#any female character when they take out her ribs and have her do a back bend for no reason

[bellaireland1981]

Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents. 

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach. 

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.” 

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything. 

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you. 

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him. 

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.” 

“I love you, Stud.” You said,  snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close. 

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet. 

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised. 

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before.  “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded. 

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt. 

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you. 

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks. 

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water. 

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.” 

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt. 

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking. 

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore. 

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!” 

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort. 

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.” 

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it. 

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

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[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood — pt viii

Synopsis: Serra and Benjicot's newly-wed bliss is interrupted by news from the Battle of Burning Mill, leaving Raventree in a state of grief amidst changes. Serra attempts to comfort Benjicot and better understand him in the early days of marriage.

Content warnings: MDNI 18+ — adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content (smut — I.e. female oral/cunnnilingus, implied p/v intercourse), mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation, mention of major character death.

masterlist | audio playlist | backwards — 7 | forwards — 9

A/N: hi this ain’t my best work but we’re here — sorry to disappear and have no updates for scheduling, I have returned to university as of this week and in that same time, had my wisdom teeth removed so am recovering/getting settled in so editing may be worse than usual

Word count: 8.4K

His ribs pressed against hers as the sun cast in through the window, his eyes closed and lashes fluttering against his cheeks as she lay naked beneath him; waist between her thighs. The bed sheets had been since replaced after the night’s endeavours, where the white ones had not been seen since the feast, grateful when they had returned to find the red silk ones that now hung low around her husband’s hips and bunched underneath him to provide her with some coverage as he slept — his mouth partially ajar and his cheeks pinkened with warmth; Serra didn’t have it within her to wake him from the peaceful slumber as his head rested against her bare chest, instead taking the opportunity to observe his youthful features, free of any of the daily stressors that often exasperated the frown lines between his brows and creased around his mouth. His hair had grown out in the past weeks, nearly in his eyes now as she brushed it back from her forehead with the tips of her fingers — she found he radiated a warmth that protected her from the cool nip of the morning as his body easily covered hers.

She had woken to the sun on her face hours prior, unable to sleep as the sound of horses whinnying kept her up most of the night after the tense events of the night’s feast; but Benjicot…he found sleep like it did not require even an ounce of thought, and kept it like a child did their childhood toys, unmoving and dreaming even after sleep had long-since abandoned her. She found peace and enjoyment in just watching him, however, unable to hold a grudge for the lack of sleep she had achieved — it seemed the only comforting thing in the night.

Once again, she had been haunted by dreams of her mother, longing for her to be present and guide her through what marriage had in store for her, and offering her wisdom on the quarrels of men that lingered; tense in the air even after the group had dispersed, Emrys skulking off with Henry in tow, pleading for him to come back -- she had seen the glare on Kermit’s face, rolling his eyes as he brushed past her and muttered a comment of, “Do you still defend him?”

The feast was tense and uncomfortable, catching pitiful stares as she wandered around the room, a hushed whisper following her with every step — even as the aftershocks of the confrontation had subsided, she was still followed by the reminder that they had yet to forgive the claims against her husband’s role in the death of Rodrik Bracken and his temper that never seemed to know peace; constantly simmering beneath the surface. A trait that was not comforting, to say the least, while his father was away on the frontlines of a battle, causing tension that was only further exasperated by the war for the Iron Throne. A boy who was also yet to be forgiven for the possibility that he — a nobleman who was to be lord of Raventree — fathered a bastard before he’d even had a chance to break free from the confines of their doubts. She’d heard a whisper the night prior, muttering about the disgrace their union brought, averting eyes of Lord Robbard as he watched her move past him and towards the doors where Benjicot never seemed to leave. She had heard the reply that Benjicot had been only a boy who followed the path of his grandfather before him, having an uncle who was a bastard too. She was miserable that her wedding had been dampened by the clouds that lingered over the room of men and women who seemed to sober up following the news of Samwell’s whereabouts.

Benjicot was silent after that, tense with his jaw clenched as he hung near the wall; she was unable to find it in herself to even fight to convince him otherwise, as she was drained and exhausted after the long day it had turned out to be — she always knew that her wedding would be a long, exhausting feat but she had never considered the amount of fighting that had entailed, her joints sore from holding all that tension inside of her for hours on end. Willem continued to circle the room, and every so often, she felt his eyes on them; fixedly watching Benjicot in particular who deliberately made it his night’s mission to avoid his uncle’s eyes as he visibly swallowed and kept that same blank, emotionless look for the remainder of the evening and stared off out the windows. He hardly argued when she insisted they retire for the night, only giving her a quiet grunt as she took his hand, met by her father’s announcement as he and their guests bid them a final congratulations as a series of blessings was offered -- Serra had never felt so many hands on her shoulders as they exited the hall and ascended the stairs back towards their shared room where they had only left some short time earlier.

She had practically collapsed into bed the minute they closed the doors, his heavy footsteps behind her and lingering by the door. It was only then did she witness that tension melt away, his expression softening as he touched her face, allowing her to help him strip down to his underclothes and ready himself for bed; his eyes watching her every move as he sat at the foot of their bed, whilst she rushed around the room, taking a cloth to his face and wiping the sweat from his brow. It then, too, had been by her lead as she brought his hands back on her body, eager to feel his skin on hers once more.

The only singular thought that had not been consumed by the memory of his distraught eyes at the news regarding his father and the dreams of her mother was the embarrassment she felt when she had woken; her body sore from the remembrance of him between her thighs, her body moulded to fit his perfectly as the soft sighs of pleasure echoed throughout the room and down the halls well into the night — the perfect distraction from the feast’s events and the growing remorse in her chest and resentment that gnawed that her. She envied her lord husband who was oblivious to knowing such shame, as he laid against her, an arm finding itself around her in his sleep and clinging to her.

Her thoughts were disturbed by the low groan that rumbled from his chest, the sound vibrating against her collarbone as her fingers carded through the roots of his hair, “How long have you been awake?” He grumbled.

“Not too long,” She lied, her thumb brushing his forehead.

His head lifted, turning to look up at her through squinted, tired eyes that were only half-open, “You’re a terrible liar, wife,” He softly teased, voice thick with exhaustion and gruff as he spoke, “Did you sleep at all?”

She knew there was no sense in trying to lie again — he had seen right through her and hadn’t even hesitated to call her bluff as he slowly moved to sit up on an elbow that was planted against the mattress by her waist, “I did— only a few hours,” Serra confessed.

He hummed, visibly discomforted by the fact as his hand stretched up to brush along her arm, “What kept you awake?”

The urge to lie once again arose, heavy in her chest with a relentless sense of anxiety as she contemplated her answer, “It’s just not been easy to find sleep lately,” she admitted, his chin propped against her chest as he looked up at her, “Do you think…your parents cared for each other?” She asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she slowly enunciated each word.

His mouth twitched, a frown etching itself into her brows — she had to fight back the urge to massage the lines from his forehead with her thumb and smooth it away, “In what way?”

She felt it seemed a straightforward question, “As husband and wife, did you ever think they cared for each other?”

Benjicot’s mouth opened, letting out a sigh after he hesitated for words, “I suppose in some ways they did, yes,” he answered, his hand lifting from her arm to brush back the hair from her face as a strand had fallen into her eyes, “why do you ask?”

“I have been thinking about my mother lately,” she admitted, pausing — his features softened at the words, “I realise we have never talked much about yours. I remember your father as a child and what he was like, but I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t remember your mother. I don’t remember what it was like to see them together.”

“They never spent much time together,” he quickly pointed out.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “didn’t they?”

“They hadn’t since I was young,” he said, “not since I was seven.”

“How do you know they cared for each other then?”

He moved to prop himself up on his elbow, the joint pressed above her hip as his head rested against his palm, “I’m not sure, a feeling I’ve had I suppose,” Benjicot explained, “She pulled away after my brother died in the cradle, my father tried hard to pull her out of her grief…but I think it was too much for her. I remember she felt…things much greater than anyone could ever understand, he used to get angry with me because he said I took after her as a boy in that way, and boys were not supposed to be so soft. He sat by her door for weeks though, despite that he couldn’t understand.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder, fingers brushing over the bare skin as he spoke, “When we lost her, he sat there for days. He wouldn’t let them touch her belongings or take anything away— still to this day, he hasn’t let them touch her room,” he rambled, “I think the only time I ever saw her relax or snap out of it was whenever he came by to visit. They didn’t do much talking, I think they were just content being near each other some days…I was angry with her for a long time, for pulling away and never quite being like your mother— yours loved you so openly, I remember she was willing to fight so fiercely for her children if she’d had to, all to protect you.”

“And now?”

He inhaled sharply, sighing, “I’ve forgiven her, I think. She did as best she could manage,” he said, his shoulder shrugging, “You remind me of her in some ways. From what I remember her for at least, which scares me at times.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Your ability to feel things much greater than the rest. You are nurturing and kind,” He said, his head turning to allow his mouth to press a kiss to her shoulder, “your ability to be kind to a man like me.”

She reached out, her hand tracing the outline of his face, fingers brushing his hair from his brow for a moment and delicately exploring the shape of his high cheekbones; her thumb skimmed over the skin, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “It’s not always as hard as you think.”

Benjicot snorted, “Always?”

“Some days you’re insufferable,” She replied, her hand dropping to grab his shoulder and encouraging him up to her face. The sheets rustled with the move, his chest landing over hers and his face coming to hers with a grin. Her hand found the planes of his back, wrapping underneath his arm and coming around his shoulder as her thighs dropped to accommodate his waist, welcoming him with open arms.

Serra’s fingers continued to trace Benjicot’s jaw, her touch light yet purposeful. She watched him closely, sensing the weight of his memories and his carefully chosen words. There was a softness in his gaze, one that surprised her, as if he had unlocked a piece of himself that he rarely let surface — a glimmer of who he once was as a boy.

“Does it scare you?” Serra asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “That I remind you of her?”

Benjicot’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as though her question had struck a chord. “Sometimes,” he admitted, the honesty in his tone sending a shiver through her. “Because I watched her break. And I know… I wouldn’t know what to do if you ever felt that way.”

Serra’s brow furrowed as she absorbed his words, her heart aching for the boy he must have been—watching his mother disappear into grief. “I’m not your mother, Benjicot,” she said softly, brushing her lips against his temple. “I won’t leave you to bear the weight alone.”

His arms tightened around her as though he feared she might slip away at that very moment. “It’s not easy,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes I fear I don’t know how to… be the kind of husband you deserve.”

Serra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, pressing her forehead against his. “You’re already more than enough,” she murmured, her thumb stroking along his cheek. “You listen. You care. That’s more than many could say about their husbands.”

Benjicot’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but the shadow of doubt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you think we’ll be different?” he asked, the question heavy with uncertainty. “From my parents?”

Serra tilted her head, considering his words carefully. “I think we already are,” she answered, her fingers running through his hair as she spoke. “We’re talking, aren’t we? We’re here, trying to understand one another, and that’s more than some ever do.”

He let out a soft chuckle, his forehead pressing against hers. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, though his tone held a quiet hope as if he wasn’t quite ready to believe it yet.

Serra’s hand found its way to his back, drawing gentle circles against his skin. “We don’t have to be perfect,” she said, her voice steady and reassuring. “We just have to try.”

Benjicot’s smile widened, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. “I’m lucky,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “to have you.”

Serra’s lips curved into a playful smile as she tugged him closer. “I suppose I’m lucky too.”

He laughed, the tension between them dissolving as he leaned in to capture her lips in a slow, tender kiss. The sheets rustled again as he shifted, his weight pressing her further into the bed, and for a moment, the world outside of them disappeared. Serra’s heart swelled as she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, her breath hitching as she then felt his right hand creep up along the length of her leg, his knuckles pressed to the inside of her knee and gliding up until he reached the apex of her thigh and stopping to rest there — the breath she took was shaky, her lips parting and finding the nape of his neck as he craned up and into her; his chest pressed against hers, “Ben…” She quietly muttered against his lips.

“I could stay here all day…” he replied, his free hand lifting to cradle her face against his palm, his other finally moving over her mound; his fingers dipping into her with an eagerness that shared a likeness to a bear drawn to honey that drew a soft gasp from her mouth, “just…like…this.”

Her head leaned back, pressing into the pillow behind her as his fingers sank into her, pressing up into her walls with slow meticulous in-and-out movements that orchestrated a slew of soft moans with such ease — Benjicot leaned forward, pulling the sheet down and away from her body until she was bare to him and him alone. His lips found the curve of her breast, pressing a soft kiss to the skin before lowering his head; ducking to bring his mouth over her nipple, his teeth dragging along the sensitive peak. Her chest instinctively pressed up into his kiss, mouth falling open with a low whine as she found hold by his hair, “Oh good Gods…” she cried out.

Her walls clenched around his fingers, warm and wet as her womb welcomed him, “We needn’t see anyone today,” he muttered, shifting down her body enough that his lips brushed her ribs. He once again yanked the sheet away from their bodies, further bunched low around his hips and leaving her exposed to the cool Spring air that trickled in through the windows that were left open. He spoke in between kisses to her belly, “could stay here in bed…performing our duty. Creating a babe to rule Raventree.”

“We…have other duties to attend to, m’lord,” She panted, a hand again finding the crown of his head and fisting the locks of hair between her fingers.

Benjicot’s mouth found her hip, using his shoulders to force her thighs apart for him as his hand continued its slow ministrations, “Oh, so formal,” he teased, “those duties will still be there later, the council can spare us a moment more.” His words were muffled by flesh, his voice a low timbre that sent a shiver up her spine as he looked up through thick, dark lashes.

“But breakfast…” she gasped, his fingers curling up into her, “the gift ceremony— you have meetings and…and— dear gods.”

“Sh, my love,” He said as his mouth turned up into a grin. He pressed a final kiss to her pelvis, his mouth then finally closing around her clit and lapping at her with such fervour she felt as though she was burning from within, pleasure surging through her veins; she felt her breath catch in her throat, letting out a high-pitched moan. She was quickly overwhelmed by her peak, her skin ablaze and clutching to the roots of his hair like life alone depended on it, her hips desperately grinding into his face as he coaxed her through it. Her body tensed above him, a tremor settling into every bone as her head pressed as far back as the mattress would allow clenching her thighs around his head.

“Ben,” she finally whined aloud.

—

Benjicot was never quite fond of the idea of marriage — he always imagined that when the day came that he did marry, he would be miserable and only do it solely for the sake of duty. He’d pictured it would be some round faced Perryn girl that he had never paid any mind to, avoiding her gaze during their wedding and throughout the feast, disgusted as he’d bedded her — he had long since settled that he probably would only bed her once or twice a month and hope for the best. Hope that she would be with child quickly as to not have to bear another moon of the tiring routine; hopeful that the old gods would spare him the mercy of a wife who was slow to come with child and put him through that experience time and time again — if the prospect of marriage and his wife-to-be was not going to be by his choice, he at least hoped they would spare him that at least. He’d experienced that once before when his older cousin had dragged him to a pleasure house in the Street of Silk as a boy of ten-and-six, citing that he’d come of age and as a man grown, there came a certain appetite for women — he’d been plunged into the room of a woman who feigned arousal and had done her best to put on a show for him, exaggerated moans and just too much touching him. He had been grateful for the entire experience to be done with, awkwardly dismissing her after he struggled to…be present and perform. There had been no missing Kermit’s snort when he compared her to having horse-like features, eager to return to Raventree and scrub himself raw. He swore he would never step foot in that place again after that.

He’d always pictured a version of marriage that was cold and distant, not something that was born out of love but rather obligation — and yet, surprisingly, he felt lighter that morning. He did not feel shame embracing the touch of his wife, and he didn’t feel the urge to avoid her eyes and feign love for her out of said obligation — it had taken every ounce of willpower to tear himself from their chambers that morning; wanting nothing more than to delay his other duties for another day. He felt at ease with her, and like maybe he could be absolved of any sins he wore like marred scars on his skin; she was a breath of fresh air that Benjicot had not known in a long time, especially in his home.

He had only left after another hour at her insistence, her handmaiden waiting outside the door to enter and draw her a bath, ready to start anew as the morrow stretched into midday. She had practically dragged him out of bed, her robe scarcely clinging her her shoulders as he protested, her face flushed and having to flick back the hair from her eyes as she bid him a final goodbye for the time being with a kiss to his cheek, insisting he go bathe as well, “I will see you tonight.”

It was a relief to hear, something to look forward to. He would see her tonight and she would only be on the other side of the hall, just at an arm's length where he could find her at any moment should he need to — he had sighed and agreed, cupping her face to give her one last kiss before he retreated towards his private rooms. He would die before he admitted that she was right in saying that a bath and some supper would do him wonders — he felt better prepared to face the council that afternoon, at ease as he took the head of the table, all eyes on him the minute he had stepped into the room.

If anything, Benjicot radiated a newfound confidence as he sat down, slowly addressing each member who took a seat after him.

After the pleasantries and greetings, some further congratulations on his marriage, the meeting had been tense and brief, “Have we heard anything from the Red Fork this morning?” Benjicot asked.

There was a pensive silence, Benjicot’s uncle Willem speaking up when the silence stretched too long, “No, we’ve yet to hear anything from your father or Alysanne. They arrived before midnight, according to a messenger.”

Benjicot nodded, though his thoughts momentarily drifted back to the morning he'd shared with his wife. Her warmth lingered with him, even now, as he returned to the pressing matters at hand. The mention of his father and sister, absent from Raventree, only sharpened his focus. His duties as lord could not be delayed any longer, even if the idea of returning to her chambers tempted him far more than facing another day of conflict.

“They’ll send word soon,” Willem continued, noticing Benjicot’s silence. “I trust your father will have it handled.”

Benjicot nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. The tension near the Red Fork had been escalating, and while his father was a seasoned hand at dealing with disputes, there was a sense that this time things might go too far. The Brackens were a thorn in their side, and with every passing day, it seemed more likely that words alone would not suffice to settle the rising disputes.

“We need to be ready,” Benjicot said, his voice steady as he addressed the rest of the council. “If we hear nothing by dusk, I’ll ride out myself.”

His uncle frowned but did not object, biting his tongue with a tense nod that was short and curt. Benjicot’s newfound confidence, paired with his sense of responsibility, was undeniable. It was clear he was no longer the young boy who had once sought to avoid such burdens. Something had changed, and the men around him could see it.

The meeting had spiralled into further updates from the west, an empty him of sound that Benjicot had only half-listened to as he absentmindedly found himself twirling his dagger; his fingers tracing over the intricate digit and blade as he nodded, offering very little to the conversation — there did not feel as though there was much to say. He had grown weary of the dry talk that was often followed by long silences, pausing and exchanging looks with the few lords who surrounded the table, growing restless quickly and dismissing them until the morning after three gruelling hours of staring back at their uncertain expressions.

He sheathed his blade as he stood, ensuring it was secure there as the room emptied — amidst the tense silence that followed the men out of the room, he had found the back of Kermit’s head, slotted between Oscar and Elmo as they trickled out behind the crowd; as angry as he was still, he could not find it in himself to hold that resentment against the boy he’d long since considered a brother.

—

“Do you mind if I join?” He asked, watching as Kermit tensed, freezing mid-swing on the training dummy in front of him.

The sword dropped, and turning to look back at him — he could see his shoulder slump, his jaw clenching as he fully turned to face him from his place in the centre of the training circle, “If that is what you wish, my lord.” He stiffly replied.

Benjicot nodded, blinking rapidly and approaching him, his sword held underneath his arm as he made work of shrugging off his cloak and dropping it into the grass at the edge of the dirt circle. He unsheathed his sword, “I take it you knew of my father’s intentions?”

“I can’t say I didn’t,” He curtly replied.

He slowly approached him again, Kermit’s body still radiating his annoyance as he stepped back, lifting his weapon again, “And you did not think to warn me?”

“It was not my place to, My Lord,” he said through gritted teeth. Silence befell them again.

“You’re still angry with me,” Benjicot said, his gaze going towards Kermit’s feet as circled him, averting his eyes away towards the treeline. He heard as he sighed, his sword dragging across the dirt for a moment.

“You’re not particularly the face I’d wish to see right now,” He admitted.

“Would you rather it be Serra’s?”

