Adam learnt a long time ago it was best not to get Lilith get to him. All she's after is a reaction.

Lilith: Now, I'm here to make some additions to our deal~. And don't worry, they will benefit both of us!

Adam: And what additions are those?

Lilith: As much as I love my daughter, I can't let this whole hotel thing go ahead. I have a deal with Heaven, you see? And in wake of my poor ex-husband's death, I am to prevent anymore "redeemed" souls to enter Heaven.

Adam: ...wait, anymore? What do you mean?

Lilith: Oh, I suppose I should tell you, seeing a you won't find out with my darling Lucifer and my sweet Charlotte. A sould from Hell has arrived in Heaven. A snake, I believe.

Adam: Sir Pentious?

Lilith: Yes, that sounds like him! Well, if you know of him, then the rumors are true. He was a sinner. How interesting. But, unfortunately, you need to put a stop to this whole redemption business!

Adam: Me? I... that'll be going against Lucifer-

Lilith: Who?

Adam: -T-The king. What could I even do-?

Lilith: I'm so glad you asked! First, you are to pull your "workers" out of there. Then, get rid of that pornstar, I don't care if you have to get that damn moth to finally enforce his will. Just get rid of him.

Adam: I... no. No, I can't... I won't, they mean too much-

Lilith: To you? Oh, please, Adam. If they knew who you really were, they'd throw you to the streets quicker than you could snap your fingers. And you wouldn't want to lose your power, would you? I'm sure there's a lot of sinner that soukd love to get their hands on you, again~.

Adam cringed, thinking about those early days in Hell. When he looked up, Lilith was next to him.

Lilith: I'll give you more power, of course. It's not like you have a choice, is it?

Adam flinched as his purple collar was summoned. With a harsh tug, he was forced out of his seat and onto the floor.

He glanced and saw a small, white snake looking at him. His heart broke, and now Lucifer knew. He was already dead.

He winced as his leash was pulled, making him sit on his knees. Lilith gripped his chin, and made him look at her.

Lilith: I'll give you more power, and you permanently destroy my daughters hotel. Understood?

Adam: ...I can't! I-I care for them- I-!

Lilith: You?! Care!? HA! I thought you were the radio demon? Known for torturing and devouring all in the Pride ring! You have no heart, Adam. Don't pretend that you do~. Now. You. Do. Understand?

Adam: ...N-No-

Lilith: Don't make me punish you, Adam. I have many interested parties that would love a chance and tasting you~.

Adam flinched: I-I understand- I'll d-do it...

Lilith: Good boy~. Now, open up~.

Adam hates this part.

Lilith leaned down and kissed him. Her power floods into his very angelic soul. Purple veins cracked his skin, making poison drip from the wound. It all burned.

Lilith: Done! Now, be a good boy, and fix yourself up- oh, and tell my darling husband and daughter that I'll catch up another time~.

Before Adam could say anything, she disappeared.

Adam could feel the tears fall from his eyes.

Adam: ...I-I'm sorry...

Lowkey want an au where Adam has Alastors' powers.

The tentacles

The eyes

The changing size

The shadows

The sass

The deal making

Him owning Husk and Nifty

The musical numbers

The radio control

The tentacles- have I mentioned that before?

The rivalry with Lucifer

Maybe he replaces Alastor entirely. No Alastor. Only Adam. It's always been Adam.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

Only Adam lol This is good! His Husk and Nifty could be Lute and Peter.

He doesn't have to smile all the time does he?

Yessss, and he plays rock instead of jazz lol And yes of course there is a rivalry lol

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

1. “I think we could do it, baby.”

Chapter Warnings: Heavy smut, fingering, dominant/submissive motifs, unprotected sex, explicit language, unplanned pregnancy

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There was an enthralling tightness in your stomach as you knocked on the door to Jimin’s apartment. It was a Friday night in April, and you were right on time.

The door opened and there he was, clad in some comfy gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His dark hair was parted at the middle, some pieces draping near his almond-shaped eyes. He’d been growing it out for the past few months, just to try something new.

The grin that met you was classic and unceasingly alluring, “Oh, it’s you.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes at the teasing, letting yourself in. You brushed past him, “I don’t have to stay long, if you were expecting someone else.”

The man shut the door behind you, licking his lips through a suppressed smile. This game you so often played together amused him - pretending that this affair was far more casual and meaningless than it was.

At first, you were just the new girl in the styling department that caught his eye. Over nearly a year, it evolved into something deeper. You went from a one-night stand, to friends with benefits, to something exclusive. Neither of you would define this stage of your relationship, but both of you were confident in one thing - you only had eyes for each other.

Jimin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, "I'm not expecting anyone else."

You walked up to him, getting close enough for him to want to lose it. His hands dropped to your hips, "So you wouldn’t mind if I stay a while?"

You let your nose gently graze against his. His chuckle was low and handsome, "I was planning on it, baby."

A giggle escaped you as your lips met. Every time he kissed you, Jimin experienced some form of revival. Your affection had become something he couldn’t go long without, and the very same could be said for you.

His hands slid from your hips to your rear and gave it a small test squeeze. Almost reflexively, you pressed your lower half into him further. He was already semi-hard, but the contact solidified things down there.

Now both of you were hungrier for the thing you’d been anticipating all day. Your lips encased the other’s over and over again, as Jimin began to slowly lead you into his bedroom.

As you started this familiar dance across the vinyl floor of his apartment, you let out a soft moan. Jimin’s fingers traced along the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head, revealing a bra he hadn’t yet seen on you.

He smiled lustfully, eyes set on the red lacy piece, “Is this new?”

You threw your arms around his neck, aching to feel close to him again, “I might have gone shopping recently.”

The black-haired man kissed you once more, “Have you now?”

“I had to,” you smirked, “You’ve practically torn through my other ones. Lace is delicate, you know.”

Another laugh broke through Jimin’s lips. The next kiss was deep and passionate, stoking the fire. You were absorbing him through all of your senses, enthralled in every ounce of him. You had no idea how this was your real life. Park Jimin, adored by millions, wanted you.

You didn’t know it, but he felt the same. Out of all the people who threw themselves his way, he somehow managed to stumble upon you at the right place, at the right time. Jimin always theorized that the universe had already given him the lucky draw when it came to his career. That his luck had been spent on landing a place in the biggest band in the world. That’s why meeting you baffled him - how could he possibly have gotten more fortunate?

You pulled apart for a moment when you realized that you were standing at the base of his bed. Jimin took this brief instant to gaze into your eyes. They carried more than simple desire. His heart knew what they were spelling out, yet his brain couldn’t compute. And he couldn’t tell you that he desperately felt the same.

He kissed you softer this time. The sentimental nature of it told you how deeply he cared for you. That this was more than just a hook-up for him.

You let your forehead linger against his, “Jimin…”

His arms wrapped around your waist. He was in no hurry, simply enjoying feeling this close to you, “Y/N?”

But you had no idea what you wanted to say, so you made something up on the fly, “I…I didn’t bring a condom with me.”

He kissed your nose before pulling away completely, slightly confused as to why you’d say something like that. You never brought the protection with you when you came over. Heading over to his nightstand, he said, “Doesn’t matter. You know I always keep some here.”

He opened the top drawer of the small wooden table, paused for a second, and then began to rummage through it, “Huh…Well I thought I had some here.”

You felt let down but downplayed your disappointment, “Oh, okay. We don’t have to tonight, then.”

Closing the drawer, Jimin looked back at you with an optimistic, flirty expression, “Or, we could do other things.”

A smile lifted your features. You could have died whenever he looked at you like that - it turned you to mush. Quickly, his hands were on your cheeks as you were pulled into his lips. You moaned softly, feeling his erection still prominent against your femininity.

The making out became fervent again. Jimin sighed as he felt his cock throb, “I want to make you feel amazing, sweetheart.”

There it was. The nickname that absolutely melted away all resolve, and he knew it.

Wanton, you moaned again and let the current take you away, him being pleased by the effect he had on you. Your tongues played nicely together as he gently urged you backwards onto his bed.

Once on top of you, his swollen crotch pressed more firmly against you. He hummed at the tiny spark of pleasure it brought him, grinding his hips back and forth. You moaned as his lips attacked your neck and collarbone and pulled up his t-shirt. Jimin sat back on his heels for a second to whip it off, tossing it aside hastily so he could get back to you.

His lean muscular frame torso, bare and warm, felt like a comfort against you. You felt your face get hot when his kisses trailed down to the valley of your breasts. He always got so turned on by the feeling of your soft breasts on his cheeks.

As he enjoyed his time with your tits, he was mindful not to neglect your now aching core. Jimin’s right hand, the dominant one, drifted down your abdomen and snuck under the hem of your pants. You were in joggers, so he was given easy access. He was satisfied to be met with the feeling of rather thin lace panties.

Knowing that you preferred his fingers to his mouth, he played gently with your clothed clit by tracing over it in a circle. His touch was agonizingly light.

You moaned both with pleasure and frustration, “Why do you always do this?”

Jimin’s smug little grin set you ablaze, “Because you love it.”

You tilted your hips up to gain more friction from his fingers, whining at his truthful words.

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He continued to tease you, “You love feeling like putty in my hands, completely at my mercy. It’s alright to enjoy it.”

Helpless, you nodded, “Fine, I love it. Can you please just touch me?”

He had you right where he wanted you, and it didn’t take anything at all. You would have felt embarrassed, but you knew that soon enough it would be his turn.

Jimin pulled off your pants. Just as he was hoping, your panties matched your bra. You were a feast for his eyes to behold, laying there all hot and bothered in a red set. You were like a fantasy, face flushed and eyes pleading for more. The dim lighting in the room, combined with the moonlight peaking through, danced on your chest as it rose up and down with your breaths.

He then got off the bed momentarily to pull down his own pants, just to save time. He knew that by the end of pleasing you, he’d be dying for relief. His cock sprang free, bobbing up and down with a reddened tip. The sight of him fully naked never failed to impress you. His dancer body was slender yet powerful, trained into this shape by years of performing some of the hardest choreographies in his industry.

Jimin climbed back to you on the bed and slowly guided your panties down your legs.

The brush of his middle two fingers up your core made you gasp softly, eyelids fluttering shut. Feeling your tempting wetness sent a pulse through his member, “Hm…You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you baby? Waiting for me to touch your pretty little clit?”

You agreed as he applied the right amount of pressure, rubbing you faster, “Y-Yes.”

He grinned, “I have too. Every Friday I can’t wait to leave the studio. It’s like clockwork. All I can think about is getting to fuck you.”

As if that gave him an idea, his next move was to insert those two fingers inside your heat, placing his thumb on your sensitive bud instead. He was assertively driving you insane from both places now. As his fingers moved in and out, his thumb skated over you with precision.

You moaned, coating his digits in slick fluids. The sounds produced made the lack of condoms all the more infuriating, filling him with an intense primal desire to take you hard. As the minutes went by, your sounds increased in frequency and volume.

“Jimin!” Your voice was unabashed, “Keep going, just like that.”

“You like this, baby?” He taunted, “Hm?”

You whimpered lewdly, “I’m so close.”

Your words fueled his drive to bring you over the edge. He couldn’t help but let out a low huff as he watched you be in the throes of pure rapture, but it wasn’t enough for him to shake off his teasing demeanor. You looked so beautiful like this, totally caved-in under his touch.

Right as that delicious pit was beginning to form deep in your gut, he pulled away entirely.

Face red and breath slightly labored, you asked, “Why did you stop?”

Jimin prevented you from voicing any more complaints by locking his lips with yours. Then he smiled, “Turn on your side for me, sweetheart.”

You smiled back, knowing exactly where he was going with this. It was one of your favorite positions. You followed his direction and soon felt his chest pressing against your back as he spooned you. His hand slid over your hip and found your clit once more.

You moaned again at the contact, angling yourself towards Jimin so that you could kiss him. This is why you loved this position - it felt so romantic.

His strokes quickened. Your breathing hitched as he began to kiss your neck, “Oh god, Jimin!”

You felt his cock eagerly touching you from behind. On the small of your back you could feel his warm precum, smearing as he instinctively pressed himself further to you with a soft grunt.

Thinking about his readiness accelerated your own pleasure. It was beginning to build now. You were so painfully close that your legs began to quiver.

You threw your head back into the crook of his neck, eyes screwing shut. Jimin’s voice was dangerously low, “That’s right. Cum for me, baby.”

With one last moan, your legs spasmed and you came undone. Jimin continued his motions until you were through. You were left panting now, body limp. Aftershocks washed over you as he explored the result of his efforts. Every tingle inflated his ego. You were so enticingly wet and warm.