Kermit snorted and rolled his eyes, stopping on his right and looking down at the weapon in his hand, “No, she wouldn’t even step within this circle anyways. You know that.”

They quieted, the air filled with the soft sound of birds as dusk slowly approached.

“You know, I never really thought about it— how hard it would be to look you in the eye afterwards,” Kermit started to complain, squinting as the sun struck his eyes. His friend panted, shifting his stance and shuffling back a few steps, an inquisitive look on his face as he adjusted his grip around the hilt of his sword, “knowing you’ve bedded my sister and all. Bit weird, innit?” He finally explained, visibly uncomfortable, trying to make conversation the longer they paced in circles.

Kermit’s sword suddenly lunged forward, swinging towards Benjicot; quickly deflecting it with a clash and releasing a breathless laugh, “Surely you had to have considered it, it’s part of the martial duty,” He huffed. Kermit swung again, their blades meeting halfway and straining as he attempted to overpower his, “marriages and the marital act, it brings children -- heirs. You’re familiar with the marital act, aren’t you, Kermit?” He taunted, shoving his sword and him back suddenly.

He stumbled back a step, sword by his side as he heavily breathed, eyeing him, “I’m familiar with it. I considered that there might be heirs, that was partly the intention,” He said, voice laced with disgust, “but the thought of you—” he said, lunging at him again, his sword being swatted away by skilful hands, “—and my sister makes me sick.”

Benjicot twirled the weapon, swinging it at his side, a wild grin on his face, “Would you rather I bed you instead?” He goaded, taking a few slow steps to his right. “Though I’m sure your father might have some reservations about the idea.”

Kermit scoffed in disgust, letting out a sudden yelp when his friend lunged forward; quickly reacting in time to deflect his blade, his hands coming up to his shoulders to shove him back a step, “You’re fucking vile, you know that?” Kermit said, a laugh slipping from him as he caught himself from tumbling backwards.

“Oh come now, I only jest,” Benjicot said, stepping back to bounce on his toes as his eyes followed the Tully heir’s movements, “but don’t worry, I plan to make you a proud uncle sooner than not.”

Kermit charged forward, blade swinging up and just missing his chin, twisting his arm and bringing it down quickly -- the movement stunned Benjicot, tripping backwards over his foot and scarcely catching himself with a flail of his arms. He took the opportunity presented in front of him, kicking his foot to slide back and bringing the sword tip to his throat, just touching as his partner stared at him with a wide-eyed stare; mouth opening. Benjicot stuttered for a moment before he grinned, tongue pressing to the corner of his mouth as he panted for air, his chest heaving, “Is this what you have come for? To brag to me about bedding my sister?” Kermit asked between breaths, “Because for once, I find myself rather disinterested in the details of the women you bed.”

He dropped the sword suddenly, stepping back a few steps and allowing him to compose himself again as Benjicot wiped his blade against the fabric of his tunic, his arm holding it against his side with the move, “You owe me.”

His head lifted, confused as Kermit stared at him expectantly, “What?”

“You owe me,” Kermit repeated. His words suddenly clicked in, his mouth opening but shutting and deciding on silence, “As boys, if one bested the other, the winner was owed a favour— I need a favour of you.”

Benjicot eyed him, already suspecting the direction the conversation was going as he sheathed his sword against his side and nodded, “Alright. I’ll bait,” He said, “What is your favour?”

“The truth,” Kermit replied.

The training yards were silent as the two men stared at one another, Benjicot’s heart racing as he blinked a couple of times before he nodded again in response to his request, “I noticed, you know…” Kermit began to state, tone hinting he had yet to get to his question and would drag things out to make a point first — Benjicot had become familiar with the routine when he was procrastinating getting to the point.

He sighed, “Noticed what?”

He glanced down at his feet as his sword was dragged through the dirt, disturbing the rocks as it was moved with a grinding sound as the dirt was overturned, “You left every time we went on hunts,” He admitted, “I never thought anything of it at the time, I just assumed you were being stubborn and went hunting on your own after the rest had retired for the night. I noticed how close you always insisted on hunting towards the Brackens.”

Benjicot clenched his jaw, swallowing, “What is your question, Kermit?”

He looked up at him, blue eyes fixed on him as though he was trying to see right through him and dig out every secret Benjicot held in his body, “I know maybe you will never admit it out loud, I know you will never claim the babe as your own,” He said, his voice low, “but did you ever think to come to me about it? Ask me for help with your…predicament?”

“What help might you have offered?” He quickly replied.

His weight shifted from one foot to the other, “I’m not sure, I suppose— I could have helped you over the boundaries, pushed Amos and my father to agree to a union between the two of you, let you live the life you chose…” he explained. “I wouldn’t have pushed for Serra to marry so soon and could have allowed for you both to choose for love, rather than obligation.”

A pang of guilt washed over Benjicot at the thought of what could have been had things been different, picturing the face of the Bracken girl at the weirwood with him instead of Serra — to have even the inkling of yearning for a girl that was not his wife, a woman who had done nothing to wrong him and had been nothing but kind and sweet even when he did not make it an easy task. He felt guilt for picturing another woman when he could still feel her — his good and sweet wife — on his skin, taste her on his lips, her soft voice still clear as day in his ears as he looked away for a moment and looked up over the walls that enclosed Raventree, “You to wed Myrna, and Serra to Aeron—Rodrik alive, and you and I still like brothers. Maybe I could have prevented this whole mess had things worked out differently.”

He breathed a laugh, “I don’t think that would have done anything for the war.”

“No, but maybe it could have saved our houses all the unnecessary grief,” Kermit reasoned. “Did you ever think about it?”

His head tilted, thumb stretching to twirl a gold band around his fourth finger on his left hand that symbolized his marital bond to the very woman whose brother stood before him, “What?”

“Running away to be with her instead.”

He hesitated, “Once, yeah.”

It was not a confession he was proud of, but there had been a moment that last night that he considered what would have happened if he had not returned to Raventree the next day — if he had taken what little belongings he had on him and disappeared in the night with her, never to return or be heard of again. He wondered how angry his father would have been upon hearing the news — wondered how much of a head start they would have gotten before his father sent men searching for him, how long it would take before he gave up and accepted that Benjicot would never return. Would he discover the true reasoning behind his disappearance? Or would he assume he died somewhere in the woods? Would he hold a funeral in his name, without a body? He had almost found the courage that night to ask her to leave with him, but he knew despite her frustration towards her house and her father’s antics, she was forever loyal to her house and would never agree if she was to still possess any ounce of sanity and therefore, the idea of even suggesting it seemed risky. He cowered away that night.

“Would you still have her if you were given the chance?” Kermit suddenly asked.

Benjicot spluttered a laugh in his disbelief, “You’re not seriously asking me this…” He said, finding his friend’s unwavering expression — his smile dropped, “now of all times. Why are you asking me this?”

Kermit hesitated, the stoic expression breaking with a sigh as he looked up towards the sky where the sun shone bright with midday, “Because I’d like to offer you a favour in return.”

“And what, pray tell, might that be?” He asked, stepping towards him.

Kermit’s eyes followed him, hands tight around the hilt of his sword — he could have killed him, right then and there and not given it a single thought, he could do it — he cleared his throat, “I will give you the chance to leave,” he finally responded, the air around them thick with tension, “to be with your true love and to raise your child away from the confines of politics as you see fit, I will help you out of the gates and to Essos with enough supplies to last you long enough to get settled…”

“Kermit, you can’t be serious.”

“—Just leave my sister out of it, I ask that you not speak a word of this to her. She can’t know,” he continued to speak.

“What are you talking about?” Benjicot asked.

“I can send you a small allowance for the first year, to help with the child but after that, you are on your own,” Kermit finally said, out of breath as though he’d yet to take a breath, his eyes searching his face, “should that be what you want, but that is all I can do for you. That seems like a generous offer.”

Benjicot barked a bitter laugh, beginning to move again as he had grown restless with nerves the longer the conversation had continued — the longer he stood in place, the closer he came to losing his mind and lunging at him, his hand reaching towards the hilt of his sword again and drawing it suddenly, “Don’t be fucking mad, Kermit,” he spat, the taste of bile rising the back of his throat and threatening to coat the ground beneath him as he used his sleeve to wipe his brow, “You would ask me to abandon your sister because of some petty vendetta against me? Do you hate me that much?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt by the suggestion.

All those years of friendship, all those years of being playmates as boys felt like another lifetime as Kermit’s blank expression faced him, “I only mean to protect my sister.” He quietly explained.

“And if your sister is with child?” He asked, voice low as he rushed forward to him until they were practically nose-to-nose and heavy breathing with anger. There was no restraining himself — just as it had some days prior and landed them in this exact position; his temper flared, in his face and clutching his sword as Kermit only blinked, “You would have me abandon my flesh and blood, my house?”

“It would not be the first time,” Kermit calmly replied, though he caught the edge in his tone, “you forget, there are remedies for…undesirable pregnancies—”

Benjicot suddenly brought the weapon up, pressing it to his throat until it just bit into his skin, threatening to ooze blood while he forced his friend back a step, his teeth bared into a snarl as Kermit flinched, “You would do best to mind your fucking tongue!” He growled.

“I only act in the best interest of Serra and her future,” He replied, holding his stare and swallowing thickly; a trickle of sweat rolling down his left temple.

“By implying you’d have her kill my child?” He spat, the blade pressing further into his skin, “I could kill you, you know that? I could kill you right now—

“Benjicot.”

Alysanne’s voice was sharp and stunned as his head whipped around to look over his shoulder where she stood at the entrance to the training grounds, equally surprised to find her watching him with eyes that screamed horror — a look that was so foreign to her, he felt the urge to shrink away and hide in shame, faltering in his hold of the blade as he stuttered for a moment. She was dirtied from head-to-toe, still in riding gear that was marred by blood and dirt, the fabric of her pants torn at her right knee as she held her gloves by her side — her expression a haunted one as she stared in silence, “What are you two doing?”

Benjicot dropped his hand, carefully lowering the weapon and stepping away from his companion who quickly fixed the collar of his tunic by smoothing it out, “I…”

“We were just training,” Kermit quickly answered for them both, “we just got a bit carried away.”

His gaze anxiously looked over his shoulder to where Kermit stood, wiping his neck with the sleeve of his doublet, catching his eye for a moment, “Benjicot should also know better than to get carried away,” Alysanne said, a hint of warning to her words as she eyed her nephew. “Especially now of all times.”

The two men seemed to share a thought, moving in unison to bow their heads to her, “I did not realize you had returned, Aunt Alysanne.”

She scoffed a laugh, stepping down from the steps to approach the circle as she slapped her gloves against her leg; a slew of dust flying up from their fabric, “No, I suppose you were distracted, weren’t you?” She scolded. Her eyes turned to Kermit, observing the wound at his throat that still oozed, “Go to Maester Edric and have that seen to.”

Kermit stammered, “Oh…it’s nothing, it will be fine.”

“It was not a suggestion, Kermit,” She stated, looking again at her nephew who lowered his eyes, “I must speak with my nephew.”

“I…” Kermit began to say, stopping abruptly when Alysanne’s eyes drifted to him again. He bowed his head and cleared his throat, “Of course, my lady.”

The two kin were silent as Kermit uttered a quiet bid goodbye, brushing past them and heading back inside, dark eyes following his every step until he was out of sight — Benjicot could still feel his anger that simmered below the surface, right in his chest as he clenched his jaw and finally let out a scoff once he was out of earshot and looking up and away from his aunt who looked at him. How was he to face Serra later, knowing her brother had even suggested such a thing?

“Benjicot,” Alysanne said, drawing his attention to her.

Benjicot continued to avoid her gaze, grinding his teeth and clenching his sword, focused on slowing his heart that hammered against his ribs — he looked towards the trees, “Benjicot, look at me.”

He finally gave in, turning to Alysanne. "I need you here with me. I know whatever's happening with Kermit is important, but I need you to listen and be fully present with me," she said, her tone urgent as she nervously wrung her gloves in her hands, “are you here?”

He frowned, “Yes.”

She nodded, stepping closer and lowering her voice, “It may not be my place, but I must ask, how did the night go? Was it successful?”

“In what way?” He asked, letting out an uncomfortable laugh as she then reached out to grab his wrist, finding his hand with an incline of her head, “Nobody is dead, so I suppose it was…as best it could be. Though, you’d have known that had you had the decency to stay and witness it. Or at least forewarn me of your intentions.” He grumbled.

“Benjicot, please,” she sighed, her tone exasperated — she lifted her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a moment. When they opened, he felt there was a shift to her stare, tense and anxiety-ridden as she squeezed his hand, “The marriage— has it been consummated?” She boldly questioned.

His nose crinkled in displeasure, “Yes.”

“Successfully?”

“Successfully?” He echoed.

“Is Serra with child? Is there to be a new heir?” She asked, words coming quickly as she grew increasingly agitated. He had to bite back the urge to splutter a laugh, freezing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, becoming visibly unsettled by her words.

“It’s…too early to confirm, but I’m confident in the likelihood there will be a new babe by the end of the year,” he slowly replied, “Why? Alysanne, what’s happened?”

She visibly hesitated, glancing towards the house as she sought the words — Benjicot could feel the air around them shift into something tense and uneasy as she sucked in a breath and sighed, looking down as she took his other hand in hers, “I feel it necessary to tell you myself, now before anyone else has the chance to get to you, it has to come from me,” she quietly said.

“Alysanne, what is going on?” He asked, his panic rising.

“It’s your father,” She said suddenly.

He felt the colour drain from his face as he stilled, staring at her with a blank expression, awaiting her next words, “Your father has been killed at the Battle of Burning Mill.”

Benjicot's world seemed to tilt. The silence that followed was suffocating. His heart pounded in his ears, yet his body felt numb, and disconnected. "No," he whispered, his mind rejecting the reality she had just spoken.

Tears welled up in Alysanne’s eyes as she watched him, her heart aching for him, knowing there were no words to ease the blow. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He shook his head, stepping back, pulling his hand from hers. His thoughts spiralled—his father was gone. He’d never see him again, never hear his voice. It was too much. The pain surged in his chest, overwhelming and raw, “How?” He asked.

“Benjicot—

“How?” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger.

“Amos Bracken,” She finally replied after a brief pause, “who was also slain in battle by my own hand.” She added.

Benjicot swallowed thickly, nodding — he was not sure where to go and what to say, settling on shoving past her to collect his cloak from the ground despite her call of his name. He wanted to shrivel up and hide, like a child scared of thunder, but he knew there would be no hiding — it was only a matter of time before everyone was aware. He wanted a chance to change, wipe his face and find his wife — god, his wife — the only source of light despite the chaos. He clenched his jaw as he stalked through the hallways and towards his room, his gaze straight ahead as he attempted to brush past the great hall before anyone noticed his arrival, his nose being wiped off on the sleeve of his doublet.

It was there his gaze settled on the familiar back of his wife who was in conversation with her father, a hand of hers in his much like Alysanne had done to him just moments prior — the image made him want to be sick as he halted abruptly. She turned to look over her shoulder as he approached, following where her father’s gaze had shifted to focus on him, a pitiful expression on his face as he released her hand — Serra’s expression softened as she found his eyes, her mouth opening but being interrupted.

“Lord Benjicot,” Lord Perryn suddenly announced.

Benjicot fought the urge to growl in annoyance, flinching at the greeting and freezing. He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment to collect his thoughts and ground himself before he uttered something stupid, “It is with great sympathies…to hear of your father’s passing,” Lord Perryn stated.

His eyes opened, watching as Serra approached him and found rest against his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and shakily exhaling through his nose, “Thank you, Lord Perryn.” He grumbled.

“I would like to be among the first to once again declare my loyalties to your house, and in support of your claim to Raventree,” he said, slowly bowing his head, “House Perryn recognizes you as the true heir, despite our quarrels in the past. We would like to remind you that should you need anything, we will be among those willing to aid you in whatever way we can.”

“Aye,” Robbard Mooton reluctantly said after a brief pause, “House Mooton as well.”

Benjicot barely registered Lord Perryn's words. The weight of the day—his father's death, the responsibility of Raventree, and now the unexpected pledges of support—crashed down on him. He nodded numbly, tightening his grip on Serra as if she were the only anchor keeping him grounded.

"Your loyalty is appreciated," Benjicot muttered, his voice hoarse, struggling to find the right words. "I will remember this."

Serra pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her hand slipping into his as if sensing his turmoil. The warmth of her touch steadied him, though the storm within raged on. He could feel eyes on him—Perryn, Mooton, all the gathered lords—waiting for him to speak, to take command of his father’s legacy. But all he wanted was to escape this suffocating air, to retreat from the weight of expectation that seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

Instead, he straightened, meeting Lord Perryn’s gaze with as much composure as he could muster. "You honour my father’s memory with your words. Raventree thanks you, and I will ensure your loyalty is not forgotten."

Lord Perryn bowed his head once more, satisfied, though Benjicot could feel the subtle pressure behind the man’s gaze—there would be expectations now, alliances to be honoured, promises to be kept. Robbard Mooton gave a stiff nod, his reluctance still evident, but even he couldn't ignore the power shift.

The murmur of voices behind them began to swell, the lords discussing the future of the Blackwoods, already talking strategy and alliances. It felt like a faraway hum in Benjicot’s ears.

Serra pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his, “Ben,” she whispered, "we don’t have to stay here." Her voice, tender and filled with concern, was a balm to the overwhelming weight pressing on him. "We can go… take a moment."

He looked down at her, the soft kindness in her eyes soothing the jagged edge of his grief. For the first time since he’d heard the news, Benjicot felt something other than rage or sorrow. It was a quiet longing for a reprieve, even if just for a moment.

With a short nod, he turned toward the gathered lords. "If you'll excuse us," he said, his voice carrying a finality that left no room for objection.

Without waiting for a response, he gently guided Serra away, her presence beside him the only comfort in the chaos that had swallowed his world. As they moved further from the crowd, the voices behind them faded into the background, and Benjicot let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

They reached the edge of the courtyard, the cool evening air brushing against his skin, and Benjicot finally stopped. Serra turned to face him fully, her hand slipping into his again.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, but in that moment, it was all he needed.

He closed his eyes and let the grief finally settle. His father was gone, and the weight of his house now rested on his shoulders, but for now—for just a moment—he allowed himself to feel the solace of her presence, the promise of tomorrow yet to come.

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Welcome Home | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Cassian x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After seeing how fun you have with Cassian, Azriel decides to test out a form of punishment... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, mean/possessive Azriel (because of a potion), scared by mate (?), alludes to SA, (I honestly don't know what to warn here, read the original request for context), not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

While Azriel was on a mission, you decided to spend time with your best friend and the other deadly warrior of the Inner Circle, Cassian.

You were having a fun time with him, running around with some odd game he had created. Cassian, seemingly, kept changing the rules. You popped up behind a shrub of the garden, jumping on his back. "Mr. Illyrian Warrior, sir, you cannot keep changing the rules to make yourself win." You giggled.

"Foul! No jumping on the backs of winged faeries!" He called out, trying to shake you off. You giggled even more, dropping down onto the floor.

"Cass, seriously," you scorned, crossing your arms. "Tell me the actual rules of the game so we can properly play!"

You felt like a child pouting next to her older brother, but sometimes it was all you needed to let go a little bit. Forget the wars and politics that plagued the Inner Circle of the Night Court for just half an hour and play a stupid game, which involved you chasing Cassian around the garden. To what end? He still hadn't told you.

Cassian was the first one you met from the IC. He found you in the outskirts of Velaris, shivering at the end of a very small stream. In the middle of winter. You had been thrown out of your home by your father. You were trying to make it to Velaris when you encountered an incredibly vicious male who only wanted one thing from you.

Luckily, you fought him off and ran away, but not without falling down a rocky hill and cracking your ribs. That was when Cassian found you, patrolling the forest for a few run away soldiers. You were scared by him at first, not letting him anywhere near you.

But when he lowered and tucked in his wings, crouched down to be even lower than you, you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. The kindness in his eyes spoke enough.

So you let him take you in his arms and fly you into the city, settling with Madja to take care of you. For a week he sat by your side, wanting nothing other than to make sure you were okay, after he found the male that had hurt you... and sent Rhys to deal with your family.

After that, you showed your knowledge of spell cleaving, your mother a strong female from the Day Court, and became a quick member of the Inner Circle. After years of working and getting to know each member, you quickly fell in love and mated with Azriel. Your official acceptance of the bond was just about a year ago, meaning you were still learning a lot of new and exciting ways to make your lives even richer in love.

"Cassian!" You yelled as he picked you up and set you on top of a bench, peering down at him.

"You stay there for five seconds, eyes closed, and you have to catch me somewhere in the garden." He said.

"And what do I win if I do?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Extra dessert?" He teased and you narrowed your eyes.

"Deal." You said, closing your eyes and counting to five.

You opened your eyes and instead found your mate, peering up at you. With a look of lust and desire on his face, but something else tugged at the bond. Was that jealousy? You couldn't tell nor did you have time to decipher it because the next thing you knew, Azriel was carrying you up to your bedroom. He didn't even take the stairs, instead winnowing up to the room. Before you were even orientated, he was setting you on the bed and immediately pinning you down.

You quickly became overwhelmed by not only the change of scenery so quickly, but the scent that leaked from your mate. And the anger in his eyes. Did you do something wrong?

You let out a squeak when Azriel trailed his hand up your loose fitting shirt, grabbing hold before tearing it in half. "Azriel! What are you doing?" You managed to say, trying to scoot back from his grasp, your breath quickening. Azriel must have been so devoured by lust, or whatever it was, that he didn't hear you. Or.. didn't care?

"You are mine, understand? No one else's." He growled. Not a sensual one that drove you crazy most of a time, but more crazed. More desperate. "And I'm going to show you exactly how much you belong to me."

Your past, with the cruel male in the forest, flashed through your mind. You begged down the bond for him to stop. You shook your head again, eyes widened when he leaned back.

You took the opportunity and scrambled away, almost tripping over your feet as you ran from the bedroom. You ran down the stairs, hearing Azriel call your name. You whimpered, looking back to see him slowly stalking towards you. You made your way back to the garden, only to run into a hard wall. No, not a hard wall, Cassian.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your missing shirt, the silver lining your eyes, and your quick breathing.

"He- I don't know. Cass please make him stop." You said and wrapped your arms around his waist. He quickly looked up, noticing the stalking male now seething at the sight of his mate and his brother embracing.

Cassian soothed you, pulling you behind him. "Azriel... you need to stop." He said firmly, going into the protective warrior mode. Why was Azriel acting like this?

"Get away from my mate." He growled. There it was again. That crazed tone.

Then it his him. Cassian smelled the potion on him as he closed the gap between them, meaning to knock Cassian to the ground. "Azriel, this isn't you." He said, gripping his shoulders. Azriel's eyes darkened, moving to hit Cassian again. Cassian was faster, knocking him unconscious with a quick knock to the head. He stood for a moment, making sure that Azriel was indeed not waking up before he called for Rhys to get Madja here as soon as possible. Then he turned to you.

You were still shaking, arms wrapped around yourself as you cowered against the wall. You were never like this anymore. You were strong and independent and didn't need help from any of the warriors you called your family. Not after you learned to defend yourself.

But everyone was so overwhelming, you forgot all that training. You felt like the fragile female on that river bank again.

Cassian slowly approached you, again tucking in his eyes and bowing below your eye level. "Hey," his voice was barely above a whisper, "can I take you to your room?" He asked and you quickly shook your head, not wanting to go where Azriel had taken you. "My room?" He offered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around Cassian's neck as he picked you up carefully and took you to his room. He made sure you settled down, bringing you tea and your favorite comfort snack. Once you had eaten and stopped shaking, he lulled you to sleep with some very off key humming. Nothing like Azriel normally did when nightmares awoke you. Either way, by night fall, you were tucked into what was Cassian and Nesta's bed, sound asleep. No stutter of breath or shift in movement.

Cassian walked out of the room and crossed his arms when he found Madja and Azriel in the living room.

"I didn't even know it until I drank it... it smelled normal." Azriel finished saying, his eyes clear.

Cassian stalked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What in the Cauldron did you do to her?" He growled.

"Cassian! Get off of him." Madja said and swatted at his arm. Cassian quickly let go of his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed. "He had a jealousy potion in his system. One that, from the sounds of it, makes mates even more possessive of their partners. And will drive them to the brink of madness if anyone even looks at their mate."

"He hurt her." Cassian seethed.

Azriel's eyes flashed with hurt. He looked like he had been through hell. Good, Cassian thought, let him rot there a little longer.

"Cass, you know I would never hurt her intentionally." He said, frowning.

"You better talk to her in the morning.. but leave her alone tonight." Cassian demanded, not even wanting to talk with his brother right now. Rhys, who had been standing in the corner this whole time, decided not to chip in. While he was close to you, he wasn't nearly as must of a friend to you as Cassian was. He knew Cass would defend you no matter what, he saw you as a little sister. And if Cassian deemed that you needed space from Azriel, your mate, right now, he was probably right.

"I will..."

You were groggy when you woke up the next morning, not recognizing the scent of your mate or the feeling of the sheets. The events from the past day came back to you and you frowned.

It was then that you realized Azriel sat next to the bed, sleeping in a chair tucked in the corner.

You tentatively sat up, knowing there had to be an explanation of what he did. He had never acted like that with you before. Even when you were trying new things in the bedroom, he was always slow and considerate.

"Azriel..." You whispered, your timid voice betraying the courage you worked up in your mind. You reached for the glass of water next to the bed, slowly drinking as Azriel shot up in the chair.

"(Y/N)... sweetheart, I am so sorry." He said, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed. You pulled back from his touch, tucking in the glass of water against your chest. "It's not an excuse, but I was under the influence of a potion. If I had known the effects, I would have gone as far away from you as possible. But it didn't kick in until I saw you with Cassian and I was so jealous of the two of you all of the sudden and-"

"Az. You're ranting." You said, a small smile coming to your lips. As soon as he mentioned the potion, you remembered the strange smell that coated his scent. It wasn't like anything you had scented on him before, and you were glad it was just a potion and you wouldn't again.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, eyes pleading you to understand him. You slowly set the glass down on the nightstand, resting your hand over one of his.

"Promise you will never do that again?" You asked quietly.

He let out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. "Yes, I swear on my life I will never do what I did to you yesterday. Never again." He said and shook his head.

You brought your other hand up to cup his cheek. "Well then..." you trailed off, leaning forward. "Welcome home." You sealed the statement with a soft, sweet kiss.

A/N: Okay, hope you enjoyed! I had a hard time thinking of any reason that Azriel would intentionally harm/force himself on his mate, so hopefully this makes sense!

Main Masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Time.

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.

Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots

Word Count - 4329

Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

It’s been 6 days since you were shot.

6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.

You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.

The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.

The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.

The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.

The rest of it? Blurry as night.

You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.

You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.

All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.

Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.

It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.

The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.

Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.

The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?

“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”

That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.

So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.

None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.

So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.

Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.

“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”

Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.

Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.

“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.

“Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”

You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.

“You here to babysit me?” you tease.

He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.

“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.

He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.

“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”

His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.

“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”

He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Yes ma’am.”

He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.

“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.

You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.

“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”

You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.

He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.

“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.

“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.

He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.

Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.

Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.

“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”

All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”

Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Benny nods. Will trusts him.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”

Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.

Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.

You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.

Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.

Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.

He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.

The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.

When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”

Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.

The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.

“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”

“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.

That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.

“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”

You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?

But instead, you continue.

“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”

You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.

“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”

He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.

“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”

Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”

You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.

You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.

You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will doesn’t visit.

He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.

He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.

He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.

And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.

He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.

You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.

“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.

“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.

He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.

“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”

His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.

“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”

He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.

Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.

The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.

You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.

“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”

“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”

He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.

“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.

“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”

You have time.

You have time.

[imawreck]

Killer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Ghost joins the team to capture Strucker and take out the enhanced soldiers.

Author’s Note: This chapter isn’t as edited because I was a hurry to get it out! So I apologize for any grammatical errors.

Warnings: lots of death and gore, vengeful female rage, violence

Word Count: 2,380

Snow-

My heart hammered in my rib cage and my mind buzzed with adrenaline. Bodies laid strewn across the pavement and blood was smeared against my mask, rouge blurring half of my vision.

I retrieved my weapons from the lumps of flesh at my feet and trudged forward almost mechanically. My limbs ached, but the mission wasn't over until all of them had fallen. My sword dangled from my hand, scraping against the pavement. I searched for the others and found them soon enough, surrounding each other and battling against what looked like the remaining Super Soldiers. To the right of them, I spotted the Red Witch with her magic swirling around a horde of angry men. They shouted in Russian, roaring with rage. I hadn't yet seen Strucker, but I was certain he was here with us.

I counted the fallen soldiers, seven dead, meaning there were still five left but only three had been fighting with the rest of the avengers. Strucker was surely using the other two as a shield. They were more than likely his best trained.

I picked up the pace, angling myself towards the fight. Hawkeye looked injured and Stark fought on the ground, more than likely due to his metal suit running out of long-distance artillery to use against them as he was fighting back-to-back with the Captain.

I launched myself onto the nearest opponent, blade in hand, and sank it into his neck while he was distracted. Steve's eyes flickered in fear as he caught my own, but I didn't have time to spare as another soldier careened into me, tearing a hole in my side with her blade. I roared in pain, gripping my wound.

Captain muttered something that I didn't catch in the chaos around us. I focused hard on the pain, visualizing my skin lacing back together. I reached up, yanking the mask off my face, and rested my gaze on the woman wielding the bloodied knife. I glared at her, feeling my wound seal shut. Her face was white, and her eyes were trained on mine. I slid a knife from my belt- one of the last few that I had been able to retrieve- and released it towards her. Her arms flew up to block, leaving me with the perfect opening for a swift second attack. I gripped my sword, dipping low and plunging it into her abdomen between two plates of armor. I rose to meet her eyes, watching as she sputtered for words as the light left her eyes and her form dropped.

Stark had made do with his grounded suit and finally beat the last soldier, leaving the team winded but alive. He spoke into the comms, "Thats ten down, anyone seen the missing two?"

Captain returned his question, "No, I saw all twelve in the beginning of the fight, but I couldn't keep an eye on them all when they started to split up."

I leaned down to grip my mask, slowly wiping the blood off the eyes. "Strucker will be using them as bodyguards. They will likely be the most well-trained of the twelve. I can take care of them."

Captain glanced down at my side, "You're wounded, you shouldn't take them on alone."

I eyed him, "It's healing as we speak. I am more than capable of fighting. Those soldiers were hard enough for the three of you to keep off, I’m more suited for handling this situation." I slid the mask back in place, "Help the Witch, she looks like she's about to-"

I was interrupted by a distinct clapping in the distance. Three sets of footsteps. "Ghost! I didn't think you survived the ice. How pleasant it is to see you, Darling!"

My blood ran cold and every muscle in my body tensed like a spring. I whipped around, watching the man of my nightmares waltz towards us. Strucker stood behind two rather large men, obviously the missing soldiers, with a grin plastered on his ugly face. "Have you missed me?" His voice was like shards of glass in my ears.

I couldn't speak, I was frozen as the memories hit me in waves.

The torture, the blood, screams echoing against the stone walls, cold, always dark. He was always there watching.

Steve came to stand beside me, his shield raised. He spoke lowly, "Don't let him get in your head, we have to take him with us. We need you here and now, the team can't complete this mission without you."

Complete the mission. Familiar blue eyes flashed in my mind, and memories followed with them.

His cries, his muddled mind, his scars. All because of the man standing in front of me.

White hot rage began to pool in my stomach. I dropped my weapon, letting it clatter against the cement, and I slipped further into the soldier I had once been.

Complete this mission.

I removed the mask, dropping it at Steve's feet. He watched me with questioning eyes, "Snow?"

I began walking forward, slow at first, picking up the pace as the two soldiers in front of Strucker took a defensive stance and unsheathed their own weapons. My pulse thrummed in my head as Strucker's laugh echoed across the emptiness of the compound, and the roar of the soldiers trapped in the Red Witch's magic quieted instantly. "I was disappointed in the performance of the other soldiers. They were poorly trained to take you on. Obviously, putting you in the chamber hasn't dulled your skills, has it? Of course not, my perfect soldier." He gestured grandly to the two men in front of him, "But these two are my greatest yet. I would say, even better than you, my dear. No flaws, just perfect puppets." The two men turned to him, waiting for his command. His smile was wiry, fueling my anger, and the word left his lips. "Attack."

There wasn't a moments delay. The two moved swiftly and their blows were practiced and effective. They were much stronger than the last ten, and trained far better than the others just like I'd predicted. Ther fists knocked against my arms, occasionally catching my ribs. I took the onslaught, throwing my arms up to cover my head and watching their movement through the gap to try and catch a pattern. My fingers ached as I forced my nails through the skin and focused them into to deadly points, another gift from Hydra, and waited for their movements to repeat.

I swiped out when an opening presented itself, reaching through the tangle of their arms and plunging my nails into the throat of the soldier to my right while kicking hard enough to send the other skidding a few feet from me. My claws pressed deeper into the soldiers' flesh before I removed them with a sickening shluck.

He sputtered with his eyes blown wide, hands flying up to stop the blood from oozing out as I clutched my still healing side he had hammered with his fist.

I swung around to face the second soldier.

I yelled out while keeping my eyes on him, "Do you know why I am the best, Commander?" There was an animalistic tremor, the excitement of the hunt, running through me as I made my way towards him.

The remaining soldier barreled forward, and I darted out of his reach before slipping behind him and ripping a hole in the back of his knee. He dropped down with a scream of pain, swinging out with his arm. I dove for his other knee, making quick work of it. "I am not a puppet," I circled around the man on his knees before me, just out of his grasp.

He growled like a cornered animal as he swiped through the air, his eyes were clouded and grey. Off, somehow. An empty shell of a man. "The things you thought made me weak? They drive me much more than any given command ever could."

Strucker held his arms up defensively although I was too far to strike him. I yanked the knife from the corpse of the first soldier and chucked it through the air to finish off the second one. I took my time crossing the pavement towards his shaking figure, "There is no one left for you to hide behind now. Face me, look at what you've made."

His mouth gaped open and then shut, open and shut, like a fish out of water. He was backpedaling now, though there was no point. He couldn't outrun me, he couldn't hide. When he turned to try, I bent down and yanked out the grappling hook Tony had graciously given me, tucked away in my boot, and fired it off. The claw sank deep into his calf, and he cried out, falling hard against the concrete. I yanked the cord, pulling him towards me, "Surrender."

Strucker scoffed, clawing at his boot through his muffled yowls and pulling out a small revolver. He fired it off. The bullets sailed past me. His arm was too shaky to aim straight. I gripped his wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand and swiftly spinning to pin it against his skull. "I won't say it again."

Fear leaked out of his pores in waves, and it swam in the air just under my nose. Just before the urge to end his life here on this ground grew too strong, there was a firm hand on my shoulder, jolting me from its consumption. "Snow, that's enough." It was the gentle voice of the Captain. "Let's take him and the others in. Clint and Wanda need medical attention and rest, and so do you."

Immediately, my hand fell. I turned away from him, but as I did, Strucker's pitiful voice raked against my eardrums. "You still take orders like a bitch."

I gritted my teeth, whipped around and slammed the butt of the gun into his temple, knocking him unconscious.

I glared at his fallen body and then swiveled my head to face the contained soldiers in the Red Witch's cage. My voice roared over the silence, "You will surrender with your Commander, or you will die here!"

I took one look at a flabbergasted Steve and gripped the front of Strucker's uniform, dragging the useless excuse of a human back to the ship.

_____

Bucky-

The team had been gone far longer than Tony had calculated. Two hours too long actually, and my nerves had started to get to me. I sat in the commons room trying to ease my nerves with some bourbon. Banner and Natasha had turned in for the night due to her exhaustion. He had insisted that he should be staying with her in case she needed anything. I knew it wasn't just that, obviously, but who was I to deny him his comfort? The time seemed to be dragging and my thoughts swam with worry. What could possibly be taking them this long? Had something gone wrong? I always worried about Steve when Tony didn't put us on the same mission, but now there was something else that made my hands sweat and my thoughts muddle with anxiety.

Snow.

Even the small friendship we had conjured up caused my heart to ache more for her. The feelings I had thought were strong before had doubled tenfold throughout her time here. The soldier was still inside of me, I knew that, but it was getting harder for me to discern my feelings for her from his.

Friday's delicate voice rang through the room, "The Quinjet has landed."

I sprang up and launched myself towards the elevator doors, ignoring the subtle pain resonating through my side. Pain could wait. The elevator took its sweet time to level out before the doors slid open to allow me to exit onto the landing floor. I hustled towards the jet, looking around as the medics made their way in too. Clint was carted away on a bed and yelled about his legs working just fine but he didn't make an effort to get off as they rolled him through the doors. Next was Wanda, who was wheeled out much like Clint. She looked exhausted, barely keeping her eyes open as they adjusted her on the bed. Steve followed her out on his own, taking a long look as the group of medics wheeling Wanda the same way they took Clint.

I made my way to him, looking him over for any serious injuries. "Are you alright? You guys are really late."

Steve nodded, moving his hand up to rest it on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm alright Buck. Most of us got out of there without a scratch. We got Strucker, and well..." He glanced back at the jet. "The Super Soldiers are all dead."

My eyes widened, "You killed them all?"

He shook his head, "It was insane out there, Bucky."

I looked over his shoulder, searching for white hair. "Where's Snow and Stark?" When I returned my gaze to my friend his face was contorted in a grimace.

"Her and Tony took Strucker to get stitched up and take him into an interrogation room. Tony called in the feds too. He wants Strucker out of the building and behind bars as soon as possible." Steve nodded towards the med bay, "I think Tony will be leaving Snow in with the medical team to check out her wounds. She was stabbed, but it healed almost on the spot. Tony wanted to get her x-rayed to make sure her insides were healing alright."

I nodded, hesitating for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little more shaken up than normal."

Steve met my eyes and held them for a long moment. "She spoke in Russian on the mission. Snow was an entirely different person once that hanger door shut. She took that battle personally. The way she handled them, Bucky..." He couldn't seem to finish his sentence, but I understood. It couldn't have been pretty.

"I should go see her, she’ll need someone after all this."

Steve nodded but he looked far away. I left him in the hangar and headed towards the med bay in hopes to find Snow.

Tags <3

@imdoingathingmom / @cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22

[keiththecat]

Trading Hurts

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader (You)

Summary: You're a lifelong hunter, and you help out the Winchester brothers, saving Sam's life and risking your own. Your fast feelings for Sam scare you and you run away. What will happen when you run into the brothers again?

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, series typical violence and monsters, weapons, hurt/comfort, medical procedures, cursing

Author's Note: Hello friends! Second ever fic here. Had to show some love for the other Winchester brother too! As always, Y/N is your name, and feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading <3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of the related characters. The Supernatural series is created by Eric Kripke and owned by The CW Network. This work of fan fiction is for entertainment only. I am not making a profit of any kind from this story. All rights of the original Supernatural series belong to The CW Network.

AO3 link here

“Sam! Look out!” Dean yells as he sinks his silver blade into the heart of the werewolf he’s been wrestling.

Sam is standing over a werewolf he just killed. He turns around to see why Dean yelled, feeling claws tear the flesh on his left side as he turns. His right hand goes to the wound, his knife falls from his left hand, and he makes eye contact with the wolf as it roars. The roar quickly turns into a look of confusion and hurt before the wolf collapses in front of Sam. Behind the wolf, you are left standing in front of Sam, smirk on your face and blood-covered knife in hand, “Hi, I’m Y/N. Looked like you could use some help.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I’m Sam.” Sam says, still holding his side. Damn, she’s gorgeous, he thinks to himself.

“Not a probl-“ you’re cut off by a werewolf suddenly behind you, grabbing you by the neck and throwing you into a nearby tree. Everything goes black. 

The next thing you know, your eyes snap open in the back of a car. Your head is propped up by something warm and you feel like you can’t breathe. Your body is in so much pain, it feels like you’re on fire. You start to panic, willing your body to move to find a way out.

“Hey, no, you’re okay,” Sam’s face comes into view above you. You realize your head is propped up on his lap and he’s trying to hold your arms down so you don’t flail around. “I need you to look at me and take a second, Y/N.”