You rotated onto your other side so you could face, sealing it all off with a kiss. He grinned into it at first, but his expression changed into one of longing once his cock was given direct contact with your wet folds.

You maneuvered your hips against him, wanting to elicit more of a response. Jimin released a small groan, “Fuck…”

Wantonly, you swung your leg over him and hoisted yourself up into a sitting position on his needy manhood. He licked his lips before pursing them together, gazing up at you with starving eyes.

Testing the waters, you glided your slick, warm cunt over his hardness. He let out another low grunt, gripping your ass roughly. It was taking every ounce of self control not to ram his cock up inside you. All it would take was one thrust, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You repeated the action, but your movement was stopped by the strength of Jimin’s hold on you. His brows were furrowed together, eyes shut. He looked like he could explode, frustrated and deprived of what he wanted most.

Feeling is bare member against you was something that didn’t happen too often, at least not like this - when you were this soaked and he was dying to be inside you. It made you wonder if, just this once, you could do it anyway, without protection.

Your rational side told you it was too risky. You hadn’t been great with the pill as of late. In fact, you were so inconsistent with it that you had an appointment set to get an IUD in coming weeks.

But then you started to think with your privates.

You gave it a little bounce and moaned, your head falling back. It was torturing Jimin. He knew exactly what you were thinking and found that, much to his dismay, he wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight. This felt way too good.

“Y/N, we can’t,” he sighed, “I wish we could but we shouldn’t.”

“I…I know,” you said breathlessly, “It’s just so tempting.”

He chuckled and sat up, guiding your lips into his by holding your chin. You hummed into the kiss, wrapping your legs around him.

Jimin pulled away and tucked your hair behind your ear, “I think if I got to fuck you raw, I’d never want to wear a condom again. It’s a dangerous game.”

You adjusted yourself on his lap, causing both of you to moan again. He dipped his head down so we could kiss your breasts.

His voice was low, his eyes darkened, “Stop, baby.”

But there was something about his tone that told you he didn’t completely mean it. He was telling you to stop, while secretly and stupidly hoping that you wouldn’t. It only emboldened the side of you that wanted to break the rule.

“The chances of anything happening are low.” You said in a near whisper, leaving the door open for him to navigate away from this if he wanted to.

Instead, Jimin continued to love on your body, placing kisses on your collarbone and sternum, “Are they?”

You closed your eyes and enjoyed his adoration of you, “Yeah. My cycle is always regular, so I know when my fertile days are. Today isn’t one of them.”

“Is that so?” He planted his lips on your jawbone.

You hummed, “And you could pull out at the end, to be extra careful.”

Without warning, you were flipped onto your back. Your hair fanned out onto the pillow below as you looked up at a hovering Jimin, who was losing his reluctance. His cock was lined up dangerously close to your entrance, leaking with precum and begging for release.

“Fuck, I want to feel you so bad, sweetheart,” he said, “Would you let me?”

Too eagerly, you nodded and craned your neck up to kiss him. Now that you’d given the green light, he began to intentionally press his tip into you. Your head fell back on the pillow as his dropped to your sternum, both of you releasing sounds of pleasure.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex without a condom, but he was certain that it didn’t feel this amazing. The bottoming out was intense for you, so he gave you a few moments to adjust. You could feel so much more of him as opposed to the usual that it was jarring.

Jimin’s eyes screwed shut, “God, you feel incredible. Are you alright?”

You nodded, “I’m okay. Please, move."

He pulled out halfway before giving you a slow yet deep thrust. The breath he let out was jagged and husky. Without a condom masking some of the sensations, he was now able to feel every bit of you. You were so tight, so lubricated and hot.

Settling into a steady rhythm, your moans picked up. He was delivering wave after wave of gratification, "Oh my god...F-Faster, Jimin."

His pace picked up and he threw his head back, "Fuck, baby."

He wasn't holding back anymore. Soon enough he was pistoning into you, letting out unadulterated grunts every few thrusts. He pinned your legs back against your chest, giving him an even deeper access. The tip of his cock was prodding against your cervix. It felt so right this way, especially when he looked directly into your eyes. You were so vulnerable to him, yet completely cared for.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long kiss, both of you moaning into it. Jimin took a break, feeling his orgasm pending.

"I need," he panted in between kisses, "I need to change positions or I won't last long, sweetheart. I already feel like I could cum any moment."

You giggled a little through your pleasure and rubbed the nape of his neck, "You can have me any way you want me. I just want you to feel good."

"Mm," He kissed you again before pulling out of you, "And I want you to cum on my cock."

You were flipped over again, this time onto all fours.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?" He entered you again, hands cupping your hips perfectly. You were dripping at this point, so he was able to slide in effortlessly. The patting sound of his v-line hitting your ass was almost pornographic, joining the chorus of your heavy breaths and groans.

He slapped your ass, "Answer me."

You loved this filthy side to him. A whimper was your response, "Yes, yes I'm gonna cum!"

It was no exaggeration - his strokes were hitting the right spot without fail. You could only take so much more before you let loose for the second time.

Your vulgar tone sent him into overdrive, battering your pussy in a way you'd only experienced a handful of times before with him.

You practically mewled, "Ah! Jimin, I'm cumming!"

Your walls clenched around him as you released again. His jaw slacked as he moaned at the increased tightness, "Yeah, baby. Fucking cum around my cock. Show me how much you want my load."

Coming down from your high took longer than before, as he kept fucking you unrelentingly.

“Gonna cum soon, sweetheart.”

Jimin’s eyes were screwed shut, his brows cinched inward. His lips parted as he slipped totally past the point of no return.

You were delirious in your afterglow, almost drunk on the sensation of being mounted by him. You bent down and let your cheek rest on the pillow, ass still up.

“J-Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Do it inside me.”

He threw his head back and let out what sounded like half moan, half chuckle. You could hear by his tone that he was smirking, “You’re a little daredevil, you know that? Fuck, say it again.”

Your voice shaky from being rocked back and forth so hard, you repeated it, “Cum inside me, Jimin.”

He was so turned on by the phrase. It unlocked some deeply rooted desire that existed within every man. His fingertips were digging into your hips, “God yes, I’m cumming!”

A low growl came out of him at the same time as his seed. His hips slammed into you a final time, the tip of his cock pressed firmly against your womb. Spurts of cum rushed into you, coating your walls.

Jimin gave a few gentle thrusts as he rode out the high, breathing heavily. He then stilled, lingering for another moment. You hummed in satisfaction when he finally pulled out.

He sighed with a grin on his face as he reached over to the nightstand to get a tissue. For whatever reason, he liked to take care of you after sex, taking it upon himself to wipe you clean and make sure you were comfortable.

He wiped away whatever came dripping out of your pussy, threw the tissue in a wastebasket, and then collapsed beside you. He was on his back, while you were your side facing him. Jimin’s tired smile was mirrored by yours.

He rotated onto his side too, “That was amazing.”

"It was." You whispered.

Your hand was limp on the sheets between the two of you. He took it within his and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckle. Your heart ached for him in intimate moments like this, both of you naked and completely comfortable in each other's presence. You got lost in his eyes, and he in yours. His expressive ones carried a more doe-like quality now as they drank you in. Countless instances like it were what made you both realize that your relationship was more than just sex.

But what was it called, exactly? The lack of a label was useful, at first. Jimin could escape the commitment of having a girlfriend, and you could keep your job. The company had strict rules about artists' dating lives, but it also outright forbade relationships between co-workers. If they knew about this, you'd be terminated immediately.

However, behind closed doors, it was getting harder to accept the state of your relationship. It was more bountiful than either of you expected, but now you were secretly beginning to wonder if this was all it ever could be.

You spent the night at Jimin's place, as usual. You kept a toothbrush and some of your own toiletries there. You even had some of your clothes there - a couple of pairs of socks, some sneakers, and comfy clothes. Just your typical Saturday gear, for when you inevitably had to leave in the morning and act like it never happened.

*5 weeks later*

Another Friday afternoon. You were still at work, going over the styling concepts for the guys' upcoming album. You were drowning in fabric swatches, trying to piece together seven main looks that would mesh with each other nicely while expressing the music's overall feel.

You'd been locked in your office all day doing this, only letting the world know you were alive when you had to use the restroom or refill your water bottle. It was no wonder that you lost track of time, not knowing how late it was.

Your colleague and friend, a fellow stylist named Chaeyoung, opened your door and ducked her head inside, "Uh, you know it's four o'clock, right? Don't you have that doctor's appointment?"

You looked at her with wide eyes and dropped everything, eyes then darting to the clock, "Shit, I didn't realize."

It was the day you were scheduled to get your new form of birth control, the IUD. Your gynecologist was a fifteen-minute drive and your appointment was at four-twenty, meaning you had to hurry.

You grabbed your jacket and shoved some things into your work bag hastily - laptop, phone charger, and the binder with all the swatches in it.

You hated to leave in such a hurry, but you rushed past your coworker, "Thanks, Chae. I'll see you Monday."

The sound of her amusement behind you was evident, but you had no time to stick around. As you left the Styling Department, you muttered goodbyes to your other colleagues, who were all starting to wrap up their business for the week.

The door to the department let out into a wide hallway. The only other department on this floor was Marketing - the rest of the doors were conference rooms, restrooms, etcetera. One of them was a stairwell. You were on the third floor of the building, and at the speed you were going, taking the stairs would likely get you to your car faster than the elevator.

The clacking of your pumps echoed in the stairwell as you focused on trying not to break an ankle, your free hand grazing the top of the rail.

You hustled until you reached the door that would open to the parking garage, which was beneath the building. As you reached for the push handle, the door swung open towards you.

Startled, you maneuvered out of the way in the nick of time, to avoid getting hit in the face. To your surprise, it was none other than Jimin and Jungkook.

You'd gotten fairly acquainted with all of the members of BTS since starting at the company, enough that being in their company was no longer awkward. So, when you were suddenly confronted with the youngest member, you weren't perturbed. Both of them were warm with you, greeting you with kind smiles and apologizing for almost running into you.

Jimin, in addition to being happy to see you, also took notice of how hurried you seemed - bag and jacket strewn carelessly over on one elbow, breath a little weary from running down the stairs.

He raised his brows, "Where are you off to?"

You turned a little pink. If it was just Jimin, you might have been fine, but there was no way you could omit the truth in front of Jungkook.

"Just a doctor's appointment." You blurted.

Well, it wasn't necessarily a lie.

You couldn't sneak anything past Jimin at this point. He could read your expressions effortlessly. Clearly, you were a little frazzled, but his gut told him to let it go for now, for your sake.

Wanting to appear casual, you asked, "How about you guys?"

The younger replied with a pat on his brother's back, "Just coming back from a photoshoot."

You nodded silently. Trying to save you from speculation on the part of Jungkook, Jimin made sure there was nothing on his face that could make him suspicious, "We'll get out of your way, then."

You nodded politely and smiled at them again, "Thanks, sorry guys. H-Have a good weekend!"

They cleared the way for you to move forward, and you did. The door closed behind you as you headed into the garage, digging for your keys.

The two men resumed their walk up the stairs. They were going to the second floor to grab a few things before heading to the eighth for a brief recording session.

Jungkook glanced behind him for a second and then caught up to Jimin, "Jeez, that was weird. And you didn't ask if she was coming over tonight. Everything alright between you two?"

His question came from a good place, but it made the other look all around them to ensure their privacy. He then shook his head and chided the younger in a sharp whisper, "Keep your voice down!"

They proceeded to climb the stairs. Jungkook took it down a notch and whispered in response, "Sorry...But is everything okay?"

Jimin sighed. This really wasn't the time or place for this, "Yes, we're the same as always. And I didn't ask her if she was coming over because it's pretty much a given at this point."

A chuckle came from the heavily-tattooed man, "Must be nice, guaranteed sex every week."

"Shut up," Jimin hissed again, "It's not like that. We do other things too."

"I know, I'm just teasing. Relax," Junkook smirked, "And you're still exclusive, right?"

Now the older was becoming frustrated, "Yes, we are. Your point, please?"

Jungkook's bunny smile appeared as he enjoyed getting a small rise out of him, "Nothing, nothing. It's just, some might call that-"

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door above opening and closing. Jimin counted his lucky stars.

"Alright, Y/N," your gynecologist, Doctor Baek, sighed contently as she sat down on a cushioned stool beside the examination table, "I just need to go over a few details again with you before we move forward with the procedure."

You were sitting on the table in a blue gown, ready to get this over with, "Sure."

She went over the things you discussed during your initial consultation for this, just to ensure all of the information was the same. Coming down to the end of the list, she said, "Okay, you experience no chronic headaches or dizzy spells, correct?"

It was correct, although you had one minor dizzy spell earlier in the week. But it was only one, so it couldn't be significant, "Yes."

"Great. And lastly, there's no possibility you could be pregnant, correct?"

You bit your lip, not knowing how to answer that. As annoying as it was, you figured you should err on the side of caution, "I don't believe so, but I did have unprotected sex about a month ago."

Doctor Baek, a kind woman and a true professional, nodded without any sign of judgement, “Any symptoms, like nausea or breast tenderness?”

“My breasts have been tender, but that always happens around my period,” you said little nervously, “But I think got my period last week.”

Doctor Baek seemed confused, “You aren’t sure? I thought your periods were pretty regular.”

“W-Well, they are,” you weren’t sure if you were trying to assure her or yourself, “But it was lighter than normal.”

The doctor hummed, and wheeled over to the little desk in with a computer on it, “I see.”

She logged into the system and began typing away. You swung your feet around each other, beginning to feel a bit anxious, hands folded in your lap.

“I’m ordering a pregnancy test for you, just to rule it out,” she said, making a few clicks on the desktop before swiveling back to you, “It will be a urine test, so we will have the results in a few short minutes. If you’re not pregnant, we will proceed with the implantation, okay?”

Doctor Baek got up to retrieve the test she ordered from the lab. A storm of bewilderment and nerves brewed within you as you nodded along, trying to sell yourself as composed. Meanwhile, you were wracking your brain for any other signs you could have missed. How could these even be possible given your very regular cycle. It was never off. Yes, you and Jimin made a dumb decision in one moment of passion, but you knew it wouldn’t have been possible on that day.

Could the one and only time you had unprotected intercourse, have occurred at the one and only time your cycle was off?

As the panic swirled, you started mentally kicking yourself for being so careless.

A few minutes, the doctor came back with the test in her hand. It looked like anything you could have found at a drug store, plus a cup. For sanitation reasons, you were asked to take the cup into the bathroom and pee into it. From there, Doctor Baek gloved her hands and dipped the stick test into the cup. She then put a lid onto the used cup and sealed it in a biohazard bag for disposal.

Sensing your nerves, your kindhearted care provider set the test aside to do its work, “We’ll give it a few minutes. Try not to worry.”

You nodded silently, but it was all over your face.

Doctor Baek scooted the stool closer to you and patted your knee, smiling at you emphatically, “Don’t let your thoughts spiral just yet, Y/N. Take it one second at a time.”

She was right, you thought. You were getting worked up over nothing. The likelihood was small, and so was the reason to brood. You were able to settle yourself for the remaining minutes, which went by in a flash.

Then your bubble burst.

Doctor Baek went to pick up the test, "Well, you won't be getting the IUD today, I'm afraid."

Your gut fell as you shook your head, "B-But what about the bleeding? I had a period last week, right?”

"Light bleeding is actually an early sign of pregnancy."

The rest of your appointment was fuzzy. You could barely comprehend what she was saying to you, overcome with a harsh squeezing feeling in your stomach. You had Park Jimin's child growing inside you. You might have been upset, but how could you have been? Both of you made a conscious, risky decision that night, and this was the consequence.

The dominant emotion sending you into a freeze response was helplessness. The father of this baby was an international celebrity with so little bandwidth for normal human relationships, let alone parenthood. Would he even want to do this with you, or would he cut ties? Your relationship was a secret to all but a handful of people - nobody would have to know. He could leave you without a trace, and maybe that would be best. After all, if anyone found out that you two had been involved, you would lose your job.

"Y/N," Doctor Baek got your attention again, "Remember, one second at a time. I can see that this is a shock for you."

"Yes, it is." You replied distantly.

"May I ask if the father is known or supportive?"

You closed your eyes and angled your chin downward, letting out a breath through your nose.

The doctor felt for you, "It's going to be alright. Why don't we send you home with some informational pamphlets about different resources? Take a few days to think about the options. If you decide to move forward with the pregnancy, I'd like to book you for an ultrasound within the next few weeks to get the due date and make sure things look healthy."

"O-Okay."

You got dressed back into your work clothes, feeling like a completely different person wearing them. On your way out, you were given the pamphlets. Then, you started a dazed walk back to your car.

You drove away from the medical campus without a sense of direction. You simply let habit take over, and it took you to the same place you wound up every Friday night.

Not knowing if he'd even be home, you parked in the guest lot and went in anyway. You used the spare key card he'd given you to make it into his building and took the elevator up to the apartment.

One thing you appreciated about this living community was that it was extremely private. There were other idols and otherwise confidential people living there who minded their own business.

Once you reached the right floor, you felt a huge knot tie around your ribcage, suffocating you. It was as if you didn't notice where your feet were taking you - it was just second nature. But now here you were, at the door of Jimin's place.

You had to at least tell him.

Taking a breath, you summoned enough courage to knock on the door. No response. You tried again and, almost to your regret, it opened.

Jimin seemed glad yet confused to see you, taking his earbuds out of his ears, "Sorry, I didn't hear you at first. Come in."

The cheeky, handsome smile he was wearing would have melted you on any other day, but you couldn't entertain it right now. He noticed the frozen look on your face - you didn't even greet him back as you went through the doorframe. Jimin closed the door and turned to you, but you weren't facing him. Instead, you were roaming into the living room.

"Y/N? What's up with you?" he asked, "You seem lost."

You dropped your work bag onto the floor and plopped down onto one of the sofas, staring ahead with disorientation written all over your face. Subconsciously, you kicked off your heels.

Then he remembered that you had just been to the doctor, and his concern elevated, "Did everything go alright at your appointment?"

You closed your eyes and shook your head, gulping. When you finally met his gaze, you were holding back tears, "I went to see my gynecologist today to get an IUD put in."

He nodded and sat next to you, making sure that his body was facing yours head-on. Somewhere in his brain was a faint memory of you talking to him about that before, that you wanted to stop the pill and switch to something else, "Okay...So what's wrong? Oh, is it the cramping? I've heard that the procedure can cause bad cramps for a few hours after."

"It can," you said, "But that's not what's happening. In fact, they didn't even do the procedure."

You knew you were leaving him in suspense, but it wasn't intentional. You simply couldn't get the words out, for the fear of upending everything.

Jimin craned his neck forward in an attempt to follow your averting eyes, "Why?"

A tear rolled down your cheek, "Because they couldn't, Jimin. Before going through with it, I was asked all these questions. A-And I answered them all truthfully. I told the doctor that there had been recent unprotected sex and she tested me. And..."

It was so far outside the realm of what he could have foreseen that he didn't get it, "And?"

You didn't say anything, but you looked back at his face. He could see your glistening, tear-filled eyes, and that's when the seed was planted.

His dark brown eyes widened as he realized what you were implying, but he didn't want to believe it, "Y/N, you're not..."

A small sob escaped you as your posture shrunk, "I am."

Now Jimin was the one that was frozen, lips parted slightly. This lasted for a few seconds before he got up from the sofa, running his hands over his face and back through his hair. His back was to you and you heard him mutter a cuss word or two.

When he turned back around, his features weren't quite as soft. He appeared disappointed, maybe even aggravated, "How could this happen? It was just that one time, and you said it couldn't happen that day."

You felt so small, "I-I don't know. I really thought it wasn't possible but evidently, I was wrong. I'm sorry."

He put a hand over his eyes again and let out an anxious huff. Then his hand slid down to his nose, pinching its bridge. The brows that sat above were furrowed, "It doesn't matter anyway. It's not like this is all on you. We both should have known better."

You cleared your throat and wiped away your tears. This had to be an adult conversation, "So what should we do?"

"I don't know," he said, "What do you want to do?"

As emotionally spent as you were, you still had room to protest, "If this isn't all on me, then please don't make this entirely my decision. I can't handle that kind of pressure right now. This is my body, but it's our...our child."

Our child.

Those two simple words struck a cord somewhere inside Jimin. He felt them deep down. It wasn't at all what he planned, and he had no idea how it would work, but maybe it would be alright.

Jimin returned to your side. He brought you into his arms and you accepted the comfort. His lips planted a kiss on your head, "If it's what you want, I'll be there for you. I think we could do it, baby."

You pulled apart from him, "W-What?"

He cupped your cheeks gently and offered a small smile, "Maybe I'm just exhausted from today's work and I'm not thinking straight, but I feel like we could do it. Don't you? I have more than enough resources, and I've built enough rapport with the company that I'm sure I could take off more days."

You were shaking your head, removing his hands from your face and holding them in your lap, "Jimin, think about it. Having a baby doesn't just require money and time. I mean, think about what it would do to your career as a whole, your entire future. Besides, it would mean you and I would be involved with each other forever. We haven't even figured out what we are yet."

"I think we've figured out that we are something pretty damn good," he leaned down to kiss both of your hands, holding your wrists with a loose grip, "Y/N, I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. All I'm saying is I believe that this, our relationship, is strong enough. I'm terrified too, but when I think about doing it with you, it just makes a little more sense."

You got up and began to pace, "I appreciate that you're trying to be optimistic, but there are real obstacles here. You can't have a secret relationship and a secret child. If we do this, we have to tell the company at some point. I mean, I guess I could lie about who the father is for as long as I can, but what would happen after the baby gets here? Would we keep up the act even then?"

Jimin sat with his elbows propped on his knees and thought about it for a moment, "I understand why you're worried, but I still think we can figure it out. There are lots of celebrities nowadays who don't disclose publicly about their children until after they're born. That gives us plenty of time to plan out an announcement of some sort with the company."

"And even if we did that," you let out a defeated sigh, "I would get fired."

His face fell. That policy never seemed so vapid. He knew how much you loved your job, and how good you were at it, "Maybe there's a loophole somewhere. Or maybe I could persuade them against that."

You sort of laughed at the insanity of it all, "If we were both idols maybe they'd be more willing to bend the rules. They wouldn't denigrate the standard for just another employee, and I have a feeling they'd be pissed. This isn't just an employee dating another employee, Jimin. It's one of their biggest stars with a stylist. That carries scandal with it, especially when you add a pregnancy."

Both of you were silent now. The full weight of the circumstances sank down into your bodies. Jimin rose from his seat, "I need some water. Would you like anything?"

You shrugged, "Water would be good."

As he took his leave to head into the kitchen, you huffed and removed your jacket. Hanging it over the back of his chaise lounge, you glanced at your work tote. Visible from the opening was the tip of one of those pamphlets Doctor Baek gave you.

Lazily, you went and sat back down at your original spot on the sofa, picking up the paper tri-fold between your fingers. It was a general overview of the stages of fetal development, week by week. Opening it, you searched for the five-week mark. It said that at this time, the fetus was just starting to develop a face, heart, brain, and spinal cord.

It was wild to you that your body had been at work all that time without you knowing, slowly building a new person.

You scanned the rest of the pamphlet quickly. If you read it all, you'd be overwhelmed by all the information. On the back cover, there was a photo of a happy couple, both with their hands resting on the woman's belly. When you imagined that being you and Jimin, your heart fluttered. If only neither of you had these careers, you would probably want to go for it.

That's when you started to feel contradicted. You realized you weren't opposed to having a child with this man - your conflict was with outside influences that neither of you could control.

Jimin returned with two glasses of water. His gait slowed when he noticed that you were preoccupied with reading, curious to know what the paper in your hand was.

"Thanks." You said as you took one of the glasses.

"Of course," he replied, though his focus was clearly on the pamphlet, "What's that?"

You gave it to him, "The doctor gave it to me. Just some little thing about pregnancy."

"Ah." He muttered, taking a sip of his water. You scooted over so he could sit next to you again. Then he set the glass down on the coffee table and looked at the material, "Where do you fall on this timeline?"

"Oh," you inched even closer, leaning over the paper to point it out to him, "Right here. Five weeks."

Jimin read the short sentences about that stage and cracked a half smile, which evolved into a chuckle, "It says the baby is the size of a sesame seed."

You couldn't understand him, but for some reason his grin was rubbing off on you, "Why is that so funny?"

His joviality didn't let up, "It's not really, it's just...we eat sesame seeds all the time. It's weird to think that we all start out that tiny."

You concurred, smile growing further, "I guess that is pretty weird."

His collected demeanor eased your nerves, and you started to let it sink in. Your heart gravitated to him more with every moment you had spent with him. He'd be a loving father, there was no doubt about that. There was still the issue of your job being on the line, and a slew of other problems that could arise, but perhaps he was right. Maybe you could do this.

You searched his face again to try to get a read on how he was feeling, but he was too busy soaking in all the information in front of him. Clearing your throat, you pointed to the six-week mark, "Next week it will be a pomegranate seed, see?"