You try to calm down. You look into his hazel eyes and your mind tries to catch up. Well, you think, if this is how I go, at least I get to look into a touch of Heaven first. 

You try to remember how you got here. “Right,” you start, voice raspy, “werewolves. Winchesters.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow, “You know who we are?”

You nod and then wince when it causes a jolt of pain like lightning through you. 

“Sorry, right, not important right now,” his voice continues, “you’re injured pretty badly. We’re on our way to the hospital to get-”

“No!” You cut him off. “Please, no hospitals.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam takes your hand in his, then makes eye contact with his brother who’s driving. “No hospital.” He looks back at you, “Can we at least take you to our bunker to-“

“Sammy,” Dean warns. “We don’t even know her, you want to take her to the bunker?”

“What other option do we have, Dean? Cas is busy and not answering. She’s injured because she saved me!”

“Uh, hello? I’m right here.” You interject awkwardly. “You can just drop me at my motel room, I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse alone before.”

“No, we’re taking you to our bunker and doing what we can to fix you up. It’s the least we can do.” Sam leaves no room for argument. Dean grumbles under his breath in the front seat but keeps driving.

You try to mentally take stock of your injuries. Hm, you think, definitely a few broken or at least bruised ribs. Probably a concussion. I feel wet and sticky so I’m sure I’m bleeding somewhere but must not be too bad since I’m still alive. For now, at least, I guess.

Sam continues holding your hand and mindlessly running his fingers through your hair until the car eventually stops and is shut off. Dean gets out of the car first, “I’ll get stuff set up in the infirmary.”

Sam eases himself out from under your head, then turns back toward you. “Can I, um-“ he reaches his arms toward you.

“Carry me? I can probably walk.” You start to sit up, but you’re hit with a tidal wave of nausea and fall back to the seat. You take as deep a breath as you can manage, pushing the nausea away as best you can, “Okay, maybe not. Would you mind?”

“No, no, not at all,” he insists. Suddenly you’re in his arms, he’s walking, and you’re wondering what kind of muscles he has hidden under all that plaid. He laughs under his breath a little, cheeks and ears turning red. You realize you must have wondered out loud. “Sorry,” you say, turning to hide your face against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Probably the best compliment I’ve had in a while.”

He makes his way to what you assume is the infirmary. Dean is setting out supplies for bandages, stitches, and wound cleaning next to an old cot. Sam gently places you down on the cot. “Are you okay with me checking out your wounds and cleaning you up some?”

You respond in the affirmative. Dean is standing a few feet away, leaning against another cot, staring at you. “So how long have you been a hunter? What’s your deal?”

“Dean,” Sam says, and fixes him with a look. “Can’t this wait?”

“It’s fine, Sam,” you touch his arm. You lean forward, reach over, grab shears and hand them to Sam. “Start with my back, it hurts the worst.”

Sam looks at you for a moment, then gets to work cutting your shirt open from behind. He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “How’s the damage back there, Sam?” You ask.

“Well, you’re definitely gonna hurt for a while. I’ll have to stitch a few wounds back here, and you’re already bruising.” He prods his way down your back on each side, “Feels like a few broken ribs, too.”

You realize you’ve had your eyes closed, relaxing to his voice even as he delivers the news. “I figured. Just do what you can please.”

Sam starts cleaning and stitching what he can. You explain that you’ve been a hunter since birth, your mother dying in childbirth and your now deceased father raising you in the hunting life until he died when you were barely a teen. Then you tell them how Bobby Singer has treated you like his own. 

“How come we’ve never ran into you before then? We’re at Bobby’s all the time.” Dean asks, still seeming skeptical.

“I haven’t been back there in years. Even when I was there, I stayed for a few hours max. I keep busy,” you explain, “I didn’t grow up in one place, so it always felt weird to stay stagnant. Felt dangerous.”

“Like things could catch up to you if you stopped moving,” Sam says quietly from behind you, his large but gentle hands continuing to sew a large gash down your back from the tree. You nod as best you can without making the pain worse.

“Alright,” Dean says, “you can stay as long as you want. At least stay until you’re healed. The place is warded, you’ll be safe here. You got this, Sammy?”

“Yeah, we’ll be good.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go clean the blood out of Baby and hit the hay.” Dean leaves, throwing a wave over his shoulder.

“Baby? I assume that’s his car?” You ask.

Sam laughs lightly, “yeah.”

Silence passes between you two, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Sam finishes with your back, and then you feel him gently place something over your back, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment. You’re hit with a wave of his smell, and you realize he placed his plaid shirt on you. He comes around in front of you, now in a short sleeve black V neck that lets you see exactly how ripped he is. Holy muscles, you think, so that’s how he carried me so easily.

“I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. You seem to be okay mentally so far, but let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

You laugh a little, looking away shyly to break your stare, “yeah, sounds good to me. Thanks, Sam.”

“No, thank you for saving me.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, do you need stitched up too? He scratched you before I got him, didn’t he?” You reach for his side, mentally smacking yourself for forgetting.

“No, no, I’m okay. Not deep enough to need stitches, I don’t think.” He brushes you off, glancing down at his side where the shirt is torn, long but thin scratches peeking out underneath. 

“If you say so. But seriously, thank you. You definitely saved me back there.” You say, slowly getting yourself up. He reaches out to place a hand under your elbow, helping to steady you once you’re on your feet. Your hand falls to his bicep, and you bring your other hand to rest on his chest. “Damn, you’re built like a tree. Is that a Winchester thing?”

Sam bursts into laughter, his adorable dimples bracketing the most gorgeous smile you think you’ve ever seen. His cheeks and ears are turning red again. “Aw, is Samuel blushing?” You tease.

This was the start of your crush. Except you couldn’t even call it a crush, you were instantly head over heels in love with the taller Winchester. It hit you like a hurricane. So sweet, attentive, selfless, and that’s not even mentioning his smoking hot body. Silky chestnut hair, deep hazel eyes full of emotion. But instead of giving in to the temptation and telling him how you feel, you left just two days later. You couldn’t bear the thought of being rejected by him, or of being so close to him but so distant at the same time. So you asked Dean to drive you while Sam was out on a run, not wanting to have to say goodbye to him. Dean took you back to your motel and your belongings, leaving you with nothing more than a “call if you need anything” and his number. You’ve kept in contact with Dean, mostly sending memes and jokes to each other, and doing your best to not ask about his brother. Turns out Dean has a knack for dad jokes, sending you at least one a day, more if he thought you were having a bad day. You’d consider him your best friend, even though he’s really the only person you talk to anymore besides Bobby on occasion. Dean has come a long way from his skepticism when you burst into their lives, considering you like the sister he never had.

Now, four months later, you have run into the brothers again. You’re in a small town in Missouri hunting some vampires, when you spot the Winchesters walking into a diner.

“Hey, tall and taller, got room at your table for one more?” You call out.

The brothers turn around, confused. Dean’s eyes lock onto you first, and he opens his arms for a hug. “Hey, loser, what are you doing here?” He asks. 

You jog a few steps, falling into his arms for a few seconds. “Hunting some suckers. Guessing you’re here for the same?”

“Actually yeah, wanna save little Sammy’s ass again like last time?” Dean jokes, his eyes lit up in mirth.

Sam shakes his head, lips pressed together, rolling his eyes. “That was one time, it won’t happen again. And since when are you guys close? You disappeared months ago, Y/N. We haven’t heard from you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I, uh, got called away for something,” you lie, hoping Sam won’t notice and Dean won’t call you out. “Dean and I have kept in touch though.” You playfully hit Dean on the shoulder.

Sam tries not to feel hurt that you have talked to his brother all this time but not him. And you’ve clearly talked enough to get close, Dean doesn’t hug just anyone.

“Well, come on,” Dean says, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “I’m starved.”

You all make your way inside, sitting at a booth. The boys sit on opposite sides, and you debate who to sit next to for a moment too long, then you slide in next to Dean. Sam notices your hesitation, but buries his face in the menu.

You all order and eat your meal, sharing stories about all the hunts you’ve had in the last few months. 

“No wonder we’ve had it easier recently, Dean. You didn’t tell me Y/N was taking care of so much,” Sam says.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” Dean says, mouth full of pie. “Asshats got ganked, people got saved.”

“Yeah but we could have helped out more.”

“I was fine, Sam. I like keeping busy, remember?” You say, then turn to Dean, “Speaking of, do you know yet where we’re looking here?”

Sam speaks up before Dean can, “actually yeah. We’ve narrowed it down to two warehouses on the outskirts. We’re planning to go check them out after we get a room.”

“Perfect,” you state, looking at Sam. “You boys wanna ride together from the motel since we’re all going to the same place?”

“Sounds good,” Dean says.

You all get up and leave, piling into your cars and going down the street to a motel. The boys get a double room to share like always, you get a neighboring single. You go into your respective rooms to gear up for the hunt.

“What the hell, dude?” Sam says as soon as the door is closed behind Dean. 

“What?”

“Y/N is who you’ve been texting all the time? Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks, clearly hurt.

Dean looks at Sam for a moment before understanding crosses his face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Here, you want her number?” He pulls out his phone to pull up her contact and passes it to Sam.

“No, that’s- well, yes, but-“ Sam stumbles over his words.

“Look, it’s not like that with us, Sammy. We’re friends. That’s it.”

“Oh.” Sam lets that sink in and runs his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. So relax, she’s all yours. At least, she hasn’t mentioned being with anyone. I’d doubt she had time for it with the constant hunts she’s had. She’s worse than either of us have ever been with needing to keep moving.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sam says, saving her number in his phone and giving Dean’s back to him. 

“Well?” Dean asks.

“What?”

“Text her. Say it’s in case we get split up or something. Make up an excuse. Give her your number or I will.” Dean insists.

“Okay, okay, get off my back about it then, yeah?” Sam says. Dean throws his hands up in surrender, turning away to rummage through his duffel.

[Sam 5:55PM : Hey, it’s Sam. Dean gave me your number. Wanted you to have mine just in case]

A full minute passes, and Sam wonders if she will even respond. Then his phone dings with a notification.

[Y/N 5:56PM : Got it. Good thinking. You boys ready?]

[Sam 5:56PM : Yup, meet you at the Impala?]

[Y/N 5:57PM : Sure thing, Sammy Boy ;)]

Well, Sam thinks, I guess the winky face is a good sign? Maybe she does like me?

“You ready, Dean?” Sam asks, heading for the door.

“Let’s do this,” Dean says, grabbing Baby’s keys.

*

Half an hour later, you’re all sitting in the Impala outside the second warehouse. The first was empty except for rats and dust, no signs of bloodsuckers ever having been there. 

“Safe to assume this is it then, huh?” You ask, leaning forward between the boys and looking out the windshield. 

“Yeah. We all ready?” Sam asks.

You and Dean respond “yeah.” You all get out of the car, grabbing your machetes and forming a plan. There are three entrances to the building, you will all split up and take one. You’ll meet in the middle, and then go to the upper floors together. You nod at each of the brothers, and you all go your separate ways to enter.

The front door creaks open, and you slowly make your way inside. The day’s last light is filtering in through the windows. You have a flashlight in your back pocket but you’re trying to draw as little attention as possible. You make your way down the hallway, which opens into a large center room. As you come through the doorway, you hear grunts and sounds of fighting from the hallway to your right. That’s the door Sam came in, you think and your heart drops into your stomach when the noises stop but Sam doesn’t emerge. You start toward that hallway, and you’re met with five vamps carrying Sam’s unconscious body. They notice you, drop him, and advance on you before you can move any further.

“Dean!” You yell, starting to fight them off. You can’t keep track of where they all are, you just know that they are surrounding you and landing more hits than you are. Your back, arms, sides, and stomach are all taking hits and you struggle to get the upper hand. You manage to block a few hits and decapitate two of the vamps in quick succession, as you hear Dean’s footsteps thundering closer. That’s when you notice a large vampire standing over Sam. 

You fight even harder now, desperate to help the brothers and save Sam. You manage to shove one against a metal pole before cutting its head off in one swing. You kick one in the abdomen, surprising it and knocking it over. You drop to your knees, straddling the vampire’s chest, and swing your machete down on its neck. An arm from the other vamp you’re fighting snakes around your neck, choking you and pulling up into the air. With your body weightless and hanging in the air, you swing an elbow into its sternum and a heel into its knee. It lets go long enough for you to drop, turning as you go to swing out and cut its head off.

With these five dead, you can turn to help the Winchesters. As you run over, the vamp throws Dean a few feet, with Dean landing on his back and sliding across the floor. Jesus, you think, he looks even taller than Sam. You run and launch yourself at the vamp, knocking it back a few steps but not knocking it down. Glancing around the vamp, you can see Sam starting to come back around to consciousness. The vamp manages to grab you by your throat, lifting you into the air. You try slashing into its arm with your machete, but the grip it has on your throat doesn’t let up and you’re starting to see spots.

“Dean,” you manage to rasp out, your machete falling from your hand as you grow weaker,” get Sam and get out of here.”

Suddenly the vamp’s hand goes slack, its head rolling down and onto the floor. You fall to the floor, gasping and coughing for air, your hand on your neck. Sam is standing over the dead vamp, machete in hand.

“You okay, Y/N?” Dean comes up behind you.

You nod, still coughing.

“Sam?” Dean asks.

“I’ll be fine, it was just a good hit on the head.” He kneels in front of you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod again, “Guess we’re even now, huh, Sammy Boy?” 

The boys help you up and out to the car. You all ride back to the motel in silence. Dean is first out of the car and heading toward the rooms, leaving you and Sam behind in the Impala.

“You’ve got some blood on the back of your head,” you say.

Sam’s hand goes to the back of his head, coming back red. “Oh. Huh.”

Another moment passes, then you get out of the car and head to your door. As you’re unlocking it, you realize Sam is standing behind you. You glance over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Would you mind helping me clean it? The blood on my head, I mean. I’m sure you’ll be more gentle than Dean would.”

“Sure, Sam. Come on in.” You open the door and head in. He follows and closes and locks the door behind him, checking the salt lines.

“Have a seat wherever, I’ll grab some supplies,” you say, heading into the bathroom for some warm water and a washcloth.

When you re-enter the bedroom, Sam is sitting on the edge of your bed, looking out of place. You crawl onto the bed behind him on your knees and start cleaning the blood from his hair as gently as you can.

“So, um,” Sam starts, “why did you stay in touch with Dean?”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I just texted him one day and we hit it off. He’s pretty funny.”

Sam’s hums in response. You furrow your brow, “should I not have?"

"No, it's fine, I mean-," Sam stutters, "I just- um, maybe we can keep in touch this time?"

You’re taken aback, and you’re glad you're still behind Sam because you’re opening and closing your mouth like a fish for a moment. “Uh, yeah, Sam. I’d like that.”

“Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“Of course, Sam.”

“Did I do something to upset you last time? At the bunker?” When you don’t immediately answer, he continues, “Because I thought we were getting along and hitting it off and then I came back one morning and you were just gone.”

“No, Sam,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder and moving around so you’re in front of him. “You did nothing wrong. I got called away for something.”

“Okay,” he say, but he looks like he doesn’t believe you. Really, he looks like a kicked puppy and you can’t stand it. Fuck it, you think, I can’t have him thinking he did something wrong and looking at me like this. “Okay, I wasn’t called away. I, um,” you sigh. “Ilikeyouanditscaresme,” you rush out, avoiding eye contact.

A moment passes where nothing is said. You’re still looking away and you bring your thumb to your mouth to chew on the nail. He brings one hand up to pull your hand away from your face, and his other hand rests on your cheek. “Look at me, Y/N.”

You follow his command, meeting those hazel eyes, your heart feeling like it’s going to beat out of your chest. “I like you too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

You put your hand on top of his on your cheek. “Really?”

He nods, smiling and giving you a glimpse at those adorable dimples. He brings his other hand to your cheek, his large hands now framing your face, and he’s looking into your eyes for permission. You nod, and then his lips are on yours. You feel like your brain has short-circuited, and it takes a moment for your lips to move to match his. His tongue licks your lower lip, again asking for permission, and you gladly open up to let him inside. Wow, you think, this is earthshattering. 

You both pull away, keeping your foreheads together.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do this,” you say.

He opens his eyes, confused.

“This ‘feelings’ thing,” you explain, “I’ve never really done this before.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”

[moonaliisa]

🕯️ — as long as you stand by me

ABBY ANDERSON X (FEMALE) READER

summary :

coming back from a long day among your patrol to the wlf base in seattle, you are counting every seconds you have left before finally hugging your girlfriend.

bumping into a lot more people than expected, many emotions filled your mind until abby's fingertips touch your skin and lead you to focus only on the sound of her voice.

this story contains explicit sexual content ; fic, 13.046 words.

Repositioning your bag on the back of your two shoulders, you came to slide your fists into your back exerting pressure on it, a sharp groan slipping from your lips as it cracked. Today had been a long day, you left before sunrise and returned shortly after sunset. You were hungry, but more than anything, you were thirsty, your water bottle emptied since this afternoon and the idea of gulping down the hundredth burrito of these months drying out your throat.

"Well everyone, thank you all for your good work today. We are counting on you to come back in the next few days with the same motivation, and don't forget to register the supplies that you have all been able to bring back individually." your patrol nodded, a quick 'yeah' coming out of your mouths. The vehicles moving away from you, you all headed for the entrance to the base. The daily work was finally over.

When you joined the WLF, you refused to join the armed side of the Seattle militant organization. It wasn’t because fear told you so, but because you didn't share the same vision about settling the disputes over the territory as Isaac does. From that moment on, you had entered your name in the list of patrols responsible for searching clear areas for anything useful back in the base. You were deeply satisfied with the items you found today, walking near what looked like an old daycare, you had managed to get your hands on many children's clothes, diapers, toys, and other items that had been visibly missing for the past few months.

"Hey Pat." you said softly to the man in charge of distributing the weapons of the WLF. "Hey. How was today ?" he replied with a nod. "We did walked in on a few Runners but, other than that, it was kind of quiet." you answered, a polite smile on your face. "Good to hear. Any good finds ?" you handed him your two pistols, nodding positively. "Guess I'm going to make some parents happy today." he let out a quick chuckle. "Even better. Have a good rest." he said while turning his back at you laying down your arms. "You too, Pat." you finished, walking towards the dinning hall.

After writing down all of your finds, you finally sat down on one of the benches in the huge room, a burrito in your hand, a heavy huff leaving your body. Elbows on the tables, you began to unroll your meal from the paper in which it was rolled up. "Thought you'd come say hello to me first, amiga." you heard whispered in your ear making you jump. "God, Manny ! Stop doing that." you laughed placing a hand on your chest. "Didn’t mean to scare you." he lied, a growing smirk on his face. "Yeah, you never do, pendejo." you joked, punching him gently in the rib.

Shortly after you started dating with Abby, Manny, her ride or die, became a very close friend. Before that, you only knew him by his name which you had already heard mentioned many times by women in the WLF on subjects that you sometimes wish you could erase from your memory. When you don't really know this character, he can seem irritating at first, always filled with sarcasm and never know when to stop joking around. But that must probably be one of the reasons the two of you became close so quickly, you were a bit like that too, very much less extroverted in return.

"Come take a seat, amigo." you offered him, your hand patting the free space of the bench you were sitting on. "Appreciate it sweetheart, but I just finished mine. I should rather go take a shower." he replied smiling at you. "Oh so you do take showers huh ?" Manny gently punched your shoulder as you chuckled. "Wait, are you seeing someone tonight ?" you asked, slightly frowning. "A gentleman never tells." he raised both hands in the air. "Mhm 'gentleman' my ass." you rolled your eyes.

Looking quickly around and behind Manny, you couldn't spot Abby among the crowd of people in the dinning hall. "Abby’s not with you ?" you asked concerned. "Nah, el amor de tu vida looks like she overdosed on those burritos. She headed directly to y’all bedroom. Well, according to her." he replied with a smirk on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder. "Right. Can't blame her." you concluded, trying to avoid his gaze now filled with innuendo. "Guess I wasn't the only one planning on taking a shower tonight, huh ?" Manny was patting you on the shoulder. "You really are unbearable, cabrón." you said looking exasperated while he looked like he was having the time of his life.