Jimin's eyes found yours, puzzled at your more relaxed cadence. When he saw a certain degree of acceptance in your features, he grinned again, taking your hand in his. Then he went back to the pamphlet, "And look, seven weeks is a grape. There seems to be a pattern of food comparisons."

You giggled, "All the way up to forty weeks, the size of a pumpkin."

He laughed too, his genial presentation fading back into a gentle smile shortly after, "I...I want to do this."

Your gut was pulling you in the same direction now. You needed to hear him say it again, perhaps so that you felt confident enough to voice your agreement, "You do?"

The culmination of his feelings for you and the situation finally made it all so clear. It was the right moment.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your chest thumped, eyes getting rounder, "W-What?"

Neither of you had said it yet, for the mutual trepidation that to be too seriously involved would lead to a mess. But to hell with it - the mess was already here.

Jimin's eyes were beaming, "You walked into the studio that one day and I haven't been the same since. You and I have been so concerned with people finding out about us, and I think it made me forget that it's okay to acknowledge my real feelings for you. It's clear to me now that I've been in love with you for months. I mean, this can't be a big surprise, can it?"

You were smiling through tears, "No, it's not a surprise. I just got so comfortable going the way we were that I let go of the expectation to hear it. But I love you too, Jimin."

He pulled you in for a sweet, long kiss. This moment was something you didn't know you wanted, but you welcomed it as if you'd been starving for it. Finally, some clarity on where you both stood - Park Jimin loved you, and you loved him.

You both drew apart, his right hand falling from your chin to your hip. This wasn't out of the ordinary, for him to casually touch you there, but this time he looked down at his hand. He moved it a few inches to the left, right over your lower abdomen. There was no bump to be seen, but his child was still there, the size of a sesame seed.

His voice sounded so sincere, "And I always knew I wanted a family at some point down the line. Sitting here right now, I couldn't picture it with anyone but you."

A twinkle brightened your face, "Neither could I."

His returned smile reached his eyes, "Does that mean we're going to have a baby?"

You nodded in utter disbelief of yourself, "We're going to have a baby."

A chuckle escaped him as his head dipped down, the grin on his face widening, "Oh my God, I'm going to be a dad."

The assurance brought to you by this small glimmer of excitement made all the difference. You were going to be a parent with the man who made you happier than anyone in the world. You were going to be a little family. Any strife and worries could be dealt with tomorrow. For tonight, you could simply be present with him and focus on the good.

[twistedwonderlandwriting]

Fragments of Loyalty

-Bound by ruin

.......................................

Wordcount:1,151 |readerx:Malleus|Style:Angst

Warnings⚠️:Angst,Blood,Injury Mentions of death

.......................................

Blurriness

The only thing in his vision. Malleus Draconia could never ever remember feeling this pounding this in his head like someone had grabbed him by his horns and repeatedly slammed his head against a indestructible force.

Was this what pain felt like?

The fae blinked to clear his vision, from whatever had been faltering it. Though as soon as the light refraction processed in his mind and displayed the image of his surroundings he winced, wishing that he was blind.

All that was left of Diasomnia was its ruins, quite litterally, most of the walls having been knocked over. His ears picked up a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the surrounding area. The beaten, bruised, and fatigued bodies of his peers littered amongst the rubble. The only people standing amongst his ruin being the housewardens and vice housewardens, though even that was shaky with most of them being on the verge of collaps with the rest leaning against their familiars. No one attempted to move, it was if all had turned into a crumbling tower.

The air was filled with tension, all eyes were on him...it was not a look that the male was unfamiliar with. They looked at him like he was a monster...but why? He was doing it for all of them. Didn't they understand he did all this for their benefit. Malleus took a micro step forward and he could see their visibly tense hunched over bodies straighten out. He didn't care though, completely unfazed by their fearful behavior. It was expected from the crowd. He immediately began scanning the crowd once more looking for the spark to this forest fire, his green eyes gazing across the mass of beating hearts pupils narrowed into snake or rather dragon like slits that shook all he glanced at the the very core, a sigh of relief passing through them as he moved on.

Cowards, all of them.

Eventually they landed on a familiar group at the forefront of the ruins, the three battered and bruised as the rest of them. The silver haired male stood in a guarding position in his hand lying his magic pen that was tightly gripped ready to cast a spell at a moments notice, next to appeared to be sebek. The spiky haired male looking not at him but and down to the side with a unusual amount of concern considering this was not something involving his lord. Tears appeared to be swelling in his eyed and the half fae seemed to be frantic and panicked. Following his eyes Malleus would find whatever sebek was looking at covered from his view by someone crouching in front. At second glance the figure appeared to be kneeling rather then crouched, the most noticeable feature immediately from the back being his black and magenta choppy hair.

He stepped forward having found what he had been looking for, caring not that the others readied themselves, their most powerful spells on standby. The heels of his boots clicked against the floor with each quick step twords the trio, his eyes locked onto the short fae.

Protect them. Keep them safe. Keep them from leaving.

When he was within 5 feet of his family Malleus broke his narrowed in stare at lilia, glancing to back at eye level freezing in his step his eyes widening in suprise at silver staing directly at Malleus his magic pen drawn pointed directly at his face. Hearing nothing but shifting of rubble and heavy breathing he looked over to where sebek previously stood finding no one he glanced back down at lilia to expecting some sort of reaction to find Sebek now kneeling where he previously stood now hovering and fretting over whatever has Lilias attention as well muttering something, only every other word being audible.

"Stupid human.......weak.......feeble........stupid....... waka-sama......better not die..... dont have time...attend the funeral...dont make me"

Glancing back to his other retainer that currently had his weapon pointed at him, his face was no longer unreadable now having a firm express with his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips turned downwards. A silent message to not take another step.

His eyes narrowed at the retainer for a moment, his lips turning downwards, every fiber of the fae wished to stubbornly continue on his path. Though instead he stood in place out of respect for the boy he had watched grow.

For Lilia.

At the thought of Him he turned his gaze back to the two kneeling over something, the action finally catching his attention making Malleus wonder what exactly Sebek was fretting over and lilia was turned twords. He stepped forward, the warning silver gave him completely cast aside, the step taking him just close enough that he could use his height to look over the two.

His eyes were drawn to the dark red substance dripping from a gash on lilias forehead, following the drip down to below his eyebrow right above his eye on his eyelid, but despite how close the metallic liquid was to his eye the former war general was completely unbothered his eyes full of determination and focus with a small flash of panic and concern passing through his composure that only one that had lived a hundred lifes and a thousand tragedies could maintain. His eyes locked onto the thing in front of him.

What could capture his attention so?

His eyes drifted down before landing on said object of attention. His eyes widened as he immediately recognized the person the two were crouching over. You were beaten badly every inch covered in blood, dirt, scratches, cuts, and dark purple and blue bruises the type that constantly ache. His eyed jumped from bruise to cut before landing on their head that lilia was holding between his hands, the dark red substance pouring out of your head soaking you hair in the metallic odor, their blood pooling on the floor.

"Child of Man" He gasped before rapidly approaching the group that was surrounding you preparing to drop to his knees next to his friend and hold them. He didn't care if he needed to snatched them out of hid mentors hands himself he just couldn't bear letting anyone near them so vunerable needing to heal them and quickly. He could not loose his only friend.

Sensing Malleus the fae whipped around and drew his magic pen prepared to strike down the boy he mentored if need be to keep everyone safe. His gaze burning holes into the boy. Besides lilia Sebek seeing his mentors action he quickly scooped your body into his lap cradding it against him with one arm, resting his hand on your head gently muttering every healing spell that he knew magic pen in hand prepared to turn it against Malleus if need be.

They were not letting him near you.

[greengoblinswifey]

Hope— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you and Nicholas Chavez were deeply in love during high school, but he broke up with you to pursue his acting dreams in LA, promising to come back for you. after years of lost contact and watching him achieve fame, you held on to his promise but when you reconnect, it doesn’t go how you hoped.

warnings— mentions of sex, heartbreak, rejection, angst.

a/n— requests are wide open like my legs for nicholas <3

When Nicholas first told you he’d been cast in General Hospital, the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “I’m finally doing it,” he’d said, eyes bright with excitement. “I’m really going to be on TV, and I want you to be proud of me. This is everything we dreamed about.”

You had hugged him tightly, trying to ignore the growing ache in your heart. “I am proud of you,” you murmured. “You know that.”

But the day he left, he’d pulled you into one last embrace, whispering, “This isn’t goodbye, okay? When you’re done with college, I’ll come back, or maybe we’ll find each other along the way. I just- I don’t want to hold you back. If you love someone, you have to let them be free.”

Your heart had broken in a thousand pieces that day, but you nodded, trying to be strong. “I’d wait forever if it meant we’d end up together, you know that?”

You watched him rise to fame from afar, earning new roles in Netflix shows, your heart swelling with pride each time he’d land a new one, even while missing him was a constant ache.

You moved to Los Angeles after college to live with your sister, a film producer, hoping maybe fate had plans for you and Nicholas to cross paths again. Memories flooded back, late nights spent tangled up in each other's arms, your first nervous kiss under the stars, and promises you’d whispered about the future you’d planned together.

Now, years later in LA, you could hardly believe it when you saw his message pop up on your phone. “Hey, it’s been a while., I miss you.” And then, the message you’d been hoping for, “Wait, you’re in LA too? Let me take you out to dinner.”

When you finally met up, it was as if no time had passed. He hugged you tightly, his familiar scent bringing back a rush of memories. “You’re really here,” he said softly, looking at you like he couldn’t believe it.

You laughed, trying to hold back tears. “Of course I’m here. Did you think I’d forget about you?”

He shook his head, his hand finding yours. “I hoped you wouldn’t. You know, every role, every award, I kept wishing I could share it all with you.”

As he drove you to his mansion, you couldn’t help but marvel at the life he’d built for himself. “I can’t believe this is yours,” you said, glancing around at the luxury surrounding you. “You really made it.”

He smiled, that charming grin you remembered so well. “All those late nights paid off. But you know what? None of this means anything without you.” Your heart fluttered at his words.

That night was incredible. The two of you slipped back into the rhythm of amazing sex as if no time had passed, and you reveled in the warmth of being together again. But after the passion faded, something felt off. He didn’t cuddle you and clean you up like he used to. Instead, he said, “I’ll call you an Uber. I’ve got an early call time.”

Your heart sank. “You’re not gonna make me stay?”

“Not tonight. I really have to be up early.” Reluctantly, you gathered your things and left, confusion swirling in your mind. As you sat in the back of the Uber, that strange feeling gnawed at you, but you tried to shake it off.

Days passed without a word from him. “Maybe he’s just busy,” you told yourself, but deep down, you felt your heart shatter all over again.

Then came the day your sister invited you to the set of her new film. Eager to see her in action, you put on a brave face and headed to the studio. As you walked around the set, a familiar laugh caught your attention, and you turned to see Nicholas. Your heart leapt, but just as quickly, it plummeted when you saw him passionately making out with a girl, his hands all over her in the same way he’d touched you just nights before.

The sight felt like a dagger to your heart. Anger and sadness surged through you, but walked over to confront him after the girl left.

“Nicholas!” you shouted, breathless with rage and heartbreak.

He turned, looking startled. “Hey! I—”

“Save it. What was that?” You pointed at the spot where he’d just been. “You ghost me, and then I see you making out with some girl?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “I’m sorry. We broke up for a couple of hours. I was sad and lonely. I was going to text you, but it just, it didn’t feel right.”

“Didn’t feel right?” You shook your head in disbelief. “I loved you, Nicholas. I waited for you, and then you just use me and move on?”

He stepped closer, desperation in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really wanted to reach out. It’s just, things got complicated.”

“Complicated?” you echoed, voice rising. “You think it’s complicated for me? I loved you for years, and I gave you everything! You used me and discarded me!”

He sighed, looking genuinely regretful. “I know I messed up. I just didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“Too late for that.” You turned away, fighting back tears.

The pain of watching him walk away was like a weight pressing down on your chest. You had thought this time would be different, but it felt like the end of the line all over again.

That night, your phone buzzed with a message from Nicholas. Your heart raced, but as you opened it, anger surged through you. “Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier. I’ve been seeing someone since I got to LA, and I didn’t mean for things to get complicated.”

You stared at the screen, disbelief and rage colliding within you. “Complicated?” you typed back, your fingers shaking. “You think this is complicated for you? You just used me, Nicholas. You broke my heart and then moved on like I was nothing.”

His reply was quick. “I never meant to hurt you. You have to understand, this is all new to me. The fame, the attention.”