Taking your first bite of the taste you knew too well, you slapped his hand off your shoulder which earned you another laugh from him. "I like you too, amiga." he said softly. "Have a great night." he added, this time, surprisingly, without his familiar cocky tone. "Have a great one too, amigo." you returned his genuine comment, but still emphasizing on the 'great' part. You watched him walk away, smiling to yourself and shaking your head.

While you are eating, you realize that you gradually and definitively no longer had the feeling of seeing all those eyes pointed at you, only with a few exceptions. Abby is a big name in the WLF, the female symbol of strength, the strongest soldier among them, Isaac's greatest weapon, Abby was also a figure of the movement. When your relationship started, you two were quite reluctant to show yourselves to everyone, apart from the people who were close to you.

None of you doubt the strong bond you had, but indirectly announcing it to what seemed like the world to you was a huge deal for both of you. Everything happened naturally, each taking the time she needed so that the ease of being seen no longer poses a problem. It started with you two being openly inseparable, no matter where you went, Abby was your shadow, an inseparable pair. Then, Abby became more tactile, one of her hands always on you, whether it's on your shoulder that she would stroke with her thumb, or the palm of her hand that she delicately placed in the crook of your back to be able to tell you that she is following your steps.

One day, Abby decided she was ready to hold your hand in public and ever since, her fingers were always intertwined with yours, that is the day the stares started to get more and more insistent, as if their burning eyes were going to urge the two of you to walk up to the tables, hand in hand, shouting the official status of your relationship. You two felt that heavy pressure on you in any room you walked into, the loud whispers, the faces turning one after the other.

Manny had never bothered to stare back at the members of the WLF who allowed themselves to stare at you for too long, you had the opportunity to see him in action several times. You had heard him sigh curses under his breath, sometimes some in Spanish that you couldn't even understand. In those moments, you’d try to meet his gaze and you would give him a reassuring smile, he would take a deep breath and no longer pay attention to the surroundings, or at least he would act like it.

A few weeks after holding your hands, during a small event organized by a team of gardeners to celebrate the most abundant harvest of the year, Abby had grabbed your face between her hands and kissed you tenderly for the first time. It was obviously not your first kiss, far from it, but it was your first outside private walls. It happened so easily, so naturally, you couldn't help smiling that day there and notice the small smirk that Abby was wearing too.

It didn't happen during a specific moment. It was completely unexpected, and it was certainly what you liked the most about this one. When you asked Abby 'why ?', she simply replied, blushing, that 'you were really pretty when you smiled at her' and so she hadn't thought. She just did whatever popped into her head at that exact moment, not thinking about who might see you. Actually, it’s been a long time since Abby didn't care.

Following this event, everyone started to pay less attention to you. It seems that Abby's 'official declaration' was enough to satisfy the too pronounced taste of some to meddle in what does not concern them. Knowing that your relationship was now almost no longer the attraction of the residents lifted a weight off your shoulder. From now on, many were no longer interested about it and to your delight.

Finishing your snack, you would get up throwing the paper of it in a trash can on your way. Currently, you only had one idea and desire in mind and it was to finally be able to find your partner and the reassuring home that her arms were. Your feet were already starting to get tired of carrying you, and you were already feeling the satisfaction that was the sensation of the hot water inside the shower running down your so tense body.

Facing the door leading to the hallway of the bedrooms, you put your hand on the doorknob. "Hey !" you heard coming from behind, and turning around, you saw Owen. "Hi." you greeted him. "I was wondering, uhm…" he paused, looking you in the eyes, trying to finish his sentence. "How have you been ?" Owen asked smiling, crossing his arm over his chest. "Oh well, uhm, I've been doing alright. We both are doing alright actually. What about you ?" you asked back, turning your head slightly to the side.

Owen uncrossed his arms, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He looked tense, you didn't know if it was because of the situation, or because of your current relationship, or maybe both. "Oh that’s- That’s cool. Well, we're doing great with Mel too, a little stressed of course but, everything’s perfect so far." he answered. "Right, I heard there wasn't much time left for you and Mel before the big day. I'm glad there's only good news." you nodded, and he took a breath. "I, huh…" he tried to start. "I also wanted to let you know that in the past, I know that I haven't always done the right things with Abby-" he didn't have time to finish "Yeah." before you cut him mid sentence.

You could tell he didn't expect you to approve from the way his body froze as soon as you said that word. "Listen, I know what you're trying to say. What you did to her, what you had with Abby, it belongs to the past. Now she moved on. We both moved on. It's just better we keep it that way." you said as nicely as possible. "Right." Owen replied simply, looking around. "And I do appreciate the effort you made coming up to me." you smiled briefly.

As he began to take a step back, you remembered. "Oh and, by the way, returning from patrol, I was able to bring back several items for children and newborns. So, if you ever need something you can just go and give it a look." he turned his attention back to you, smiling softly. "Oh that's some great news. I'll for sure take a look. Thank you." he nodded. "It's a good decision you made, walking away from… this, with Mel. It'll be a very great start for the children." you finished. "Yeah I think so too. Well, good night." he concluded. "Good night." you answered, pressing the doorknob under your palm.

Taking the endless stairs, you reached the corridor of the bedrooms. Turning to your left, it was only a matter of seconds before you finally reached the place you had been missing all day, or rather the person you would find there. And there it was, door number 203, the door separating you from heaven. Your eyes stopped on the writing just below, 'Anderson Abigail, Alvarez Manuel', time had passed and you still hadn't made a move for the secretariat to register the name changes of the residents, you would do it later, you thought.

Knocking on the door in your special way to both of you, you opened it. "I'm home." you declared, puffing slightly from tiredness. "I'm in the bathroom !" Abby shouted from there. Heavily removing your shoes on the floor, you hastened to unload the weight of your bag from your back, tossing it gently aside by the handle. Heading to the small kitchen on your right, you noticed that the sink was empty, meaning that Abby had taken care of the dirty dishes as soon as she got home. Opening a cupboard door above you, you grabbed a glass, filled it with water and it made you feel like you were alive again, your dry organs certainly thanking you.

Putting the glass on the edge of the sink and washing your hands, you then followed the earlier indications of your lover. "May I come in ?" you asked hesitantly. "Of course." she replied, chuckling. As the door opened, a heavy wave of heat hit you in the face, a thin layer of mist having formed inside. "Hi, you." Abby greeted you with that sweet and purring voice of her.

"Hi, Abigail." you purred back, getting closer to her as she smirked at your calling. You took the time to look at her, no matter how many times you did, you were still so blown away. Coming out of the shower, she was only wearing a towel rolled up around her lower waist. Her hair, still tied up, were losing a few damp strands sticking to her face and along her neck. A few drops of water were still dripping from the top of her temple, crashing onto her collarbones. Her torso, bare, leaving you with a full view of her muscular shoulders, strong arms, pretty sculpted chest, abs as visible as if they were drawn on stone, and the top of her mesmerizing v-line, all glistening from the humidity of the room. Just the sight of this woman had you weaked on your knees, and that wasn't a single complaint.

"Come here." she opened her arms, sounding desperate. "I'd love that, but I'm literally covered in sweat." she rolled her eyes at your comment. "You think that would stop me ?" she asked rhetorically, raising her eyebrows. "Of course not. But there is no way that I'm dirtying this perfect clean body of yours." you affirmed, pointing at her. "Ugh, then come here and give me a kiss, at least." she whined, her arms still open in your direction.

Now almost pressed against her, she grabbed your face in her hands, caressing your cheek with one of her thumbs. As she pulled her face closer from yours, you slipped your hand to the back of her neck, both of you pressing your warm lips together with want. As she deepened the kiss, Abby's tongue asked for permission to enter. Opening your mouth, her tongue slipped inside, starting a fiery dance with yours. "I missed you, stinky." she chuckled, out of breath.

A bright giggling coming out of your throat, you placed one of her wet locks behind her ear. "I missed you too, pretty girl. A lot." you admitted, your gaze deep into hers, Abby smiled, her cheeks puffing out, one of the cutest things you could ever see. She took your hand in hers, brought it to her mouth and kissed your knuckles. "Now get into that shower, before you make me go insane." she urged, looking you up and down, refraining from hugging you, as you asked her. "Roger that, Captain." you joked, making her shake her head.

Getting rid of your clothes, raising your arms, you pulled your shirt over your head. Folding it in your hands, you threw it away - or rather missed it - next to the top of a basket in which both of you placed the dirty laundry to be cleaned in the common laundromats of the base. "Nice shot, LeBron." Abby retorted, eyebrows raising and slowly nodding her head. "I'm a natural." you replied cockily, sliding your hands down the top of your cargo pants, untying it.

Sliding it down your legs, you could feel Abby staring at you, and raising your head, your gaze met hers directly. She was leaning against the edge of the sink, leaning on her forearms against it, a little smile and burning eyes on her face. "Enjoying the view, I take ?" you chuckled quietly. "Well, I ain't complaining, am I ?" she answered in a low tone, once again looking you up and down before you let out a quite timid chuckle. Not looking away, you ran your hands behind your back, unhooking the clip of your bra.

Your top now completely bare too, Abby's eyes were burning hotter on you than before and a quick shiver ran up your spine, you wondered if she might have noticed. Your underwear being the last garment to join all the others, you could turn around and open the shower door right behind you, not missing Abby's stare remaining on you while doing so.

"So, how was your day going ?" you promptly started the conversation, her gaze risking to make you melt. "Pretty typical. We spent the day on the front line, haven't run into that much Scars though, and cleared a few houses." she stated as you applied shampoo to the palm of your hand, applying it to your hair. "Isaac's still putting you in front line even if you have been since the beginning of the week ?" a hint of angriness in your voice, you frowned while massaging your scalp. "A downside of being one of Issac's right-hand soldiers. I guess." she tried to say reassuringly, a frustrated groan leaving your lips.

You were so pissed off that Isaac hardly ever gave Abby a break. Always putting her here or there, when he was mostly in his office writing down the next list of convoys he would send to the front. He treated her like she was blessed with some kind of unlimited energy, which she also never complained about to him. Actually, no one would really complain about anything Isaac would say to him. You couldn't even remember the number of times you risked knocking on his door to ask him to be more understanding of her, but you wouldn't want to give Abby the image of the girlfriend who would complain to her boss about some tiredness that wasn't hers. You also trusted Abby about the fact that she wouldn't stay quiet if tasks came to encroach on your free time together.

"What about you ?" she asked swiftly, seeing you getting nervous about this. "Pretty typical too." you answered drily, only the image of Isaac snoring with his two feet crossed on his desk while she was the one risking her life outside in mind. "Meaning… ?" she was trying to get you to go on, make you think about something else. "Our patrol was sent to one of the areas yours had cleared two days ago, and we got pretty lucky on that one actually, even though we walked in on some Runners." you started, now cleaning your upper body. "How many ?" Abby was quick to respond, concern in her voice. "Don't worry, the patrol only reported 5 in total." you tried to reassure her.

Slightly moving your face under the shower head trying to get some soap off your face, you could now see her face down and hands firmly gripping the edge of the sink. "Still, it's my job to make sure you're safe out there. Dammit, I thought we cleared properly." she said hoarsely. "And I'm sure you did." you retorted, her face turning to look at you. "They're always on the move, day and night. Some may have passed by after you Abs, and you know it." you said in a confident tone, now cleaning your lower body. "You did a perfect job." you finished, smiling at her.

"Whatever." was all she managed to say, averting her gaze from yours and staring at the wall in front of her. "Please, don't be so hard on yourself Abigail." you sadly said. Your voice sounding woeful, she looked at you again, breathing slowly. 'Abigail', it was just her name and yet she felt like no one ever called her that every time you did. She could hear you repeat it for hours and still feel her heart pounding on her thoracic cage. "Did you find anything worthwhile there ?" she asked, trying to take her mind off what you stated earlier.

You turned around letting the water run through your hair, smiling and nodding. "Yeah, I got my hands on a bunch of really great stuff." a smirk could be seen on your face. "What about it ?" Abby asked, matching your joy. "I walked past an old daycare. From the outside it looked like it was in a horrible state, but on the inside it was as if it had never been looted before." you happily explained to her. "You're joking." she said enthusiastically. "I'm not !" you joked out, the water now cleaning your entire body.

"I was able to get my hands on toys, clothes, diapers, bibs, and by calling part of the patrol we were able to bring back a few strollers !" you were listing your finds, a big smile across your face. "Always knew my girl was lucky charm." Abby said, crossing her arms over her chest. You met her gaze, not saying anything, just smiling at each other. Now finally washed, you opened the shower door, Abby already leaning over to the towel holder, grabbing yours.

Your feet on the bathmat, you leaned back clutching your hair in your hands, the water splashing against the shower floor. "Here." Abby whispered tenderly, handing you the towel. "Thank you." you said back in the same tone. Wrapping yourself entirely in it, you thought about who you met in the dinning hall. "Speaking of it." you started, Abby looking in your eyes again. "I ran into Owen earlier. Right after eating." you informed her, her brows furrowing slightly. "Did he said something to you ?" she asked troubled. "Not at all. He started to give me some kind of an excuse about the behavior he had with you, well, before I stopped him." she hummed at your answer, a little bit reassured.

"But it wasn't a disturbing conversation. We had a quick chat about how well Mel was doing and I told him about today's finds." you finished, stopping rubbing on your now dry body. "So, everything's good ?" waiting for your answer, she seemed more relaxed. "Everything's good." you affirmed, placing your hand on her cheek, stroking it gently with your thumb. "Then what are you waiting for ?" you wondered what she was talking about before she opened her arms again.

Giggling like a kid, you jumped into her arms, wrapping yours around her waist. She pressed her cheek to yours, placing her head in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Her lips brushing your skin, even after all this time, she still couldn't process the feeling of your skin against hers. You felt so honeyed, yet she was sure you felt her scratched. One of her hands moved to the back of your head, gently playing with your locks of hair. Her other hand came to detach the top of your towel that you had wrapped around your chest, leaving it hanging only at the bottom of your waist, just like her.

The little shiver that went through you due to the lost of the fabric around your naked body was quickly replaced by the warmth of her forearm passing around your waist and squeezing your side. The feeling of your two bare breasts pressed against each other was divinely indescribable, it could only be felt. So close, you could feel her heart beating against yours, the heat from her mouth dancing on your neck. Brushing your skin with her mouth, Abby still couldn't precess the tenderness of your skin. You were as pure as morning dew, as elegant as a rose that had just opened for the first time.

Abby longed to be able to be reborn, having a new body to give you, a gift that you could selfishly brag about being the only one to possess. Your touches offered her the home she had never had, came to comfort her in her darkest nights. How anyone other than her could boast of having found true love when you were right here in her arms. How so selfish could the brain be to pretend to be the heart by imprinting on her that old relationship path she had had with Owen.

Owen. A part of her still liked him no matter what he did, of course, he was the one present during the most traumatic moment of her life. She hated her brain, her brain that had trapped her in the trap of thinking they were made for each other, when you were the one she was born to be with. She always remained respectful towards him, she always felt like she owed him something because of what he had to go through with her. But sometimes, she fantasized about screaming in his face that a hole her heart had been sealed because she had found the right person for her, that only a single one of your smiles had given her more feeling than one of his acts towards her, that the feeling of your lips had erased all the hurt he had done to her.

She hated herself, it was no secret. But you gave her hope, hope that she could be more than who she was letting herself be. She wasn't seeing the shadow of a monster in your eyes, but the reflection of a broken and scared little girl hiding behind weapons and heavy armor to ensure that she had a strength strong enough to protect the child she was years ago. She hated you for that, she hated you for breaking down that solid wall she had taken so many years to build. You were the sunset on the plain, and she was the devastating hurricane.

You had truly seen in her, you had undressed her with your eyes the first time you had laid them on her, and she was so scared of it. Everything she thought she would never show, all her greatest fears, the darkest part of her soul, you laid it all out right in front of you, and she thought she would lose you. Yet, you were still there, by her side, admiring the sides of her that she hated, you took her hand and led her through it. Her broken parts never pushed you away, you spent so much of your time helping her put them back together one by one.

Sometimes she wondered if she really deserved you, you were an angel whose wings she was afraid to dirty, you were a petal that too strong a wind might break. When she hugged you, she did it as hard as she could, enough not to hurt you, and enough to keep her fear away. She was afraid that one day, you would fly away, you were too sweet to be true and one day, heaven will have to call for you back. But how could she ever let you go ? She couldn't and she wouldn't, may the wrath of the Gods strike if they want, you would stay right in her arms no matter what.

If heaven had a form, had a voice, had a smell, was even touchable, it could only be you. How could the world be so cruel to bring a soul like yours to this earth, during these times, during all possible times. She was ready to climb any mountain, cross any ocean, set the world on fire if necessary to protect you. Give her all your sorrows, all your fears, all your pains, she would endure them all for you without hesitation. Your heart was a treasure that she locked up in the highest fortress

You were the most restorative drug imaginable, and she wasn't about to get ride of her addiction. "I love you." you whispered in her ear, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you too. I love you so much." she whispered back to you, her embrace growing stronger, your skins melting together. You backed up a bit, lifting her face with your hands, kissing her cheek. She brought her face forward, sealing your burning lips together with want. You tasted sugary, you tasted sweet, you tasted heavenly, you tasted delightful, you tasted hers, and it drives her crazy.

Her hand sliding below your breast, she ran her thumb over your nipple, enjoying the feel of it. A small gasp escaped your mouth, your hand breaking away from around her waist and tracing a long and tender path down her back. Abby started kissing the bottom of your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses. This time, you let out a loud moan that she covered with her mouth, both of you moaning into each others. Your hands running wild, you ran one of your hands around the back of her head, grabbing her hair, pulling it gently, making her groan. "Getting ourselves cleaned up just to go back to sweating so soon ?" you chuckled out of breath. "Tell me to stop." she said back, stopping the kisses that you already missed, looking at you, waiting for your answer that she already knew.

Not answering anything, you looked your gaze into hers, your eyes going from hers to her lips. Slowly and gently, you ran your thumb along her bottom lip, bitting yours. Abby quickly pressed her lips to yours again, this time in a more dominant way than the last. As her hands began to move down your waist, a familiar warmth began to form in your lower abdomen. Your back arched, your breasts rubbing against each other, your nipples hardening, feeling so much and not enough at the same time.

Her hands clinging to the top of the last piece of fabric covering you, she untied it, throwing it harshly to the floor, never breaking the kiss. Now completely naked, one of her hands came to rest on your hip brushing it with her thumb, the other caressing and gripping your butt. "Abby…" you were moaning her name like a song, or rather like a prayer. She hummed against your mouth, her name in yours sounding so right. Again, again, please just one more time, she thought, never wanting you to stop repeating it.

Detaching one of her hands from under your thigh, she opened the door almost knocking it against the wall. A small chuckle escaping your mouth at her actions so hasty, you took a moment to look at her. Her bewitching blue eyes, as clear as the pacific, in which you would be ready to let yourself sink. Even though you were already diving inside her soul, inside her being. You already let yourself sink blindly into her depths, so dark and narrow that you had yet managed to enlighten little by little.

You hadn't made the discovery of all these depths, you were certain of it. It was a work on oneself that took time, and you would let her take the time she needed. Trust was one of the most important things, it could be lost in a heartbeat. You trusted Abby and Abby trusted you, that's all you cared about. How could anyone need presents as proof of bonding, when all you needed was her comforting eyes upon you, whispering to you that she was ready to let you in.

What a sight for sore eyes that woman was. The most perfect piece of art you could work out all the details on, discovering new colors, new erasures, new meanings. Her strong nose, giving her face this silhouette so perfectly drawn that you could recognize it even after the sun went down. Her precious freckles, mostly focused on her cheekbones and her nose, decorating her face like millions of stars in a summer sky. Her long and soft hair smelled like summertime too, a scent of freedom that you could wrap around the tip of your finger.

Gently guiding your back on what you both managed to make a bed of (consisting in two single beds pushed together and connected by a two-seater mattress in the middle), Abby started a new trail of kisses always going even lower. Not missing a single piece of your skin, she kissed your body like as if it was the first and last time. Every place his mouth passed, you thought a flower might grow there, taking fertilizer from the sweetness of her touches. Once again, it was just you and her, did the world really existed before she touched you ? Was it just your imagination ? Were the knocks on the door your brain playing tricks on you ?

The feeling of Abby's lips dancing on your skin stopped, pulling you out of the bubble you had both locked yourself in. Gently lifting yourself up on your elbows, her hands still on you, her focus was now on the door from across the room. Blinking slowly, wondering, you followed her eyes which stared at the doorknob. Her breath having stopped, she remained motionless above you. You were beginning to understand that the knocks weren't ultimately coming from your head playing with you, because she had probably heard them too.

"Stay quiet. They'll leave." Abby whispered in a barely audible voice. None of you took your eyes off the door, waiting to hear some footsteps meaning that the person right behind it was finally walking away. Instead, you heard even louder and longer knocks, but still no one was talking on the other side. Abby was getting impatient, the air escaping her nose getting louder, eyebrows furrowed. It took a third start of knocking against the wooden material for you to shout audibly.

"Coming !" you said, placing your palms on Abby's forearms to help you get up out of bed. Quickly, you grabbed the first clothes you saw stretched out on the blue railing above the small steps separating the part of the bed and the living room. Jumping into your pants, you attempted to rearrange your hair appropriately. Abby on the side was visibly irritated about being pulled out from the intimate and tender little paradise she had managed to create, and so were you.

"It better be an emergency." you heard her grumbling and mumbling behind you. You made your way to the door, wondering who could be knocking on your door at this time of night. Much more slowly, you heard Abby putting the first layer of clothing on her, because between the two of you, she was the one most likely to be called at such a late hour, and if so, she was not about to let it pass when she would come back. Turning the handle and opening the door, you were much more surprised at who you opened the door to. "What-" was all you managed to say, still not processing how he presented himself to you rather than why he had to come here, right now.

Manny was there. Well, Manny stood there, half-naked, hair messy, and wearing nothing but a boxer. Apparently, he hadn't prepared a single speech from where he was to get to you, only giving you a wobbly smile realizing the strange situation he had just put himself in. "If you came here for some kind of weird sex offer, I already have everything I need." you said mockingly, a quick giggle following your sentence due to the improbability of whatever was happening here.

Because of what you were saying, you could hear Abby's movements rushing as she headed for the door with more motivation. "Ha, very funny, payasa. I need some help." he teased with that name, the door swinging open fully leaving room for Abby by your side pulling the door open. "Manny ?" she too was surprised by the visit of her friend. "And I actually need your help, Abs." he said, pointing at her, now leaning against the door, his cocky attitude taking over.

"What is it." she asked, rolling her eyes in a friendly manner. "I was about to ask mi amigo Pat if he could sneak me the keys to one of the cars, but he had already left when I arrived. So, I came over to ask if you could give me the emergency car key Issac gave you." he asked her, one of his big 'Manny smile' across his face. "Are you already planning on going to your 'place' again ?" she asked him, astonished.

"Can't say anything." he chuckled, raising his hands in the air as usual. "Where is she now ?" Abby asked, sliding her head down the hallway peering at it. "In the shower. My roommate should be here soon, so I told her to get in before we left. And I wish I could get back before she got out." he explained, smirking. Abby didn't answer, she just turned around with a long sigh, going to bring him what he was looking for.

"You really are something, Manny." you told him, not hiding your amusement at the situation. "You'll be so bored without me, amiga." he said, both of you laughing. A few seconds later, Abby came back, holding the keys, handing them to him. "Here." she whispered to him. But before Manny could even grab them, she closed her palm, raising it in the air. "Lose them, get caught, I'll kill you, pendejo." she said in an amused but serious voice. "Come on Abs, you know me." he replied in the same tone. She hummed at his comment, dropping the keys in his hand, not taking her eyes off him. "That's why." she finished, crossing her arms around her chest.

"Thank you, Abs." he told her, meaningful. "Hope she's worth having you whispering some Spanish in her ear." you said to Manny, tease in your voice. While Abby couldn't stop laughing at what you just said to him, Manny gave you a dazed look. "How- Oh, I see. No secrets between the lovebirds, huh ?" he said looking at you both, raising his eyebrows. "You called it." Abby answered, not feeling a bit disturbed by his calling.

Slowly, he frowned, a satisfied smirk lying on his lips. And just by the look on his face, you knew he was about to say something back, taking Abby's unbothered attitude as a challenge. "Speaking of, y'all took a year opening the door to me and by the look of you, it seems that I won't be the only one whispering some Spanish in someone's ear tonight." a cocky smile covering is mouth, Manny looked delighted about Abby's now astounding face.

Raising her arm and resting her palm against his shoulder, Abby pushed Manny back, giving him everything he wanted. "Get lost, cabrón." she sighed, a heavy giggle coming from him. "Well, thank you señoras for the hand, and have a delightful night." he ended, making two finger guns with his hands, stepping away. "Bite me." Abby retorted. "See ya, amigo." you said at the same time. Abby closing the door completely, locking it, you could hear Manny's giggles in the hallways while she was doing so.

"I can not believe it." she sighed, shaking her head. "That was… entertaining ?" you were looking for the right word, still laughing softly. "He'll be the death of me someday." she said, already throwing her cargo pants on the railing. "But the show's quite worth it, right ?" you answered ironically, following her moves. "Depends on what time he chooses to do it." despite her little smirk, you could see she was still annoyed.

"On the bright side, at least, it wasn't a duty call." trying to reassure her, you also took off your shirt, only the underwear you had put on quickly still on you. She hummed at your comment, eyes resting on your chest once again. "Also, he didn't make me change my mind." you said in a soft voice, her eyes rising from your breasts to yours. Slowly moving towards you, never breaking eye contact, Abby stopped inches from your face, from there, you could feel her warm breath hitting your face, your lips.

"Did you ?" you whispered on her lips, your eyes still in hers. "Never." she whispered back, teasing you with her mouth. Grabbing the bottom of her shirt remaining on her, you lifted it over her head, throwing it away somewhere, followed by her sports bra. Putting her hands on your hips, she pushed you against her, kissing you passionately. Wrapping your arms around her neck, she lifted you off the floor again as she walked you down the small bedroom steps.

Falling with you on the mattress, she placed herself between your legs, her hand now resting on your cheek dominating the kiss. Sliding her lips against yours, you let a gasp escape which she took advantage of to slide her tongue inside your mouth, playing with yours. Turning your head slightly, you started tugging her hair a little again, knowing she loved it without her having to tell you about it vocally, the short moans and groans she made telling you enough.

If her heart had to stop beating, she wished it would happen here and now, what an exquisite perfect way to die, she thought. Her lips against yours, her puzzle pieces were all stuck together, the world had stopped spinning, but she just managed to find her own balance. What an unpleasant inconvenience oxygen could be, if she had the choice, she could never resolve herself to pull pull away. But she didn't care, if she had to kiss you until asphyxia to be satisfied, she would gladly do it.

"My pretty girl." Abby breathed out, letting you catch your breath, kissing down to your neck. Lips quivering, your moans sounded like hisses, and she knew where to touch you to get her favorite symphony. "You're perfect." she continued, taking the time to watch your chest inflated and deflated with difficulty, your breathing jerky. Abby's worshiping words came out of her so easily, and she loved seeing how much it riled you up, because she meant every single words she was saying.

Her sloppy kisses reaching your collarbones, you lifted your head to look at her, her eyes doing the same. Pausing, you exchanged a moment of silence corrupted by your heavy breaths, before Abby moved towards one of your breasts. Taking it in her mouth, she started sucking it carefully, sometimes circling around your nipple with her warm tongue. Mouth parted, your sounds were clearer and louder, and she was being agonizingly cautious.

When she was satisfied with her work, she came putting the other one in her mouth, repeating the same delicious torture. "Please." you begged, your eyelids slowly closing. Her hand came to grab your unoccupied breast with her mouth, squeezing it gently, rubbing your hard nipple. When she thought she had done enough, her other hand came to replace her mouth too, your breasts in both of her hands, her trail of kisses continued from the space between your breasts down to your belly, the fire in your lower abdomen growing stronger.

Now focusing on your pelvis, her hands descended there, caressing your body as they did so, forearms coming around your thighs, stabilizing you. Leaving butterfly kisses left and right, her cheeks were rubbing against it like slow waves. The more she was going down, the more you had the impression of not knowing how to breathe, as if something was blocking your throat. A puff of hot air coming from her mouth hitting your clit, you directly opened your eyes wide, meeting hers.

Dilated pupils, they were filled with want. She was the animal and you were the prey, only one thought filled her mind, and it was to taste you. Not moving an inch, she was waiting for you, wainting for your consent, and you knew she wasn't going to do anything without it. "Please, Abigail." you said in a weak voice, and she tried to put aside in a corner of her head the effect that you calling her name had on her in this position. " 'Please' what ?" she retorted, not wanting to mess around, just wanting to hear you say it clearly.

"I'm yours." you told her, confident. That earned you a jolly and satisfied smirk, Abby licking her bottom lip. Getting off the bed, knees on the ground, she pulled you gently against the edge of the mattress, your butt at the limit. You were already a mess, already staining the sheets, much to the delight of Abby who came licking at your inner labia, licking up the wetness between your folds. "Oh-" was all you were able to say, losing control, your head falling back, you started moaning loudly.

"Yes-" you whined, hand in her hair again. Her tongue on you sending millions of chills through your body, your back was already arching for more, you wanted more, you needed more. "More- Please." you breathed out, your hips moving, craving it. Humming at you, Abby she raised your pelvis a little, her forearms still surrounded your thighs which she was now placing on her shoulders, spreading your legs further apart.

Taking two of her fingers, she slowly spread your wet folds. When you finally felt her tongue rocking against your clit, your grip on her scalp tightened, your muscles vibrating. "Fuck ! Abby-" she moaned at the sound of her name, already enjoying herself knowing that you were, it sent vibrations on your clit and you felt your heart racing, banging against your rib cage, risking to come out through your mouth already so wide open under only the beginning of her efforts.

The pace growing faster seconds by seconds, you struggled to keep your body in place. Abby tightening her grip on your thighs to keep you from accidentally pulling off, her face sinking deeper between your legs. "I- Fuck ! Fuck-" you no longer had the idea of holding back in mind, you simply couldn't do so. Sucking at it, she was hungry of you, and Abby never could have imagined that her favorite meal would end up being the one she would find between your legs. Making harsh circles around your clit with her tongue, she couldn't get enough of the obscenely cute loud noises coming out of your mouth.

You tasted so hers, and if the whole stadium needed to hear you to know it, then she would let them know. The thrilling idea of marking you as hers, more than she already had, making you scream out of pleasure begging her not to stop so loudly that the whole base could hear you, making sure that everyone who stared at you for too long don't even dare to meet your gaze anymore, knowing they couldn't even compare to how only the tip of her tongue could make you feel, it made her fantasize.

Abby was pulled out from her thoughts as she felt your hips rolling against her face, as she felt you riding her face shamelessly. Do it the way you want it, do it the way you need it, do it the way you crave it, she thought. She loved you like that, trying to regain control, wanting more because it was just overwhelmingly good. Your hand was pushing on the back of her head, as if she could be even closer than she already was. But she was going to do it, she was going to give you more, she was going to wrecked you.

Burying her face in you, she ate you out like it was the last time she'd get a taste of the greatest lust, yours. She could stay between your thighs all night, all month, all year, hoping she could build a second home right here. Your thighs squeezing uncontrollably around her head, crushing her ears, told her you wouldn't mind either. Getting deafened by your leg muscles, the topic came back to her mind, and she would also like having to take her last breath here, compressed between your pleasure so hard to contain that you forgot all good manners.

"Oh God-" she barely heard you say, too concentrated and her hearing temporarily confiscated. "Fuck- Yes- Yes !" your vocabulary could only be summed up in these words, you couldn't think anymore, you could barely even know where you were. Abby not slowing down once, your pelvis thrusts still going strong, you could feel it coming any moment. Abby's focused growls at you grew louder as your legs were threatening to let go of you.

Suddenly, a wave of intense pleasure shot through your body, shaking every limb of it like an explosion, your muscles no longer holding you. "Fuck !" escaped from your mouth, your legs shaking and your pelvis convulsing in Abby's mouth who continued to rock her tongue against your clit following your orgasm. Moaning loudly, you bite your bottom lip as what felt like delightful fireworks exploded inside your all being. Nothing come close to the height that Abby drove you every time you were intimate, every time you were making love.

"Abby…" you whined, a back feeling of overstimulation starting to set in. Slowing down her pace, she started drinking your flowing juice, sucking it noisily as if it was a ripe summer fruit. After collecting the wetness of your folds with her tongue, giving space to your clit, letting you come to your senses after the earth shattering orgasm she just gave you, she kissed it, making you gasp. "So good." Abby whispered. "You did so good for me, beautiful." Stroking her scalp with your hand, she placed butterfly kisses around your stimulated area, caressing your thighs with her thumbs and putting small pecks on them too.

"Come here." you mumbled, gently pulling her by the hair. Abby still dropping a quick peck on your belly on the way, you pulled her into a deep and profound kiss, slightly testing yourself on her lips, opening your mouth and intertwining your tongues. She grabbed your face in her hands, placing a first kiss on your forehead, a second on the tip of your nose, and a last one on your cheek. "Gorgeous." she breathed out, puppy eyes and shy smile.

Giggling shyly, your hand came to rest on her cheek, stroking it softly, locking your eyes with hers. "I love you." you whispered to her like a secret as she pressed her cheek against the palm of your hand. "I love you more." she answered in the same tone. "Don't try to make me mad." you chuckled, squinting your eyes. Abby shook her head, a light giggle escaping her lips as she came to rest her lips on yours again.

Your fingertips caressing her back, she straightened up, lowering her hand to your hip. "More ?" she asked, her thumb stroking it. "I'd like that." you affirmed, nodding. Back at kissing your neck again, Abby ran her hand over your hip behind your lower back, shifting your position. Approaching the edge of the bed, she sat down on the end of the mattress, you on top, leaning on your shins, legs spread on both sides of hers.

Your palms placed on the space between her shoulders and her neck, you deepened the kiss while her muscular arm came to surround your waist, preventing you from falling back, the other resting on your bent thigh. Chests pressed like this, you could feel the start of your sweats mixing, every single one of your nerves reacting to the touches you exchanged, preparing to receive the most intimate stimulation.

Even though Abby's arm provided enough pressure to keep you balanced, sometimes you would forget that it was there because of her light embrace. No matter how many times she touched you, how many times she hugged you, how many times you were making love, she always felt like she could break you at any moment. She always touched you like you were made of sugar, and she always saw herself as an impostor who didn't deserve to lay her hands on something as sweet as you.

But deep down, you hoped she could crush you, be so close to her that you couldn't tell which part was your body and which part was hers. The closest was never enough, you both needed more, needed your bodies, your skins, your flesh, and your bones to be only one. But you were too soft and too pure for that, she thought. You were as thin as satin and Abby as sharp as a knife, and she wouldn't allow herself to risk crumpling the most precious material.

Feeling her hand moving from your hip to the heat between your legs, a small whined escaped your lips directly into her ear. Kissing your cheek, she put a finger on your clit and she felt you shiver at the touch. Making slow circular movements on it, she was whispering in your ear how good you felt against her. When your hips started moving too, she understood your body asking for more, your arms wrapping around her neck.

She dragged her finger down and bit her bottom lip at the even more noticeable sensation of your wetness. "Fuck, you're soaked." she purred, hearing you respond with another moan. Slowly, she entered a first finger in you, making you whimpering and burying your head in the crook of her neck. She let you ride her finger in a slow pace, taking the time to adjust yourself as needed, your heavy breathing on her neck, she waited for your indications.

"More…" you tilted your head to tell her, whispering. Feeling your hole stretching as she added a second finger inside you, the arms you had placed behind her neck came to rest behind her back, your nails gently digging into her back. "Alright ?" she still asked. "Yeah." you breathed out, pressing your cheek to hers. Continuing to ride her fingers, your movements quickly became faster. "Want me to start moving ?" she asked again, stroking your ribs with the thumb of her arm around your waist.

You hummed in answer, slowing the movement of your hips as you felt her fingers moving inside you. "Fuck-" you moaned, her fingers moving faster. The sound of her fingers going up and down filled the room, and you felt the beginning that pleasant warmth begin to spread through your body once more. "Faster." you said, tightening your arms behind her back. Doing as you asked, Abby moved her fingers faster, hitting the right spot she knew all too well now.

She loved giving you what you wanted, following orders you moaned in her ear, be in control of the exact pleasure you were looking for. You had her on his knees, but in those moments she was the one taking control, and it's not because you were telling her how to do it that the roles were reversed, because she was the one that would be giving it to you so good. She stole you from yourself, because you knew she would give you more than you could give to yourself, make you feel so much more with a kiss on your skin than you could by touching yourself alone in your bed.

"Yes- Yes-" you whined, fingers sinking deeper into her skin. The heat in your lower abdomen getting stronger, you only needed a little more. "Ha- Harder." you moaned, moving your hips on her fingers again. Now pounding inside of you, Abby's groans followed your whimpers. "Fuck !" you cried out, your body shaking by her comings and goings. "Come on. Come on." she started whining under you, fingers never slowing down.

"Fuck- I'm cumming- I'm cumming !" you repeated, your face burying itself in her neck, biting it. "I know baby, I know." she answered every time, merciless fingers still pounding inside you. Trembling legs, you couldn't keep still, feeling your orgasm getting closer. Abby noticed it and tightened her grip around you, allowing you to put all your weight on her. Your orgasm exploding inside your body, you lost all control of your muscles, your face automatically falling back, mouth wide open, loudly crying and moaning shamelessly at the mind-blowing pleasure running along every part of your body. "There you go." Abby whispered. "I got you. I got you." she continued, her arm helping moving your hips against her fingers.

As she helped you going through your orgasm, you felt something else coming. "It's- Too much-" you tried to articulate, overstimulation taking over. You felt Abby slowing down the pace, kissing your collarbones. "It's okay, I got you." she said between her kisses, her fingers coming out of you slowly. Gasping at the loss, your head bowed, meeting her eyes. Still pressed against her, heavily breathing, you watched her bring her fingers covered in your juice to her mouth, licking around them as she kept eye contact the entire time.

You bit your bottom lip at the sight, your hand coming to rest on her cheek, stroking it. When she finished cleaning them off, you brought her face closer for a passionate kiss. Tasting yourself on her lips, her tongue slid over yours, making you open your mouth and letting Abby explore it for as long as she wanted. When the air ran out in your lungs, she had to pulled back, the sound of a deep and wet smack following the separation.

"What about you ?" you asked softly, placing a lock of hair behind her ear. "What about me ?" she answered rhetorically, chuckling a little. "Would you like me to touch you ?" you said clearer, her smile letting you know that she was looking for this invitation. "I'd like that too, yeah." she whispered, her hand returning on your still bent hip. "Do you know what you would like ?" you asked again. "Oh I know exactly what I want." her smirk speaking for her, she flipped you on your back, hands on both sides of your head.

Between your legs, Abby grabbed to top of her boxer and started pulling it down, your hands coming to help her pulling it all the way, throwing it behind her. Now that she was leaning on her shins too, taking a look at you, you didn't bother doing the same. What you were seeing was the perfect definition of a dream, a dream no one could believe was real unless they saw it for themselves, and you also always wondered if she was really here, if she was really real.

Having now more visibility than just her perfect facial features, you took the time to fully admire her, each parts of her body. Her strong neck where you liked to place kisses so much, followed by her well defined upper trapezius that shivered every time you ran your fingers over it. Her muscular shoulders and arms, a few vains running through them and flexing with each of her movements, a true strength she only used to massage the length of your body when you came home tired from your day.

Her alluring hands, her thick fingers, a gift that must have been sent to you from above. Her small, muscular, and so perfectly defined breasts, so soft to the touch that the feeling could seem unreal. Her mesmerizing abdomen, abs as if drawn by an artist, her devine v-line going down to her delightful and wet pussy. Her powerful legs, athletic thighs which she had no problem concentrating her strength into when she amused herself carrying you over her shoulder while you giggled around the apartment.

It was impossible to think of a single problem from the outside when all the solutions were spread over different corners of her body. It was obvious that Athena and Aphrodite had spent endless nights shaping it, making her features their most perfect work of art. You couldn't believe she was yours, yours to see, yours to touch, you were just an ordinary human and she clearly wasn't. She was a magnet that you would never complain you couldn't walk away from, because you were always as excited to see her in her most natural state as a child seeing the first snowfall.