“So, what? You just replace me with someone else? I turned down so many guys for YOU. I waited for you.” The hurt in your voice echoed in your mind as you pressed send.

“I thought we could pick up where we left off. I didn’t mean to lead you on.” His words felt like daggers.

“You didn’t lead me on? You fucked me, sent me home then ghosted me! I loved you for years, and you just tossed that aside?” Your heart raced as you read his response.

“I didn’t know how to handle it! I thought you’d moved on too,” he replied, sounding desperate now.

“You fucking idiot I didn’t, and if I did I wouldn’t have fucked you. I thought we had something real. But clearly, it wasn’t the same for you.” You felt tears welling up as the pain of betrayal washed over you.

“It was real for me, too. I just got scared.”

“Scared? Scared of what? Being with me? You’ve built a whole new life, and I’m just some girl from your past?” The hurt in your words made your chest ache.

There was a long pause before he replied. “You’re more than that. You always will be. But I can’t change what I’ve done.”

“Then don’t contact me again,” you typed, your heart breaking as you hit send.

“Wait, please don’t say that Y/N.”

But you didn’t reply. You tossed your phone aside, burying your face in your hands as the reality of the situation crashed over you. How could you have been so blind? He was living a dream, while you were left with hope.

You felt lost and unsure of how to move on, but you knew you had to. “I’m done with this,” you whispered to yourself, wiping away the tears. “l’ll move on. I will be okay.” It would take time, but you were determined to reclaim your heart, even if it felt impossible right now.

As the weeks passed, you focused on picking up the pieces of your heart, throwing yourself into your role as your sister’s assistant on set. Every day, you watched Nicholas interact with his new girlfriend, a co-star in the movie. They laughed, kissed, and shared intimate moments, and it took everything in you to maintain a brave face. Inside, your heart ached with memories of what you once shared with him.

On a particularly tough day, you overheard Nicholas talking to his girlfriend in the trailer, laughing at a joke you had once told him. You turned away, willing yourself not to cry. “I’m not going to let him see me sad,” you whispered under your breath, reminding yourself of how far you had come.

Despite the lingering feelings, you knew deep down that he wasn’t your one. Yes, he was your first love, your first everything, and the promises you made felt real, but it was time to let go. Eventually, you met someone amazing, a man who understood you and made you feel cherished in ways you never thought possible. When he proposed, it felt like the culmination of everything you had dreamed of, and you said yes without hesitation.

The day you announced your engagement on Instagram was one of the happiest of your life. You couldn't help but smile as you posted a picture of your ring, the caption reading, “Forever starts now.”

But then, the unexpected happened. Nicholas saw your post and immediately sent it to you and replied, “Can we meet for coffee? I need to talk to you.”

You hesitated, anger and hurt mixing with the memories of the past. “There’s nothing to talk about, Nicholas. If you have something to say, text it.”

He was quick to respond. “I’m so sorry. You’re my one. I wish I had waited for you. I miss you. No one compares.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s too late for that. I’m getting married. You had your chance, and I’ll never give you the opportunity to hurt me again.”

You felt a surge of empowerment as you hit send, but a small part of you felt a twinge of sadness for what could have been. With that, he responded but you ghosted him, just like he had ghosted you before, leaving him to reflect on what he lost.

A few months later, news broke that Nicholas and his girlfriend had split. You were blissfully happy in your marriage, surrounded by love and support from your husband and family. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that you had moved on and found your true happiness.

As you looked back at the heartache of your past, you felt gratitude for the lessons learned. You had finally moved on, and this time, it felt right.

[serxinns]

Ok sorry if I'm taking up some time but something related to a picture I saw has literally been on my mind and I need some sorta short fanfic about it 😭

So basically, Yandere Fantasy AU Bakusquad where they are all dragons (Except Bakugou being a Barbarian) and a traveler reader who is incredibly hurt so is under the care of them all.

I mainly want this because I recently broke my wrist (which is now healed up) and idk 😭🙏

The Lost Traveler

Yandere! fantasy Bakusquad x gn! reader

A/n: I kinda went off on this onw hehe but I hope it was worth the wait! I hope you enjoy!

Tw!⚠️: injuries, reader getting hurt, weapons, drowning, possessive and obsessive behavior, stripping off clothes (in a non sexual way ofc) nudity (if you count reader being in their undergarments, yandere behavior, and more don't read if you can't handle it

"After them!" You heard a man yell out to his group as they chased you, but you didn't look back you didn't want to look back your main priority was safety you looked around the woods to see if there was any hiding spot but to no avail, the men kept shooting their arrows towards you as you barely dodged them. You held on to your bag tightly you didn't know how you had come to this conclusion you just went into town trying to grab some things and these men tried to rob your mother's spellbook so you kicked one of them in the groin he released you from his grasp and you continued to run

"I got this" one of the men grabbed their bow and arrow, your eyes widened in horror as he aimed for your leg and you were getting ready to dodge untill a sharp pain hit you in your upper leg you screamed in agony and dropped to the floor clutching your foot the bandits all surrounded you chucking you grabbed the book tightly not wanting those monsters getting it

"Now, now, brat, why don't you be smart and give us the book, and we'll let you go"gt.he man had a devious grin on his facfaceu spat at him, "fuck you, you'll have to kill me 1st!" The bandits snicker and laughed "Very well then.." one of the men got a weapon and held itches towards your neck your eyes widen trying to squirm off from his grasp but he pinned you against the tree hard with a final attempt you kicked him in the groin with ur shoe his grasp became loose as he howled in pain now clutching his area kneeling, "you little shit..." the crew all held their swords at you you the began crawling backward with the book praying they'll be someone to protect you

You then began to slip on something; you quickly looked behind you to see a waterfall right behind you, you gasped, wanting to crawl back, but the bandits were in front. You were at a dead end "Nowhere, the run, little shit, just give us the book!" He sneered, you had to act fast for you and the book, you look at the waterfall again hesitant you began crawling closer and closer waterfall until you felt the cliff and the loud crashing water beneath you, one of the bandits snicker th t up to what you were about to do "don't do anything stupid ya hear just give us the damn book!" He shouted you looked at him with one last glare and let your whole body go holding the book tight while you fall

You closed your eyes ready for the impact and pain, you landed in the roaring water you desperately tried gasping for air using your good arm to swim back up for air but it'd currents were too strong you tried grabbing some sort of branch or rock but kept crashing into them hard your body began to feel tired and ur eyes droopy from all the pain and energy "is this how I die.." you thought as you slowly close your eyes surrendering to the wrath of the water as they took you

...

"Aha! Gotcha!" The dragon yelled as she caught a fish with her claws she examined the fish making sure it was big enough for her friends and place it in the bucket her stomach growled in hunger she looked down and then looked at the fish, "..one fish wouldn't hurt" mina looked both ways and all around when the coast was clear she grabbed a small fish and was about toneat until a voice called her "Pink scales you better not be eating our dinner like shitty scales!" The Man said angrily, "Ughh bakugo, it was just gonna be one!" Mina whined as she reluctantly dropped the fish

"One less of our dinner!" He scolded, taking the bucket and carrying it with him. "Plus, it looked like you already had some!" He looked at her with a hard glare as she smiled sheepishly the barbarian was about to yell at her until he spotted something floating in the water he shoved the dragon away to view it closer he realized that it was a human being floating around in the river katsuki quickly went in the river not caring about hid clothes getting dragging the human out of the water "it's that a human?! Are they breathing?" She shrieked looking worriedly and concerned

Katsuki then felt the human skin it was cold..katsuki then led his head toward its chest the heart was still beating but it was barely breathing.."Mina take the human to our cottage.." he ordered Mina nodded and quickly placed you on her back and transformed into her dragon form katsuki then hopped on her back and signaled her to fly, she then carefully launched into the air making sure nobody falls then soared through the sky

As they were soaring, Katsuki took the time to examine you; it seemed like you were not from here but maybe from another region judging by your clothes, and he didn't mention it, but there was a book in the human's hands. He observed it closely. It seemed like it was from a powerful being..but he didn't know where it was from, until then he may have to keep it for a while just in case for safety

Mina roared making Katsuki snap out of his thoughts when he looked up he realized that they were home he grabbed you and jumped off Mina while steam came out of her turning her back into her human form they carried the human to the house and placing them on the couch "Mina take off through clothes and check for bruises" Mina nodded she carefully took off your closes leaving you with only your undergarments on she blushed a but reminded herself to focus, the poor human was covered in red and purple bruises and had a broken wrist Mina gaze soften feeling pity for then poor human

"The human has a bunch of bruises and a broken wrist" Bakugo scoffed "that probably gonna take half of my healing power so I'm only gonna heal them on certain areas and patch up the others letting them heal themselves" bakugo then let Mina carry the unconscious human to give them a warm bath, bathing off the dirt and gunk in their hair and gently handling them with the best of her abilities the most she saw the bruises the more angrier she seems how dare someone could do this to a precious little thing when she was done she quickly wrapped them up in a towel and carry them in the bedroom where there were already a set of warm clothes for them to wear..

....

You were panicking all you could see was black you couldn't move your body it was like you were wrapped in something, it was suffocating, you tried to scream but you couldn't hear your own voice nor you couldn't hear anything just emptyness and eerie silence, you wanted to get out of here you wanted to see if you have that spellbook you wanted to survive, are you even alive anymore?! You were breathing rapidly wondering what did you do you be in this hell

Then a soft humming rang in your ear it sounded...familiar like something your mother would do to comfort you when you were feeling ill or had a very bad day, the humming made you calm..peaceful even, your panicking began to die down as well as your breathing you squirm around trying to break free from whoever or whatever is trapping you but to no avail, then saw some light in your vision it became bigger and lighter...

You slowly opened your eyes, all you could see was a blurry red figure hovering over you humming the same tune you heard back there you blinked a couple of times to get your vision more clear, and there standing above you was a boy with red scales forming on his shoulders and large pointy like horns with red eyes staring the back at you, with a yelped you tried squirming away but her strong hands were keeping you still "Please don't struggle your weak at the moment" he said petting your hair softly trying to calm you down

"Where am i.." the red hair chuckled as if that was a silly question to ask "your home can't you tell?" He answered softly as he continued to hum confused you were about to ask what did he mean by that untill another voice could be heard "did the human wake up yet" there revealed a another dragon with blonde hair and a black lighting strike on he turned his attention towards you and his eyes brighten "they're so small!" He has as he poked your cheeks curiously wanting to feel what a human skin felt like "they're also soft as well!" He giggled happily the red haired dragon quickly swat his friends hand away as the dragon whined

"They're still healing Kaminari be gentle!" Kiri scolded him The yellow dragon softly glared at him jealous from the red dragon hogging you "would you stop fighting infront them? the poor thing is barely gaining conscious" there appeared a dragon with black hair scolding at the 2 dragons "now come on the foods almost ready" he said as he gaze at you with a soft smile the headed back to the kitchen ok now you were confused who were these people? Why are they're saying this is your new home? Are you going crazy or what

Your thoughts were then interrupted again with Kirishima picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen and plop you down to your chair you awkwardly thanked him as he happily sat down at his spot, that's when smell of the food hit your nostrils it smelled so good you even drooled a bit which you quickly wiped off with your arm embrassed hoping nobody noticed that "heh someone's hungry" the dragon away you assumed to be Sero said smirking at you as your face lit up in embrassament you looked away

"Well I haven't eaten in a few days of course I'm gonna be hungry" you protested as the black dragon chuckled "whatever you say sweets" he shrugged laying against the chair patiently waiting for the meal "dinners ready!" A loud booming voice was heard a blonde male with orange eye "Guess the little shit is awake" he grumbled "Katsuki language! Don't call the human that!" Kirishima scolded katsuki scoffed

"Don't fucking tell me what to do shitty hair you ain't the boss of me!" He said yelled the two started bickering back and forth while Kirishima wrapped his Strong arm around you protectively you tried pushing it off but it seems like he was too busy to noticed or he didn't care "boys stop arguing when our human is awake!" "Yea I bet they're starving right about now!" A purple dark then came in along with a bubbly pink dragon skipping in the kitchen the 2 boys shut themselves up and they then fix yourself and themselves a meal

it was cooked fish with a side of veggies the aroma was addictive making you go wild, fish wasn't always your favorite meal but those last few days of living off of eating berries and small animals this was a actual proper meal for you you devoured the food in seconds not noticing how the others were cooing and just adoring how cute you were, after the meal you were about to head yourself out grabbing your spellbook and thanking the kind people for the care untill a hand grabbed you by the shoulder

"And where the fuck are you going?" Bakugo said with a stern tone "Uh I'm going out I need to get back home" "in this condition? Your still hurt pumpkin no way we're gonna let you go out exposing yourself to the dangers" you didn't noticed jirou infront of the door now everyone else gathered around you looking weirdly at you...