Bending forward, you placed your hands on her hips going up and down, before she gently pulled them away from her, intertwining her fingers with yours, a loving gaze in your eyes. "I have something else in mind. I think you'd like it too." she said, leaving you wondering. Her hand coming to slip behind your back, she lifted you slightly, laying you down in the correct direction of the bed, right in the middle of it.

Sitting in front of you, mirroring your position, spreading her legs, you understood what she meant right away and your heart was starting to race with excitement again. Bringing your two pelvis closer, she came to sit on one of your thighs, taking your other leg placing it on her shoulder. "Are you feeling comfortable with this ?" she asked you with a serious look, her palm going up and down on your thigh resting on her shoulder.

"Couldn't be better." you answered biting your lower lip, excitement running through your veins. "Perfect." she whispered quickly. Closing the space between you, your wet folds melting against each other, a gasp escaped from your mouths. "Fuck…" Abby said under her breath. Feeling all the effects that pleasing you had on her directly on your skin made you thrilled, she felt so good against you, the heat coming from between her thighs bumping into your skin making you roll your eyes.

Slowly, Abby started rolling her hips against yours, both you wetness intertwining, you let out a satisfied sigh. You followed her rhythm, your clits rubbing against each other, both of you shivering at the first touches. The sound of your two bodies moving together was pure melody in your ears, and so was the moans and groans coming out of her mouth. "You feel so good." you moaned out, pulling yourself up on your forearms for a better view of your bodies.

"So do you." she whined back with a small chuckle. A few drops of sweat trickled down Abby's chest from her earlier efforts, those of now surely not going to slow them down. You could see the wetness of both of you making a link between your two bodies every time she pulled back between each thrusts. With each time she rolled against you, your moans grew louder and louder, and the mere sight of your pressed clits reigniting that familiar flame in your belly.

Speeding up the pace, you both started rubbing faster, the thrusts becoming more intense. "Oh- Yes-" Abby groaned out. "Lay back." you said softly, making her look at you. Listening to your words, she put herself in the same position as you, taking support on her forearms, thrusts never stopping. Both your moans now even louder filling the room, you held out your hand to her. Smiling at you, she grabbed your hand making an audible clap, your bodies held in balance thanks to this embrace.

The thrusts getting stronger and faster, Abby and you started to feel your legs starting to shake. Taking a look at her, you saw her staring where your bodies met, biting her lip, enjoying the stimulation as much as you. Her muscles flexed every time she rolled against you, her abs sweating, mouth agape, gritting teeth, she was a delightful sight. Her thick thighs slapping against yours, the divine sensation of her wet folds, you knew it was only a matter of seconds.

"I- I'm-" she tried to say, failing to finish her sentence. Taking the hint, you straightened up a bit, now only relying on one of your outstretched arms on the bed, giving you more strength in your movements. You speed up your thrusts, making her throw her head back on the mattress, breasts bouncing, moan mouth wide open. Strongly rubbing your body to hers, you smirked to yourself at the sight of her face, his eyes closed, his eyebrows furrowed, she wasn't going to last long.

"Fuck !" Abby cried out, her hand tightening yours. Her whole body froze as her hips suddenly spasmed harshly, her orgasm running through her, Abby thought she was going to lose her mind. Still not slowing down, you moaned as you lead her through it, gently stroking her thigh with your thumb. When she opened her eyes, sighing, you knew she had enough, and you slowed down your hips until it stopped, not wanting the overstimulation to take over her.

"God, that was amazing." she breathed out, shyly smiling at you. "You look so beautiful like this." you replied in the same tone. "Like what ?" she asked amusedly, raising an eyebrow. "Wrecked." you said with no hesitation, a little smirk growing on your face as she chuckled under her breath. She took a moment to look at you, entirely, and so did you. The eyelids tighter than before, the strands of her hair messy around her head, the sweat running down her body, her stomach inflating and deflating with all the deep breaths she took, the prettiest woman you have ever seen.

Both recovered enough to catch a proper breath, Abby locked her eyes in yours, smirking. "Tell me…" she started, her palm stroking your thigh. "I almost sent you over the edge earlier, and I was wondering if I could finish what I started." she purred, licking her bottom lip. A shy and quick giggle came out of your mouth, your hand coming to place a lock of hair behind your ear. "If you think you'll be able too." you joked, smiling.

"Oh I know I will." she chuckled back, carefully lifting one of the legs over hers, closing them, your muscles relaxing. Shifting her body on top of you, she kissed your cheek, then your mouth, her forehead resting on yours. As you ran your fingers through her hair, she came to place her mouth next to your ear. "Your thighs feels really… soft, and I think they'd feel even better around my face." she whispered, and you could feel her smile when she spoke.

Another shiver running through your body at her words, you turned your head a little trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. "If you're okay with this, of course." she whispered, using her finger to turn your head towards hers again. You gently wrapped her hand around hers, kissing her knuckles, gazing at her tenderly. "Sounds pretty good to me." you said, approaching your face to put your lips on hers, feeling her smile against your mouth.

Reaching her hand behind your back, she turned you around, shifting your positions, placing you on top of her. Sitting on her hips, she put her hands on your thighs, and you leaned in to kiss her again. Quickly, her hands came to rest on your butt, squeezing it, slightly pushing it forward. Following her silent request, you moved in the direction of where she wanted you by leaning on your calves, breaking the kiss so you can comfortably fold your legs in and spread your thighs on both sides of her head, putting your weight back on your outstretched arms, a little anxious about dropping your weight on her like this.

She noticed the uncertainty in your eyes, her hands now sliding along your ribs. "What is it ?" she asked gently. "Are you, uhm, sure about this ?" you answered, concern in your voice. "Of course. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise." she reassured you, seeing a small smile growing on the corner of your lips. "Now come sit on my face." she continued amused, squeezing your ribs. Your quiet giggles stopped immediately the moment her lips touched your wet folds, and her nose your clit.

"Fuck-" you moaned out, your head falling back. You felt Abby's hands grow heavy on your thighs, telling you that you had nothing to worry about, and you stopped holding back, letting yourself fall around her face. You felt her strong arms now wrap around your thighs, holding you firmly in place. Looking down to catch a glimpse of discomfort on her face, you actually met her hungry eyes, staring at you with sin, waiting impatiently for you to start moving.

Slowly beginning to roll your hips on her face, her tongue came to rest between your wet folds, licking up your wetness, her strong nose bumping on your clit every time. Already feeling the unfinished stimulation from earlier, a deep moan came out of your lungs. You didn't wait long before accelerating, wildly riding her face, Abby's moans telling you that she loved what you were doing, that she loved feeling you having no manners on the tip of her tongue.

Her tongue now between your folds, her face moving between your thighs while she was eating you out, your clit rubbing firmly against her nose from the pressure she exerted on your thighs, you might have been ashamed of the sounds coming out of your mouth if you weren't totally focused on the pleasure Abby was making you feel right now. "Oh my God-" you cried out, feeling your limit approaching much faster than you thought.

Groaning against you, the sounds she provided went straight to your core, making you gasp. "Abby-" you tried to say, unsuccessfully. She understood that you were about to completely fall apart around her face, and she amplified her movements. Her tongue rocking, her mouth harshly sucking, and her nose hardly bumping against you, she was giving you even more than you thought you were capable of receiving.

"Oh my- Fuck !" you almost screamed, your fingers clutching the sheet under you. You felt your orgasm hit you faster than the previous ones, your hips uncontrollable spasms around her face that your thighs were squeezing tightly. Abby didn't stop, eating you out and sucking at your juice until you couldn't even remember your own name. Leading you through your orgasm, she was moving your hips against her mouth, an indescribable pleasure shaking your entire being.

"Abby." she heard you calling, telling her to slow down before the feeling gets too much. Slowly releasing the pressure she was exerting on your thighs, you backed up a little placing yourself on her chest, letting her take a proper breath. "Oh my God." you constantly repeated, your mind somewhere else after everything that she made you feel. Her little strockings on your thigh brought you back to reality, your face lowering to look at her again.

A shiver ran through your body when you saw the bottom of her face, glowing and completely covered by your wetness. "See, told you you'd like it." she breathed out, trying to catch her breath, smirking at you victoriously. You wish you were able to answer, tell her how much you loved it, how good she was, but you couldn't do it, you felt like you had lost the use of speech, so instead, you only gave her a weak smile, breathing hard.

Even though you were ashamed about the fact that you couldn't tell her what was going through your mind, Abby was even happier that you couldn't answer, knowing that she did so good that you couldn't even answer a simple question. Waiting for you to recover a little, she carefully moved you and laid you down on your back, kissing your forehead. "My beautiful girl." she whispered in your ear, kissing your temple.

Minutes passed and you managed to breathe properly, even though Abby had such a better cardio than yours and spent most of her time working out, you were still amazed at how easily she recovered so quickly. Currently, you were on your back with Abby just above you, one arm around your waist and one leg over your waist while you stroked the top of her head. "You made me feel so good." you finally managed to say, making her raise her head to look at you.

She gave you one of those smiles you loved so much, the one that made her cheekbones lift and her eyes squint and you had to restrain yourself from squeezing her cute cheeks in your hands and kissing her so hard you might break them. "Then I'm really happy about that. You also made me feel really good too, you know." she said, stretching her hand towards your cheek, pulling you close and kissing you with tenderness and passion.

It was so complicated for you to describe the relationship you had with Abby, it was so easy but yet no words could come close. As soon as she puts her hand on you, it's as if the world enveloped you in a warm bubble, a small paradise running on the tip of her fingers. You never would have thought that being held close against someone could feel so close to home, and that only one of their embraces could make you travel into the depths of your own heart.

Her body felt so good against yours, not just because her skin was the softest you had ever touch, but because it was like you were born to find her, fashioned so that your every heartbeat sounds better against each other. How desolating to think that while some people were simply fucking, while you get to make love, collapsing your souls together, sharing a so sinful pleasure but yet so pure. Weaving a bond so complex to explain that it would push scientists to resign, so beautiful that it would push poets to burn all their writings. It was just her and you, time no longer existed and the world only revolved for you two.

Pulling her lips away from yours, Abby locked her gaze in yours. "I love you, Abigail." you breathed out, brushing your finger over her bottom lip, calling her name making her heart skip a beat. "I love you too, more than anything." she replied, her hand on your cheek, stroking it gently. You traced a path with your finger from her mouth to her chin, her neck, her collarbones, her shoulder, unconsciously stopping on a recent scar on it. Feeling your heavy gaze there, knowing what you were looking at and what you could be thinking, she tenderly grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers, and finally coming back to your senses, your focus shifted back to her eyes.

A few weeks ago, Abby's patrol was taken by surprise by a small group of Scars on their way home, some members didn't make it back to the base and Abby returned with an arrow in the shoulder. That day again, you were even more panicked than her and she must have reassured you hundreds of times that it wasn't that much of a big deal and that she would be fine. Now looking at each other with empathy and reassurance, you pulled your intertwined hands up to your mouth, kissing her fingers. "We'll be okay." the words skipped out of your mouth, whispered like a promise.

You didn't really know why you decided to say those words, because after all it wasn't the kind of thing that people said to each other in this world, probably because they made more sense in your heart. You didn't regret them though, you meant them, because as long as she was there your heart had a home to go to, as long as she was there your sorrows would find their cures, as long as she was there you would never be alone, as long as- "As long as you stand by me." Abby told you, squeezing your hand in hers.

You looked at her silently, your eyes exchanging words that no mouth could transcribe, breathing at the same time. Lifting her head by your finger, you placed a kiss on her forehead, her nose, and then on her lips, her hand going to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. That was it, the world could catch fire, the mountains could crumble, the oceans could overflow, you would always find each other, wait an eternity for one to come back. 

Out of breath, you both pulled back with a wet smack. "Not tryna ruin the moment but, we should probably get cleaned up." she requested, kissing your collarbones. "Yeah... I feel like my muscles have melted away. Your skin feels so warm and soft." you breathed out, making invisible drawings with your finger along her shoulder again. "If we don't go now, we might fall asleep. Besides, I never said I couldn't take you there." she said, a playful smirk on her lips. And in a blink, you found yourself in her arms, Abby carrying you like a princess to the bathroom, your giggles following all the way.

[gamerwoo]

[SKZ Imprinted] Seungmin: The Enemy of My Enemy (Part 4)

@minluvly asked: CAN i request the next Seungmin part 👁️👄👁️ I NEED JUSTICE,,, OR CLOSURE

Characters: Seungmin x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, werewolf hunter au, enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort kinda???, major character death again, talks of gunshot wounds and blood, needles/shots, demons and talks of demonic themes, vomiting, this one is a rollercoaster i'm so sorry <3

Word count: 3,961

Summary: Despite their best efforts, you won't come back to him. Seungmin has called on everyone to try and bring you back to life, but nothing seems to work. He's accepted that they've run out of options, when an unexpected visitor shows up to try and reverse the damage caused.

a/n: i was gonna make this longer but i felt like this was long enough already lmao. but also i've finally completed all of the skz imprinted requests 😌 so if you have any requests for the series to move it along or even like spin-off stuff pls send them in!!! 💛

Previous | Next | Imprinted Masterlist

Changbin heard it. Of course he heard it. He could barely hear your heartbeat, as faint as it was, before all he could make out was Seungmin's, pounding loudly in his chest before he let out strangled cries of your name, begging you to come back to him; to wake up. So Changbin ran faster, running straight into the house with the front door already open. He knew it was Jungkook -- he could smell him -- but he wasn't going to go after him, at least not now. He had bigger issues to worry about, and he could track down the rogue hunter later.

As soon as Changbin found the room his brother was in, holding you in his arms with your lifeless eyes still open, he gently shoved Seungmin out of the way and laid you back down on the floor. CPR was the first thing he had to start doing. He wasn't a stranger to death, so he knew what to do.

"Ch-Changbin..." Seungmin whimpered, but he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. He was feeling and thinking too many things to make any sense.

"I know it hurts, but you need to hold yourself together," the older wolf stated in a firm but understanding tone, his eyes focused on your unmoving face. "A person can only last so long without oxygen before it fucks with their brain, so we need to restart her heart."

Seungmin tried to ignore the snapping of your ribs as Changbin performed CPR, wincing as he asked, "How?"

"Defibrillator, preferably. But... I have another option, but it's...a lot for a human."

"What is it?"

"Just go see if you can find an AED," he said, dismissing Seungmin's question. "That's the safest option for her."

As Seungmin raced off to tear the house apart, Changbin continued steady, precise compressions. It wasn't the first time he'd performed CPR on a human, but he was really hoping it would be the last.

"C'mon, _____," he breathed, refusing to give up. "You gotta come back. How could you of all people be so reckless, anyway, huh?"

He honestly was genuinely curious. How did it end up that you ended up getting shot and killed? And for Seungmin? That wasn't something anyone was expecting.

But what really got him was that you died to Jungkook. How could you die to your brother when you were clearly the stronger hunter? Changbin didn't know the whole story -- he didn't really know any of the story, he was just told that you were dying and he was the closest to your location since he was already racing to find Seungmin -- but he couldn't imagine a scenario where you would end up being overpowered by your estranged brother.

Unless all you could do was take the bullet for Seungmin, maybe? Maybe you had arrived too late?

His thoughts were interrupted by Seungmin coming back into the room, breathlessly saying, "All I found was a taser."

"That's not strong enough," he grunted. "Go into my back pocket and get the vile with the blue stuff in it."

Seungmin searched Changbin's pockets without question, coming up with what seemed to be a shot. The vile was clear, showing off a blue liquid so bright that it may have been glowing.

"What is it?" Seungmin wondered, holding the shot out to his brother.

Changbin stopped his compressions to take the medicine from Seungmin. He held the vile up to his eyes and flicked it a few times to make sure it was mixed. His brows furrowed, seeming unhappy with his second option.

"Well, I brought this for you," he sighed. "This is basically adrenaline for werewolves. If it were you in this situation, I'd inject you with it to restart your heart. But given it's a human..."

Seungmin gulped, finally understanding Changbin's worries. Adrenaline for a human wouldn't be nearly enough for a werewolf. So adrenaline for a werewolf was more than likely very unsafe for a human.

Unsafe for you.

"I'm hoping if I only do a small dose, it'll still be enough to get her heart going," Changbin mumbled as he eyed the numbers and lines marking the vile. "The problem is...I'm not a doctor and I don't know what's too much and what's not enough."

Seungmin took a deep breath, tears still falling from his eyes and down his cheeks as he nodded, "I trust you."

Changbin glanced to his brother, "You sure?"

"You really can't make it any worse," he shrugged with a sad laugh that almost sent him spiraling into more sobbing.

So with that, Changbin stabbed the needle straight into your heart, just above the gunshot wound. He pressed the syringe with his thumb, deciding to go with half the vile...and then just a little more just in case.

You gasped. It was loud and sounded like it made your throat hurt, your chest rising with it. Changbin yanked the needle out and watched with wide eyes as you blinked for the first time in the last 10 or 15 minutes.

Seungmin started crying again.

You started choking on the liquid that had began to build up in your throat, and Changbin was quick to sit you up as you coughed, blood and mucus splattering on his and your clothes, and into your lap.

"_____!" Seungmin cried, a hopeful smile on his face.

And almost as quickly as you came to life, your eyes closed again, and your body went limp, flopping forward into Changbin's chest.

"_-_____?" Seungmin's voice was full of worry again, thinking you'd only come back to him for a few short seconds. "Changbin?"

But your heart was still beating -- and erratically at that.

"Call Seungcheol," Changbin ordered, still holding you to his chest, feeling liquids -- maybe spit, but probably more blood that had tried to come out of your mouth when you were shot -- soak through his t-shirt. "We're gonna need help now."

"Is she okay?" Seungmin asked as he took Changbin's phone from his hand after he got it from his pocket.

"She's breathing," Changbin stated. "Now we have to make sure it doesn't stop, and we need to make sure this adrenaline doesn't kill her. Her car's out front, so we'll take that."

-

Despite being woken from their slumber, Aya and Joshua were wide awake as they worked to stabilize you. The whole house was up now, gathered downstairs with the rest of Bang Chan's pack that was showing up to see what the fate of Seungmin's mate would be.

Chan had beat Changbin and Seungmin to Seungcheol's, going up the stairs to Joshua's room where they'd use his desk as a makeshift operating table. He kept an arm around Seungmin's shoulders as they watched Aya and Joshua work to remove the bullet without causing any more issues.

When Ryujin and Minho got there, Ryu ran straight up the stairs, bursting into the room with wild sobs. Chan had to initially hold her back as she fought to get to you, like she could do something. If he had a dollar for every time she threatened to hunt down Jungkook, he would've had enough to pay off a doctor to keep quiet about the situation and send you to a hospital without getting outted.

Eventually, after getting your bullet wound under control, Chan declared he needed some air before he left the room, leaving Seungmin, Changbin, Ryu, Minho, and the two doctors to it.

"Adenocor isn't working," Joshua murmured, hearing how rapidly your heart was still beating. "We need to get her heart to slow down."

Aya turned to look at Changbin, who was now hanging back on Joshua's bed, "What did you give her?"

"Lycanthamine."

Aya's eyes widened, but her eyebrows stayed set low, "How much?"

"Maybe...two-thirds of a vile," Changbin shrugged before letting out a groan. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not a doctor! I tried!"

"What's happening?" Seungmin asked, not understanding anything that they were talking about.

"Lycanthamine could kill her," Ryu stated in a quiet, monotone voice through her sniffles.

"What? But she-- She's breathing!" Seungmin argued.

"And if her heart doesn't slow down to a regular pace, she won't be soon," Joshua murmured, still focused on trying to reset your heart. "We cauterized the bullet wound so there shouldn't be any internal bleeding. The only thing now is how fast her heart is beating. It's only getting faster."

Seungmin had stayed intently focused on the sound of your heart -- which, admittedly, was the fastest heartbeat in the house. It was fast and intense, but at least it was beating.

...Right?