"Why don't you stay for a few nights atleast untill your injuries healed!" Kirishima suggested you thought about it for a moment the trip back home would take rather long considering that you barely even know your way back they then carried you off to their bed all cuddling next to you

You were their human now you were a gift for them and them only those monsters are gonna pay for what they done to their little darling~

[biblicallyaccuratebrainrot]

Family Reunion; Part II

Dad!Stanford Pines x GN!Reader (familial)

After spending three decades to get your dad back, you find yourself in more grief than when you first lost him.

CW: Negligence, emotional distress, not proof-read

"Who are you?"

Three words that managed to take the form of a dagger and stab you right in the heart. You stopped dead in your tracks-- the breath in your chest never seeming to be relieved. It escaped in uneven bumps and a quiet gasp. You could barely process Stan grabbing Ford by the shoulders, shaking him, yelling at him. The kids rushed to Stan, and the stranger they'd yet to be introduced to, in hopes of ending the aggressive exchange.

A slow and gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder. You looked at Soos, who held a pitiful expression. Ford and Stan had stopped fighting-- the prior having slowly walked to you. You stared at him and expressed the pain caused by his question in your face. The tears of joy had quickly become tears of grief.

"I-- I'm sorry, [Y/N]," an apology-- but not a nickname of the many he'd assigned to you as a child. "I didn't realise-- you've grown up so much. For a moment, I forgot I wouldn't be coming back to my little kid,"

That was enough for you. You wanted to throw your hands at him and embrace him until he felt the lack of breath you'd been feeling. You twitched to move-- but stopped and stared down at his hand, which was extended for a shaking.

"Wh--?" You breathed out.

"--It's-- it's nice to see you again," Ford stated. "I hope we can rebuild our... relationship,"

That handshake invaded your mind. Escaping the basement-- the warmth of the shake slowly escaped your skin. Taking the kids to bed while Ford and Stan discussed the plan for the summer-- pins and needles repeatedly stabbed your hand and flexed your fingers. You wiped your hand on your pants, hoping to remove the experience.

"[Y/N]," Dipper broke the trance, "are you okay? You look... really, really distracted,"

"Huh? What makes you say that?" You tried to play it off.

"You walked us to the other side of the shack instead of the attic," Dipper pointed out.

"Oh,"

"Oh my gosh!" Mabel exclaimed. "You're our cousin! I just realised! This is so awesome!"

You chuckled. "Yeah-- I guess, now, there's no use in keepin' the cat in the bag,"

You redirected the kids and focused on getting them to their room. "It's official now," Mabel began, "you're the coolest cousin ever, [Y/N],"

"Well, you guys are my favourite cousins," you said. "Say, ah, could you two get yourself to bed? I-- I want to, uh--,"

"--We understand," Dipper interrupted. "We'll get ourselves to the attic,"

You smiled at the two and they returned it before rushing off to the steps of their room. You take a deep breath and begin to slowly walk towards Ford's old room-- well, suppose it was going to be re-established as his room again.

You stopped and watched as Stan stormed out. His face was contorted with anger for a moment before his eyes landed on you. He relaxed and sighed.

"S-sorry kid," he stated. "Me n' Sixer pro'lly won't get along, ever. But, we're brothers! That sort'a thing always happens." He placed his hands on your shoulders. "Don't stress too much, you're his kid. You got this,"

You took in a deep and shaky breath. "Wh-- what if he doesn' want nothin' to do with me?" You began to cry. "I'm his kid, but I'm not a kid any more. What sort'a bonding are we s'posed to do!"

"Hey! What did I just say?" Stan stared at you sternly. "Don't stress it! You two will find a way-- you have to!"

You sniffled and wiped your tears on your shirt. "You're right," you croak. "Okay. You can go back to being grumpy-- this emotional stuff is freakin' me out," you joked.

Stan smiled and chuckled. "Don't gotta tell me twice!"

You two parted ways. You took in a more steady and confident breath of air before appearing in the doorway of Ford's room. You made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. He paused his movements to process you before he turned awkwardly to properly face you.

"[Y/N]," his volume was low. "H--uh, how.. are you-- how are you doing?"

You lock your hands behind your back and take careful steps into the room. "I-- I am, okay," you respond. "How are... you?"

"I've been worse," Ford chuckled. "I'm not stuck fighting for my life in another dimension-- so, that's a plus,"

"Cool, cool." You bob your head. "Uh-- well, th--this is--? This is weird, right?"

Ford smiled and approached you. "Ah, yes, I was hoping you'd say something," you almost felt relieved with his words. "It's been such a-- a long time since we've seen each other. I've missed... everything,"

"Right! So-- so we should--!"

"--I will make it up to you!"

You froze in place. Your eyes darted around a moment. "What?"

"Holidays, birthdays, life events," Ford listed happily. "How old are you?"

"Uh--? I-I'm 38-- why--?"

"Well, the numbers for the cake of course!" Ford laughed, turning back to the mirror. "We'll celebrate what we missed-- when I have time, of course,"

"Ah--?" The words were still stewing. "Y-ya'know I-- I was thinkin' maybe we could just... what do you mean, when you have time?"

"There's a lot of clean-up to be done since the portal was re-opened," Ford explained. "Not just the pieces of the portal in the basement-- but the fabrics of reality!"

"W-Well, okay, yeah-- I knew there'd be, ah, consequences with the whole portal thing," you tried to be understanding. "But-- but, I don't think we need to celebrate anythin'-- can we just, talk?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" This time the words cut you right in the throat. The immediate aggressive response that came to mind never made it to tongue. "How are we supposed to bond over a simple meeting? Trust me, [Y/N], we'll be father-child bonding in no time!"

Rather than blood spill from your throat, everything you wanted to say went to the floor. You stared at his reflection in the mirror, jaw-dropped. He was still wearing his cheery smile while adjusting his jacket and turtleneck. Your hands had brought themselves forward and your fingers twisted into one another.

"Sure." You croak and turned away.

You found yourself fleeing the room. Quick steps dragging the rest of you out of there like there was an immediate danger to be avoided. Your thoughts raced through your mind in a similar manner. Every way that interaction could have gone-- everything you could have said-- everything you didn't say-- and worse of all; everything he didn't say.

A million questions were asked in your mind while you jammed your fingers into the vending machine keypad. Each step answered a question but left a thousand more in its wake.

You released a deep breath as you fell down onto your hammock bed. Every thought and question stored and thrown around your mind was released with that breath. A silence only broken by the ringing in your own ear.

You brought your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your knees. As far as anyone knew, the silence in the basement was never disturbed. Not by the loud creaking of the vending machine door, not by the loud steps being used, not by the sound of the hammock nor the deep sigh, and certainly not by the sounds of suppressed sobs.

______________

》 END

[gothamite-rambler]

A Mother’s Voice (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

A/N: Just a fun twist – I made Crystal an Irish Catholic woman. She’s not working for Cluemaster, and while she wasn’t always there for Stephanie growing up, she’s present now and knows her daughter is Spoiler. I haven’t included the part about Stephanie having a baby yet; sorry for that!

Spoiler stood before the hulking figure of Bane, surrounded by the chaos of her family battling Arkham’s notorious criminals. Fatigue weighed on her limbs, the pain radiating through her body palpable as blood trickled from her nose. Trembling, she felt the creeping edge of surrender.

Spoiler (weakly, muttering): Dang it... I can't keep going.

Just then, a voice broke through her comms—one that wasn’t Oracle.

Crystal: Stephanie, darling?

Spoiler: M-Ma?

Crystal (her Irish accent unmistakable): That’s me. No need to pretend. I figured out ye were Spoiler years ago. I worried about ye, until I remembered one thing. Ye're my daughter.

Spoiler (dodging a punch from Bane): Ma, leave! You don’t want to hear me lose.

Bane (mocking Spoiler and unaware she's alive): Talking to your mother in the sky won't save you.

Crystal (firmly): Stephanie Bridget Brown, I may not have raised ye as I should have, but I've seen the strength you've found. This isn't ye givin' up—ye fought to get here!

Spoiler (voice wavering): But I—

Batman: Oracle, why is there a civilian in there with you?

Crystal (shouting): Ah, pipe down, Batman, or I’ll give ye a one-two! I’m talkin’ to Spoiler, not ye!

Batman (not wanting to anger the woman): Okay, then. Continue on, person who shouldn’t be on the comms!

Taking a hesitant step back from Bane, Spoiler felt the warmth of her mother’s words wrap around her like a lifeline.

Spoiler (protesting): I can't do this!

Bane loomed menacingly, taunting her to surrender as he approached, his intent clear. Spoiler tried to block out what he was saying as she stood her ground, but her wavering confidence caused her knees to tremble with fear.

Crystal (urgently): Can’t? That’s not the Steph I know! Ye became a hero to spite yer father. Ye’ve donned that mask twice to prove yerself to Batman. Why should this limp-dicked man win?

Spoiler (whispering): He... won't win.

Crystal: Exactly! No man will beat you. An’ my apologies for usin’ the devil's tongue, but stand on yer feet, straighten yer back, prepare yer stance, and get ready to kick arse! Ye were born a fighter! Ye are God's child, gifted by me! I have not seen ya once give up, ya bloody gave me a reason to stay strong. Ye’ve fought worse men—this roided-out wrestler won’t be the one to put ye down!

With a surge of renewed strength, Spoiler stood tall, raising her fist and delivering a crushing blow to Bane, sending him reeling.

Spoiler (determination blazing in her eyes): He won’t win!

Bane (scratching his head): What is happening?

Crystal (encouraging): Aye! Stand on business, and ye will not let Cluemaster, Batman, or any man win! For God says so through me!

Spoiler (shouting): YEAH!

Crystal (proclaiming): AMEN! NOW GO KICK SOME ARSE!

The renewed energy coursed through her, and Spoiler charged into battle, handing Oracle her comm.

With a leap, she soared over Bane, wrapping her arms around his neck. As he tried to seize her, she bit his hand. He swatted her back, but she landed on her feet.

Spoiler (taunting): Come and get me, Nacho Libre!

Bane (angry): I resent that statement!

With a swift spin kick, Spoiler sent him crashing to the ground.

Spoiler: Now, who's the damsel?

She pressed her shoe down on the man’s neck.

Bane: I will not—

Spoiler: Oh, shut up!

With a strong kick, she knocked him unconscious.

Spoiler (ready to take on the next inmate): All right, who's next?!

Charging forward, she took down several foes, with Crystal watching proudly from the sidelines. The Robins observed in stunned silence, partially horrified by the ferocity of the scene unfolding before them.

Crystal (grin): Thanks for invitin’ me, Steph’s friend.

Oracle (unfazed): You snuck in, but it was worth it. I thought you were working for her father.

Crystal (smirk): Not in this canon, love.

With a wave, she stepped away, entered the elevator and left Oracle's secret office.

Oracle: Cool.

Babs placed the earpiece back in her ear and pressed a button.

Oracle: Hey, Batman, Crystal left, and Spoiler didn’t get her back broken like you thought she would.

A groan emanated from Batman, clearly annoyed.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

It’s here!! Not gonna lie I watched the Frontierland episode last night in preparation 😂 And I am so ready to lose myself in Western Dean Winchester. Not to mention ready to rekindle my childhood love of Spirit lol.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

Oh goodness the enemies to lovers is bubbling under the surface and I am already naming Dean and Mila's children.

This chapter really is one of the best scenes in Spirit, not to mention one of my favorite songs in that movie. "Get Off My Back" is legendary.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. "That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.” That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed. “He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

I love her already. I mean I loved her from the moment that I found out she broke that jerk's nose, but a strong defiant woman. Yes ma'am here for Mila 1000000%.

Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

He's already feeling!😏 And I really loved that he fought the smile when she spat in the Colonel's face. Because Dean is already smitten with this woman.

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

I really love this part, when Dean can sympathize with Mila and her people and why they continue to fight. It also really brings together the "realism" in this story. Especially with the "He doesn't always understand their way of doing things..." A lot of people fear what they don't understand and for Dean to have a more "open" outlook even being surrounded by people who don't is refreshing. And now Mila gets to show her all the wonderful things about her and her tribe! He's different and I love him.

I also really liked the background you gave him. His father being in the army and that being the reason why Dean joined, and I can just imagine young Dean and young Sam riding horses and breaking them out on their family farm.

Okay also the fact that Mila calls Dean "Green Eyes" had me literally screaming lol. I was like, "girl I see you and I respect you for noticing how beautiful that man's eyes are."

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Let's go PROTECTIVE DEAN ALERT!

I hope Roman falls off a watchtower and into a giant pile of poop (the size of the ones in Jurassic Park) and then dies. I mean he doesn't... because Dean destroys that man. BUT I hope that they shoveled his body away with the same shovel they use for all the horse poop. It's what the people want lol 😂

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

The descriptions of his hands made me hyperventilate. 😳 I am telling you the trope of a big strong man who has done terrible things with his hands and then is nothing, but gentle with his significant other WIPES ME OUT. Oh stars, I can't take it 😭

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

It's true love and now I'm scared of what's gonna happen to them.

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently. “Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

YOU TURNED BABY INTO A HORSE?! MASTERFUL! GENIUS! Oh my word I was not expecting that, but it made me so happy you have no idea lol.

Again, so happy Roman is gone. Man is a whole problem and Dean is a problem solver lmao 😂

Oh this chapter was absolutely wonderful and it was everything that I expected and SO SO MUCH MORE friend!❤️ Western Dean is quickly infiltrating my subconscious and someone is gonna have to raise Freud from the dead to work this one out for sure. I mean Freud's already gonna have to talk to me about Spirit, but that horse had an energy, it was voiced by Matt Damon, I was young and impressionable, and I can't be held responsible lmao lol😅 (catching myself in 4k)

I can't wait for the next chapter!!😊

The Honorable Choice - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I thought this idea might be a good fit for this @jacklesversebingo prompt.

Disclaimer: I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Racism/racial slurs, attempted sexual assault (not successful), protective Dean, angst, some violence and some action.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Pride & Prejudice

June 1872

Dean hears some of his men shouting, along with the telltale cracking of bone that would make a less seasoned soldier wince. He spares a look to Benny, his Lieutenant, and sets down his glass of whiskey.

Dean’s path takes him brusquely out of his office and toward the stables. He grabs his gun and his hat on the way there, setting the latter on his head.

Is it too much to ask for one night where he can drink in peace?

Dean comes to find a young woman being detained by two of his men, Kline and Novak. Roman sports a bloody nose and his eye is already beginning to swell. The woman fights against their hold.

Even under the pale moonlight, Dean notes the way she’s dressed: a deer skin dress cinched at the waist, over thin pants and shoes. He surveys her tan skin, her black hair that blends into the night, twisted into a long braid, and the anger in her dark eyes.

“What have we got here?” Dean says. He stows his gun in its holster as he approaches her, resting his hands at his belt.

“I caught her breaking into the stables, Captain,” Roman says. He prods with a hiss at his busted nose while trying to stem the bleeding. That’s going to be a bad break.

She remains tight lipped, stubborn. 

“Probably doesn’t even understand English. Savage bitch,” he says. Dean shoots him an impassive look to cover up his annoyance.

“Put a cork in it, Roman,” he orders. Then, he focuses back on her. “You’re a Lakota, aren’t you?”

Aside from their main mission here in the Dakota Territory, the Colonel has been fixed on fighting back against the Lakota Indians, especially after they sabotaged the supply line last month.

The proud tilt of the woman’s chin is her only answer to Dean’s question. Her gaze drags down his form with disdain, like he’s the savage. His mouth twitches mirthlessly. 

“The Lakota rear up their own horses pretty damn well. Why would you want to steal one of ours?” he asks.

She glances away from him, first at her feet, then over at the camp’s latest “guest.” Dean, Benny, and a few of his men wrangled up a horse a few days ago. He’s a beautiful Kiger mustang with a nasty mean streak. He barely got through a trim this afternoon, and almost took a chunk out of Rufus when he tried to brand the horse.

The Colonel ordered them to tie the horse up to a post just outside the corral—no food or water for three days. He’d turned to Dean with a firm set to his face and issued a single order.

“Break him.”

Now, Dean catches the furtive look the Lakota woman gives the horse, who flicks his tail. The animal stares right at her, as if into her eyes.

“Oh, don’t tell me you here for him,” Dean says with a chuckle. “That thing’s a little too much for you, sweetheart.”

That earns her attention, steely and unimpressed.

“He is too much for you,” she says. Her voice is smooth, and would even be pleasant, if not for the circumstances. “He is one of ours. You will never break him.”

Dean's eyes widen a fraction. He glances back at the mustang.

So that's why she's here, he thinks. She's trying to mount a rescue. Dean feels a twinge deep inside, but he can't allow himself to care about that. They've collected a strong horse that will be a good support for their objectives here, once he's broken.

“Ah, well see,” Dean says, tipping his Stetson up to meet her gaze. “That’s kind of our specialty.”

“Sir, should we take her to the stockade?” Novak asks. He seems reluctant to do so to a woman, even an Indian, but he’s always been good at following orders.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but another voice cuts him off. Colonel Asmodeus Sanderson steps out and takes a look at their captive.

“Not the stockade,” he says, with that Southern drawl that betrays his Kentucky roots. “Not yet.”

He approaches her with a slow, calculated gait. His hands gather behind his back. Dean gives her credit for looking Sanderson in the eye. She seems rightly wary, but not afraid.

“We won’t hurt you. I give you my word,” the Colonel says, “if you’ll lead us to your people’s camp.”

He takes a hold of her chin, turning her face this way and that, like he’s examining a dirty animal, and all that he’ll have to do to make it clean. She spits in his face.

Dean bites the inside of his lip against a smile. She’s got as much fight in her as the mustang. However, he has to school his face back into stoicism when Sanderson rears back in anger.

The harsh smack rings out in the clearing, along with the woman’s cry. Dean doesn’t allow himself to outwardly react, but inside, his spine tightens as he fights his instincts.

Only Kline and Novak’s hold on her arms keeps her upright. She pants for breath, but again, she meets the Colonel with a face that doesn’t give away anything, despite the reddening mark on her cheek.

“The post,” he barks. “Three days. No food or water.”

Dean is kept busy by his duties. He makes sure the camp is running in order, accepting shipments of supplies and ammunition, among other things. Cas Novak is in charge of the stables, caring for the horses and putting them through their training. Jack Kline is young and strong and a good assistant, along with others in his unit.

Right now, Dean and Benny are going over the plans with Colonel Sanderson for continuing construction on the railroad, from here to the Black Hills. It’s a path that cuts straight through Sioux territory—the bands of Dakota and Lakota Indians that occupy the land.

“The natives are fightin’ us tooth and nail,” Sanderson says. “But maybe our guest will be able to help us…negotiate.”

Dean remains quiet, ignoring yet another uneasy twinge in his gut. He didn’t join the army to fight the Indians. He doesn’t always understand their way of doing things, but he understands why they fight—to protect their land, and to protect their own. It’s the same reason Dean fights, when he has to.

He joined the army because…well, it felt like the right thing to do at the time. His father had been a Cavalry Major, and he’d died an honorable death, now about a decade past.

Has it really been ten years? Christ.

Dean wipes his brow. Even with the windows open, the office is humid and smells like ass. He glances outside, where both the mustang and the woman are tied to their posts under a sweltering sun at high noon.

Not for the first time, Dean wonders what his dad would think of him now. 

After the meeting, Dean and Benny fall into step together to inspect the camp. The summer sun shines hot on their blue uniforms, and occasionally they raise their hats to mop the sweat from their brows.

Things are running as usual, but many of the men’s eyes occasionally turn to the posts. Dean’s attention wanders there too without him realizing, catching on the woman’s dark hair. It shines even blacker in the sunlight, like a raven’s wing. He knows the shade because his dad used to have a feather kept in his journal, like a bookmark.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks. Dean realizes what he’s doing, and his attention returns to the task at hand. Get it together.

Always forward, never backward.

“Just fine,” Dean replies. Benny gives him a knowing look.

“A bit unsavory, ain’t it?” he says. “Keeping her chained up without even a lick of water.”

“The Indians are getting smarter, bolder. They’re ambushing our men, going after our supply lines, and now, stealing our horses,” Dean says. “This is strategy.”

Benny shrugs slightly, making a sound of agreement. Dean hesitates, his gloved fingers flexing against his sides.

“If she was a man, you guys wouldn’t give a shit about putting a bullet through her head,” Dean says.

Benny’s gaze shifts downward. He doesn’t reply, but he concedes the point all the same.

They continue their route, and Dean keeps the rest of the conversation on the work at hand.

Mila has gone far longer without drink, but the sun is particularly unforgiving today. She’s prayed and prayed for even one cloud to glide overhead and shield her for a while. It’s not much better for her companion. He paces in place, occasionally tugging his head against the rope that binds him to his post.

She makes a clicking sound at the horse, getting his attention. She calls him by his name, and his ears flicker in her direction. He offers her a short whinny in response.

“I see you, Mato. I am with you,” she says in her native tongue. She hopes the sound of her voice will soothe him. He looks tired and hungry, but his eyes flick hard and untrusting on any man who comes near him. His spirit isn’t broken.

“Hey! Shut the hell up over there,” Roman shouts at her from where he and Cas are taking a short lunch break. Cas gives him a certain look, crossed mostly with annoyance.

Mila resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she closes them and tilts her face back to the sun. In a way, it feels cleansing. Maybe it can wash away the stench of the White Men’s hands on her body, manhandling her, checking her for weapons.

She spends the rest of the day watching the camp. One of their leaders, the Green Eyed One, called this a fort. It does look fortified, with tall walls made of thick wood constructed to form a cage—whether to keep others out, or to keep the men and horses in.

She identifies the Colonel as their chief, of a kind. Green Eyes is second in command, followed by the Bearded One with a strange voice. Even the scruffy Blue Eyed One has some authority, mostly over the Child Faced One. There are too many others to rank them all, but she knows the Loud Mouthed One is arrogant, even after she broke his nose. The way he carries himself, he clearly thinks he has more power than he actually has.

In her mind, Mila conjures up different plans of escape. All of them fall short in some way. The men didn’t find all of her weapons; a small knife is hidden deep in her boot. She could saw at her binds within an hour, but even with Mato to carry her out and away, the problem is escaping this camp without alerting the men. Without getting shot.

She has three days to think.

That night, the moon refuses to give her clarity. Her stomach is too empty, her throat too dry, her tongue thick in her mouth. Her attention shifts in and out of consciousness, until the sound of boots crunching in the dirt trills unease down her spine. More alert, she sits up straighter.

The Loud Mouthed One. The one they call Roman comes to taunt her, offering her water, then drinking for himself instead. He comes closer to examine her. He has a small bind over his broken nose.

“You know, you’re a pretty one,” he says, taking another cold sip as his gaze drags over her form. “For a wild thing.”

His face nears hers, clean shaven, though his thin smile reminds her of a rattlesnake. Dread and repulsion churn at odds in her stomach as she realizes what he's really here for. It doesn't matter if he truly wants her, or just wants to pay her back for his face. Either way, he means to take her here in the dirt.

She looks away, not wanting to let him see her fear, or the dread tightening her stomach, rising into her throat. He winds long fingers into her hair. At first the hold is gentle, deceptive. Then it's tight against her scalp. She hisses in pain when he tugs her head back and forces her to look at him. Her breathing quickens as she tries to pull away.

He draws in close to try and claim her in a kiss, but she head-butts him, hard.

He cries out and stumbles back, his flask falling to the ground.

He angrily grabs her and hauls her up to her feet. He pushes her hard against the post and unbuckles his belt, just to stuff it in her mouth. With his free hand, he begins to undo his pants.

She refuses to cry out, even though she spits out his belt and fights him, trying to kick out his knees.

Suddenly, the man’s body is ripped away from her. Mila loses her footing and falls to the dusty ground, sliding against the wooden beam she’s tied to. The wind is knocked out of her, but when she raises her head, she watches with wide eyes as the Green Eyed One beats the other man into the dirt. It doesn’t take much, just a few well-placed fists.

Roman lies there catching his breath, and he spits a wad of phlegm and blood. His left eye will match his nose, that’s for sure.

Green Eyes looks angry and disgusted. He huffs and puffs while staring down at his subordinate. He pushes back his short brown hair and points an ungloved hand at Roman.

“Get back to the goddamn barracks. You’re gonna be mucking out stalls until shit’s coming out of your ears,” he growls.

Roman doesn’t argue, though it’s obvious that he wants to. He just picks himself up, makes a show of straightening up his open uniform jacket while catching his breath. He walks past Green Eyes with a resentful, angry look. Green Eyes watches him until he disappears inside.

Then, he turns to her. His gaze softens somewhat, but it’s still unreadable. He crouches down in front of her, resting his arms on his thighs. Mila’s gaze briefly falls to his hands. They’re calloused, the hands of a laboring man. He carries himself like a warrior.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

It’s not what she expected. Mila eyes him warily when he moves closer. She presses her back against the post until it hurts her spine. He raises up his hands placatingly.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says.

“That is what your Colonel said,” she says. Her voice cracks with dryness. “I didn’t believe him either.”

His lips flicker at a rueful smile. It wrinkles crow’s feet around his eyes, breaking his stony face.

“Fair enough.”

He reaches for his belt and retrieves a flask, similar to the one his subordinate carried. He extends it out to her.

“It’s water, unless you prefer whiskey. I know I do,” he says.

She raises a brow at him, but hearing the sloshing inside the flask, her thirst takes over her wariness, and even her pride. She tentatively leans forward. He brings it closer so she can press her lips to the opening. Despite his Colonel’s orders, he lets her drink as much water as she’s able. When she’s done, he pockets the flask and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

That, she will not give him. Names are sacred to her people, and this man, while seeming to have a shred of honor, isn’t worthy.

“Don’t wanna even tell me your name?” he says. He nods slightly. “Okay, well, I’m Dean. Captain Winchester, to this band of delinquents.”

He gestures around the camp with a dismissive hand. Mila only watches him. She’s never seen a White act like this, breaking his leader’s rules, being…kind.

What a strange man.

But if he had any real convictions, he would untie her and let her go, along with Mato. She won’t hold her breath.

Dean’s brows raise up toward his hairline, and his full lips form a pout. Realizing he’s not going to get anything more from her, he lets out a tired huff and straightens up.

“Well, goodnight,” he says.

He finally leaves her alone, but she can’t help but follow the swaggering path of his bowed legs and heavy boots. They carry him away and back indoors.  

A strange man.

By the morning of the third day, Dean is ready to do what he does best. Or at least, one thing he does best.

He’s no stranger to horses. He grew up on a farm in Lawrence, Kansas, where he and his brother would help take care of the animals. Dean was older, so he helped his father till the land and train the horses. Sometimes he and Sam would sneak off and race their favorite ones, until their mom called them back for dinner.

In fact, part of what earned Dean his rank in the U.S. Cavalry was how well he could command a horse. His own is resting in the stables.

Today, he’s getting in the ring with the mustang.

…Well, not right away. He lets a few of his guys go first to tire him out. Even after three days of no food or water, the horse is living up to his bad attitude. He bucks each of them off after just a few seconds in the corral. Dean can tell it’s becoming a kind of game for the horse. His dun-colored coat shines in the sun, his brown socked legs kicking up dust and manure as he brays angrily at whoever tries to mount him.

Dean notices the Lakota woman watching with an amused smile on her face while she sits with her hands tied to her post. She’s enjoying the show, like she knew this would happen. It seems to give her energy every time another man is thrown off the horse and limps out of the ring.

Dean shakes his head. Pitiful.

He puts two gloved fingers to his mouth and whistles the entire clearing to attention. He saves Kline the chance to bruise his spine and pats him on the shoulder. Dean steps into the corral and positions himself into the stirrups, wrapping the reins around his hand. The horse is breathing hard, but he’s not done. He’s still got fight in him. Dean sees it in his brown eyes.

“All right, mustang. You’re big and bad. I get it,” Dean says lowly. “But I don’t scare easy. Gimme your best damn shot.”

Cas and Benny give him wary looks from where they stand outside the gate.

“Hold onto your hat, Cap,” Benny mutters.

Dean adjusts his hat and rests his gun on the post for safe keeping. He wants to feel as natural as possible, like it’s just him and this horse, out back in his family farm. He holds on tight to the reins. He’s fully prepared for how the mustang takes off at a galloping clip around the ring. He twists and bucks, but Dean claps his thighs tight and holds on for the ride.

The horse gets smarter.

He runs for the water trough just outside the ring. He slams Dean against the side of it once, twice—and manages to throw him off, with Dean landing right in the water trough.

He bursts out from the dirty water, sopping wet and spluttering in anger. He looks over at the horse trotting around, whinnying and tossing his head like he’s laughing. Dean can’t help it. His anger fades, and he smiles.

This guy’s got some brass balls, I’ll give him that.

The Lakota woman laughs. Dean hears it and his head swivels toward her. She bites her lip, but she knows she’s been caught. Despite his injured pride, Dean’s lips curve with a smirk. Just gonna laugh at me, huh?

“I see things are going well,” comes a familiar drawl.

Dean’s face falls as he looks up and finds Colonel Sanderson. Dean pulls himself out of the trough and tries to squeeze some water out of his uniform. He clears his throat.

“Well, uh, it’s going, sir. Just gonna take a little more time than I thought,” Dean says. He quickly reclaims his hat from the ring, giving the mustang a smart berth. After he climbs back out, he goes over to the post where he left his pistol.

“Hold him steady,” Sanderson barks out the order, but not at Dean. The other men wrangle the horse back into the pen, where Sanderson climbs up and mounts the horse himself.

To his credit, he stays on longer than even Dean thought he would. The mustang gallops and circles. He tries slamming Sanderson on the sides of the corral, tries bucking him and bucking him, but the man clings on, even when his hat falls into the dirt.

The horse is exhausted. He eventually stops in the middle of the ring, panting for breath, his legs shaking slightly. Dean straightens at attention.

So does the Lakota woman, he notices. She looks worried, her brows furrowing.

Sanderson swipes a hand over his graying hair and moustache to collect himself. He raises his head with an arrogant smile.

“You see, gentlemen. Any horse can be broken,” he says. He kicks the horse with his spur. “Move along, mustang.”

To everyone’s amazement, the horse obeys him. He moves forward at a slow clip. All the men applaud, even Dean, belatedly.

“There are those in Washington who believe the West will never be settled,” Sanderson continues. “The Northern Pacific Railroad will never breach Nebraska.”

His gaze draws over to the woman. Her eyes are filled with tears as she watches the Colonel makes his rounds.

“A hostile Lakota,” he says in derision, “will never submit to providence.”

She stares back at him with steel in her watery eyes.

Dean doesn’t realize his jaw is clenched tight until he feels the strain in his jaw. He forces himself to relax, with his hand on his dampened belt.

“And it’s that kind of small thinking that would say this horse would never be broken,” Sanderson says. “Discipline, time, and patience. That’s all you need to level a wild thing.”

Just then, the horse stops abruptly.

“Mustang?” Sanderson asks in warning.

Dean tenses. He knows what’s about to happen.

“Sir!” he calls out.

But it’s too late.

The stallion revs and charges, bucking even wilder than before. He swings his head and rears back high on his hind legs with a powerful bray. Sanderson yells in fear and strain, but he stays on the creature’s back.

The horse’s angry eyes take on a darker shade of conviction. When all four of his hooves hit the ground, he finally bucks hard enough to get the Colonel off his back, though he still clings to the reins near the animal’s head. He comes face to face with the horse’s crazed eyes. His own are wide and full of terror.

Hot breath heats Sanderson’s face. Then the horse swings his head and tosses the man out of the ring. In the process, the horse falls on his side and shatters a section of the wooden beams that fenced him in.

While he shakes his head and gets his hooves under him, Dean and Benny help the Colonel up to his feet. His uniform is a wreck, and now, with a bruised body and likely a couple of broken ribs, the man is fuming.

Kline and Roman wrangle the horse’s reins and keep him more or less in place. The Colonel shoves Dean and Benny off of him. He reaches for his gun at his belt and aims it at the mustang. Dean goes rigid in shock, but he knows he can’t interfere. If he does, it could warrant some major discipline.

The Colonel pulls the hammer back on the revolver, but before he can pull the trigger, the sound of cutting rope and a feminine yell breaks the silence in the clearing. The Lakota woman pulls the Colonel’s arms down, and the gun goes off into the ground. Her elbow comes up quick to strike the man between the eyes. He careens back into Benny, who catches him.

Meanwhile, the woman swings up onto the mustang. She grabs a stronghold by the neck and barks something in her native language. It spurs the horse onward, and he breaks through the crowd of men at a gallop.

Dean watches with widening eyes and furrowing brows. “Shit!”

He runs to the stables where he finds Baby waiting for him. Her black coat ripples as she stamps impatiently.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he beckons. He leads the mare out of the stable, and after grabbing a coil of rope from the supply bench, he mounts her smoothly. With a subtle kick of his heel, she picks up speed to follow the mustang and his rider.

They’re already approaching the gate where the men are quickly trying to close it. There’s still a window of opportunity for escape, but not only is Dean on their heels, Roman also stands on a pile of crates filled with iron parts that are due to be shipped out in the morning for continued construction on the railroad. Roman holds a rifle. He trains his weapon on the woman, taking deadly aim.

Dean’s jaw clenches and his brows furrow. He knows then, in the breadth of a few seconds, that he has to make a choice. If he does nothing, both she and the horse are as good as dead.

Sam used to call him reckless, stubborn as the horses he spent long hours taming.

Right about now, his brother is probably right.

Dean reaches for his gun, aims, and shoots within the span of those seconds. Roman goes down before he even knows what hits him. His chest plumes with blood after he slides down the crates and flops heavy to the ground. His eyes stare unseeing at the crisp blue sky.

The mustang tears through the narrow opening in the gate, and Dean isn’t far behind. The woman is an excellent rider, far better than he expected her to be. She clings to the horse’s neck and mane, and she doesn’t even use the stirrups. She clings on when the horse leaps over rocks, and when she notices Dean tailing her, she urges the horse at an even faster gallop.

Dean’s face furrows with determination. Baby is built for speed too.

He gives her a little kick with his heel. “Come on, Baby. Go!”

He’s able to keep up with the mustang just a few yards behind, even when they reach rougher terrain, going further up and into a canyon. He follows them through every curve and dip, guiding his horse just as much as she's guiding him.

Dean takes his rope in hand and turns it above his head, but his attempt to lasso the mustang's neck fails; the woman saws straight through the rope with her knife.

"Damn it!" Dean mutters.

He's forced to let go of his frayed rope when he and Baby nearly careen off the edge of a cliff. His heart settles high in his throat as he grits his teeth, but he pulls back on the reins hard and leans in the opposite direction. Baby's able to bank left, saving them from a long way down to certain death.

They continue up the narrow path the mustang has trod ahead. It carves around and through the mountain.

Dean mentally grasps for a plan, aside from just keeping up. Without even a bit of rope, he doesn’t know how he’s going to slow the woman down without hurting her or the horse. He doesn’t want to have to use his gun.

Eventually, the canyon breaks into a patch of desert, and then, grassy plains and tall forest trees. The mustang begins to tire and slow to a stop. His rider murmurs soothing things to him, stroking his neck. She turns back to look at Dean over her shoulder in dismay. She knows she’s caught.

“All right, sweetheart. That’s enough,” Dean says.

He sidles up next to her and intends to grab the mustang’s reins.

That’s when her swift kick comes, dead in his forehead.

AN: And here we go! 😅 Feels right that November is Native American Indian Heritage Month. 🫶🏽 For that reason especially I've done my best to do the Lakota people justice, even in this little series and complete work of fiction.

There's a lot packed in this first chapter, and yep, I did borrow a bit of scene from one of the best scenes in Spirit as an homage. From here on out, we're literally going off road...

Next Time:

Dean falls out of his saddle with a yell, landing hard in the grass. The impact knocks the air out of his chest and his hat off his head, not to mention the pain that rattles down his back.

“Son of a bitch,” he wheezes, while trying to get back up.

The woman jumps down from the mustang’s back and all but leaps on Dean. Straddling his waist and grabbing a fistful of his collar, she lets out a battle cry and raises a small knife at him. It’s probably no more than two inches long.

Dean may be on the ground with a smarting forehead, but he’s still got the upper hand. He grabs her knife-wielding arm and whips out his pistol from his belt. Her eyes widen, and she stills above him. The gun lies between them, aimed for her chest. They’re both breathing hard.

Dean has a problem.

Looking into her eyes, soulful and brown, the slope of her nose and her full lips, parted with shock… 

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[akanemnon]

This deja vu comes with a free concussion!

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MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[melveres]

letters from his Spellbinder

[the-deca]

"those people in the pub were so mean" yeah but after the 100th english tourist treating you like uncivilised idiots you kinda start to get a bit jaded

[savage-rhi]

Fuchgenta??

[galehowl]

Every time it's one of Those Times nearing in Murica, I see a lot of people worrying about what's going to happen because their countries ( including mine; re: all of fucking EU ) are squished between Murica's buttcheeks, and every time it shits itself, we all have it all spilled all over us, and honestly

I'm so fucking tired of it lol, and have been growing increasingly tired for many years now