"Too much Lycanthamine will kill a human," Changbin sighed, guilt clear in his voice even though he was trying to stay neutral and composed. Seungmin turned to look at his brother when he spoke, and he could see the regret all over his face, though he looked mostly pissed at himself. "Remember? You said you trusted me."

Seungmin wanted to say something, but before he could, he heard you begin to hyperventilate. Your eyes were still closed, but your chest was rapidly rising and falling with shallow, quick breaths. The beating of your heart was now rapidly increasing instead of so slowly that he hardly noticed.

"What's happening?" Minho questioned as Aya and Joshua were rushing to inject you with more medicine and check your vitals.

"Her heart is going too fast," Aya explained, trying to stay calm but she couldn't help the slight panic that leaked into her tone.

The room was filled with voices, quick and panicked. Aya and Joshua trying to work with each other to figure out how to slow your heartbeat down, Ryu explaining to Minho and Seungmin what was happening and why, and Changbin beating himself up silently behind them.

It only happened for 60 seconds. 60 seconds of absolute chaos. 60 seconds of Joshua and Aya rushing around each other and doing whatever they could think of to help. 60 seconds of voice muddling together, the mayhem piquing the interest of the werewolves downstairs who could hear the rushed talking and your even faster heartbeat.

And after 60 seconds, dead silence.

The whole house seemed to stop when your heart did. Joshua and Aya froze, golden eyes staring down at your lifeless body, eyes scanning your face, then your chest. Ryu, Minho, and Seungmin stopped talking with Minho mid-sentence. Changbin stopped pacing, turning his head toward the desk. And everyone downstairs, still a little on-edge from Ankita's allergy scare even after she left for the hospital, frozen in their places as they waited for what would come next.

Aya sighed, dropping her head as her eyes closed, "Call it."

Ryu screamed. The cry she let out sounded strangled, scratching her throat as it came out. Minho held her tightly, keeping her from going to you and making things worse -- not that they could get much worse, but he didn't need her punching you in the chest in a futile attempt to bring you back to life.

"Call it?!" Seungmin cried, looking down at the older wolf. "What do you mean?! That's it?!"

"1:17am," Joshua sighed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep his composure.

It hurt both of them to say it. A mate had died, and it was a mate of someone that may not have been in their pack, but they were still close with -- especially Aya. But there was nothing else they could do. You had now died twice within just a couple hours of each instance, and no doubt the insane amount of werewolf adrenaline had fucked with your heart. The odds of them getting it started again were slim to none.

Aya looked up at him with sad eyes, "Min, I-- ...We did everything."

"Aya, c'mon," his tone turned from angry and demanding to broken and pleading. His eyes were glossy as his bottom lip began to quiver. "Please, there's gotta be something; this can't be it, right? Aya?"

"Seungmin, I'm sorry," she stressed, taking his hands and looking him dead in the eye even though she didn't want to. She felt mildly responsible since you were alive for at least as long as it took to get you to them, and then some, but you still died because her and Josh couldn't fix you. "Her heart is damaged. We can't restart it again. I... Minnie, you know if I could do more, I would. I can't...I'm sorry..."

Tears welled in Aya's eyes, and that's when Seungmin knew that was really it.

His knees gave out, falling to them on the floor as he let out loud whimpers and sobs. Aya got down beside him, wrapping her arms around him and trying her best to comfort him as Changbin walked over and patted his back.

Downstairs, it was Seungcheol who quietly announced to the pack that you were gone. Chan had tried to contact Jisung to let him know, but his phone was turned off. The room was somber, wolves holding their mates just a little tighter. Tears were shed, even by those who hardly knew you, but because they couldn't even imagine what Seungmin was going through. They'd all heard the stories of what happened when a werewolf lost their mate, and now Seungmin had to live with that.

"God... Poor Seungmin..." Soonyoung murmured.

"I can't believe it..." Bomi let out a soft, sad laugh. "_____ was always so tough. She was one of the strongest people I know. Honestly, I thought she'd live forever."

Chan let out a deep sigh, wiping his tears with the back of his hand before he dropped his arm from around Aeri and stepped away, "I should...go upstairs."

"I'll go with you," Aeri stated more than she was offering.

"You should stay dow--"

"I'm going," she pressed again, walking toward the stairs before the alpha even could.

As the pair began up the stairs, all of the wolves suddenly stopped and looked toward the door. A handful of them let out low growls.

"What?" Juri asked when Seungcheol began moving her behind him.

"Jeonghan, get the mates upstairs," Seungcheol ordered quietly. "Jun, Wonwoo, and Hao, go with them."

"Felix, go," Chan nodded his head toward the stairs, telling him to go with them.

"Christopher, what is it?" Aeri demanded.

Bomi stood from the couch, catching onto what the wolves were sensing, eyes narrowed as she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, "Namjoon."

"Where's that spineless psychopath?" Hyunjin growled, already striding toward the door, "I'll tear him apart."

"Hyunjin," Chan growled.

The younger wolf stopped in his tracks despite the way his jaw and hands clenched.

"Seungcheol," Bomi spoke up calmly, eyes staying toward where the door was located even though she couldn't see it, "can I have my gun?"

"You're not--"

"And you are?" Bomi interrupted her mate's protests before they even started. "A werewolf against werewolf hunters? Absolutely not."

"I'm not leaving," Mingyu stated.

She shrugged, "Then stay behind me."

Soonyoung was the one to retrieve Bomi's old weapons as the mates were brought up the stairs to be kept safe. The rest of the werewolves stayed gathered behind Bomi, though none of them seemed happy about it from the way some of them continued to try to press so close against her that she was almost squished against the door.

Bomi opened the door before Namjoon could even knock. He was accompanied by Yoongi and Jimin.

"What do you want?" she questioned before Namjoon could even open his mouth.

"Would you believe me if I told you we want to help?" he asked.

She scoffed, "I'd sooner believe that Yoongi fell in love."

Yoongi rolled his eyes, "Ha ha."

"Why should we believe you?" Seungcheol was the alpha to step around Bomi to stand beside her. "Werewolf hunters don't help werewolves.''

"Not to mention you've only caused absolute hell for my pack," Chan spoke up, standing on Bomi's other side. "First a jealous ex, and now a jealous brother? No fucking way we want anything to do with you guys."

"I assure you, Taehyung isn't with us," Namjoon promised. "Him and Jin are out searching for Jungkook. What happened between him and _____ was not approved of by us. He did that behind our back."

"What he did breaks the treaty," Jimin added.

Namjoon nodded, "Exactly. That's why we're here to help."

Bomi narrowed her eyes, "You want to help because Jungkook broke the treaty?"

"Correct. It's the least we could do. Please believe us."

"And how could you help us?" Chan quizzed.

Yoongi let out a huff before he asked, "Do you want _____ back or not?"

-

Ryujin was already standing in the doorway when Chan led the hunter into the room. Her face was blotchy and swollen, and her eyes still had tears in them, but her gaze was fierce and, and she pointed an angel blade at the trio.

"Ryu--"

"Go away," she stated harshly, interrupting Chan. "I don't care if you think you can bring _____ back. I don't trust any of you."

"We tried to talk to her," Joshua told Seungcheol who gave him a questioning look from behind the hunters, "but she threatened us with the knife."

"Ryu," Namjoon began calmly, holding his hands in surrender, "we just want to help and then we'll be out of your life. You'll never see or hear from us again."

"That was supposed to be the case before," she pointed out. "Who's to say Taehyung and Jungkook won't team up and go behind your back again?"

"We'll make sure it doesn't happen," he promised.

"You know how tight we can keep the leash," Jimin smirked.

Ryu's eyes narrowed further, seeming to consider their offer.

Finally, she stated, "I want a deal with Jungkook."

"We can't find him," Yoongi plainly shrugged.

"Then bring him to me when you find him."

"If that's what you wish," Namjoon nodded. "But until then, we can't make a new treaty so that way we can come find you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Finally, Ryu lowered the knife and allowed Minho to bring her off to the side, allowing the three hunters in.

"How're you going to bring her back?" Chan wondered.

"Deal with the boss," Yoongi sighed, rubbing his hands together as he approached your body, still laying on the desk.

Joshua's eyes furrowed, "Boss?"

"Yoongi's a demon," Bomi explained, though she seemed very unimpressed.

"So...are we making a deal with...the devil?" Chan wondered slowly.

"This one's on the house," Yoongi told him, still facing your corpse. "Just between me and the big guy."

Seungmin walked over to stand beside Yoongi, golden eyes looking at your face that would've looked like you were sleeping if he knew your heart was still. Then he looked at Yoongi.

"Will she be...different?"

"No, but she'll be really sick when she wakes up."

Yoongi turned his head to the small audience, an eyebrow quirked and annoyance on his face, "Any other questions or can I get on with this?"

The room was silent, all eyes on Yoongi.

So the demon turned back to your body, closing his eyes as he hovered his hands over your heart and your stomach. He murmured to himself in a language Seungmin couldn't understand for a while, a soft glow starting to come from Yoongi's hands and slowly grow brighter and around your body. Yoongi's eyes shot open, eyes engulfed in black as his chanting continued, and your body began to bow upward toward his hands. With your body levitating off of the table, Yoongi leaned over toward your head, cradling your head with one hand while he used his thumb of his other hand to part your lips. What looked like white smoke came from Yoongi's lips as he continued to whisper words, and the smoke seemed like it was being sucked into your mouth even though you weren't breathing.

Then your body lowered back onto the table, with Yoongi still transferring the odd smoke into your mouth, and the light around you dulled.

Yoongi stood up straight again and watched your face without expression, the room behind him silent.

"W-what now?" Seungmin broke the silence, tearing his eyes away from your face to look at Yoongi.

And that was when you shot up, eyes wide and gasping for air like you had the first time. Yoongi caught you, expecting you to do this, and then quickly stepped to the side, still holding onto your shoulders as you coughed and threw up off of the desk and onto the floor. Black liquid mixed with blood pouring out of your mouth.

"God...fuck," you groaned when you could finally breathe.

"_____?" Seungmin said your name in a hopeful voice.

But all too soon, you slumped against Yoongi, eyes closing again.

But you were breathing. Your heart was still going, and at a normal pace this time.

You were alive.

"She'll probably be out for a while," Yoongi explained as he gingerly laid your body back down. "Like I said, she'll be sick for about a week, give or take a few days. It'll be bad. She's gonna throw up black stuff a lot, and probably have the chills. It's not gonna be pretty. Just stay with her. If she doesn't show signs of getting better within the next 7 days, bring her to our HQ."

"Now go find Jungkook," Ryu ordered behind him. "Leave."

Yoongi turned around, flashing her a sarcastic smile, "Of course, princess."

Yoongi stalked out of the room without saying anything else, and Jimin quickly followed after him. Namjoon lingered, eyes trained on you for just a moment longer before he moved toward the door. He met gazes with everyone in the room before he stopped on Ryu.

"We'll be in touch," he promised before Seungcheol and Bomi followed him out.

Even when the door closed, Seungmin didn't move. He continued to stand at the desk, next to your head. All he did was stare. He was afraid if he touched you, you might stop breathing again.

Ryu, however, rushed right over to you. She threw her torso over your body and sobbed loudly, but Seungmin's eyes stayed on your face.

Finally, he very gingerly took your hand in his and squeezed, eyes filling with tears once again. He was shocked he even had tears left in him.

Behind them, the two packs discussed if they should bring you back home or keep you there, but Seungmin wasn't paying attention. All he could focus on was your heartbeat. The sweet, sweet sound of hearing your heart again. He never thought he'd treasure that sound so much.

"Minnie," Chan's voice was right beside him as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Seungcheol's gonna make up the bed downstairs for you to stay with _____. Aya's mom will be over in the morning to check on her."

Seungmin nodded mindlessly, hardly even hearing Seungcheol.

The time it took to move your body was a blur to him. Your chest was wrapped in gauze, and Aya put a heart monitor on you. Seungmin had to admit he was impressed by the amount of equipment she had managed to smuggle into the house through various means.

By the time he crawled into bed beside you, he realized just how exhausted he really was. He wasn't sure the time, but he knew it was very early in the morning. He had been running purely on adrenaline and heartbreak, and now with his head against a pillow and your warm body beside him, all he wanted to do was snuggle against you and close his eyes.

But even unconscious, Seungmin respected your boundaries, settling for just wrapping his hand around yours before he closed his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

-

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[strawwritesfic]

Enma Kozato x Female!Vongola!Reader: Coda

Summary: Can we try again?

Rating/Warnings: T (post-Inheritance Ceremony arc; Friends to Lovers; Enemies to Lovers; Love Confessions; Face Slapping; Slapping; Delivery Person!Reader; Adelheid & Enma; Adelheid/Julie)

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: I've been in a Reborn mood lately, reviving some old OCs of mine with a friend via email. I'm even rereading what little of the official English translation manga there is. So I thought I'd brush off some of my old one shots for the series and post them, especially since I've had such kind feedback on the ones I've got on my Tumblr.

This was written back when I was in college, so probably circa 2011/2012. I did polish it up for this repost! Although there's really no helping the abrupt ending. I suppose I could have tacked something on, but the style would be so obviously different that it would really only make the original ending seem even more painful.

The reader character is based on (and originally written as) an OC in a roleplay group that I was in on DeviantArt at the time. I no longer recall the username, but credit where credit is due, so much as I can give it. The character's name was LaRae Souma.

Coda

Enma’s heart had never beat so wildly in his chest. Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump. In the silence of the growing evening surrounding him, the noise felt abnormally loud. He lifted a trembling hand to his chest and pressed it against his rib cage.

“Why are you doing this?” he mumbled.

His heart, of course, gave no answer. Or maybe it did. Maybe its attempts to tear itself free from his insides were its way of telling him how downright crazy this entire plan was. Whatever the reason, Enma really wished his traitorous organ would stop. This whole situation was hard enough without adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Trying to calm down was a vain effort. Enma knew that. He’d been trying to do whatever that would take since school got out hours ago. How many girls had passed by, giggling because of how weird he looked standing at the gate? How many bullies had come by to exact their “standing” tax?

Maybe that was why his heart was still going crazy. Maybe he was finally running out of blood, and this was its last, desperate attempt to get what was left to the rest of his body before it gave out. Enma supposed that wouldn’t be too bad, really. At least if he was dead he wouldn’t be picked on anymore. He wouldn’t fail any more tests, either. And, for the love of God, he would not have to do what he was planning to do next.

The bag at his side buzzed. His head turned toward it. He blinked before slowly plucking his cell phone from the bag's pocket. Who would be calling him now? It was nearly dark, and the Vongola had no reason to contact him.

“Hello?” he said.

“Enma. Are you all right? It’s late.”

Oh. It was only Adelheid, then. He probably should have known, but Aoba had stolen his phone and changed all the contacts to pictures of himself flipping the camera off, so now Enma had no way to tell who anyone calling him actually was.

“She hasn’t been by.” He stared down the street again. Still no shadows appeared to be growing against the bright red sky. “Maybe she’s not coming.”

“It’s nearly dark. I would say she’s not.”

“She could be working overtime.”

“Enma, just come home. We’ll order more food, and you can talk to her then.”

“I don’t want to say it front of Julie.”

“He’s not going to say anything. If he does, I’ll hit him.”

"I'll wait a little longer.”

“Okay.” This time, her voice sounded a little warmer. “Call me when you’re on your way home.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

He ended the conversation with a simple push of a button. Why hadn’t he taken the out Adelheid offered him? This was her idea to begin with, and Enma was seriously beginning to doubt her understanding of the matter. Her relationship wasn’t really comparable to his. All Julie had to do was grope her every once in a while.

Oh, God, was he going to have to grab your breasts? Did you even have those? It had been so long since he'd seen you that he didn’t remember. And Adelheid usually still slapped Julie when he did that. Enma didn’t really feel like being slapped. 

Was this what hyperventilating felt like? He had never done it before, so he didn’t know.

A rapid tapping came from down the vacant street. Enma looked up. Running down the shadowed walk was a figure moving at a quick pace. He stood straighter. Was it you? It had to be. His hands had started to sweat again. This did not make him feel any less like an idiot. He wiped them on his pants. That only made it worse; now he had wet patches on his legs.

The figure continued to draw nearer. The golden pool of light surrounding him was soon the one they stepped into, bringing their features were placed in high relief. [Color] hair, [color] eyes, waitress uniform. Yes, that was definitely [F Name] [L Name]. It didn’t take the painful lurch in his heart to tell him that much.

The moment of recognition must have been shared because you froze mid-step, one leg stuck awkwardly in the air. Enma reached up to ruffle the back of his head. Now he was completely lost. What was he supposed to do? You were just staring at him like he was a particularly disgusting bug that had fallen directly in your path.

Then your expression hardened. Your normally warm eyes he grown so accustomed to turned more brittle as you smacked your heel back down against the pavement. For a split second, he thought you were going to say something. Instead, you started moving again, your movements now choppy and stiff.

“[Name],” he said as you passed. 

You didn’t even spare him a second glance. 

“[Name]!” 

You did not even so much as twitch in his direction. 

Enma sighed. Now what was he supposed to do? Adelheid hadn’t described her plan past his finally making contact with you. Still, he was not the same boy you had known a year ago. Steeling himself, he moved off the wall and into step beside you. It was only be the grace of God that he didn’t fall flat on his face doing so.

"[Name].”

"What?” He had never heard you speak with that much venom in your voice before, at least not directed at him. He gulped. Maybe this was a dumb idea.

"I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in the middle of a delivery.”

“I know. It's for me.”

Thankfully, this was enough to get your attention. Once again, you stopped completely, though at least this time you remembered to put you foot down. Your mouth fell open in an “o.” Then you narrowed your eyes.

“What do you mean, it’s for you?” you asked.

“I ordered it. Can I have it, please?”

“No! I’m not giving you anything!”

“I’m going to pay for it.”

You continued to watch him for a few more seconds, then tossed the container at his head. Enma flailed. The box knocked straight into his temple before falling open on the ground. 

“Fine, then!" you snapped. "Eat it! See if I care!”

“Thank you,” Enma murmured. 

He bent down to retrieve the contents of whatever food he had asked for. He was so nervous that he didn’t remember, nor did he think he’d actually be able to stomach it if he tried. If he remembered correctly, most girls didn’t think it was cool when boys threw up their food. Once he had the scattered contents all gathered, he rummaged in his pocket until he found the wad of cash he had stuffed in it that morning–more than enough for both his food and a decent tip for you. 

“Your money." He held it out to you.

You said nothing as you snatched the cash out of his hand. And then you stood there. And continued standing there. Apparently you were intending to watch him eat the food. 

Groaning inwardly, Enma picked up the chopsticks and dug in without looking at what he was digging into. It was probably good, but he didn’t get to taste much before he started to choke. Seemingly satisfied with this development, you hopped on the wall and crossed your legs, the better to see him.

“Why’d you order from there anyway? Thought I didn’t work there anymore?” you asked.

“N-No,” Enma stammered. He was still coughing up bits of rice. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So you ordered food from my workplace?”

“It was the only way I could talk to you. You were avoiding me.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Right.” 

Enma gazed forlornly at his eating utensils. Why had he done this? Of course you didn’t want to talk to him. After what he did…The look of betrayal on your face as you stood there with the rest of your family, the way your eyes seemed to grow dim as you watched him mutilate your friends…His gut clenched every time he thought of it. Who was he kidding with this? You weren't going to want to hear him out. You didn’t even want to be his friend anymore.

He took a deep breath and looked up toward you. It looked like he was still Loser Enma after all. What he realized, however, was that you were no longer looking away. Instead you had the full force of your glare on him. He flinched.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

There could be a million things he hadn’t told you that you were asking about, each a worse secret than the one before. But Enma thought he had a pretty good idea what you were talking about. 

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he said.

“And why would I get hurt?”

He licked his lips. “My family…what we were doing…”

“Yeah, it was pretty stupid,” you snarled. “And thank you so much for showing such faith in me.”

“I didn’t want you to tell Tsuna. It was important. What if you said something and they found out?

You snapped straight up. Enma stumbled backward, managing to stay on his feet but spill what was left of his meal. This did nothing to stop you. In one easy movement, you jumped off the ledge, landed on your feet, and marched up to him. For a moment, all you did was look into his eyes. Then you launched yourself forward and started trying to smack every bit of him you could reach.

“Are you kidding me?" You all but shrieked. "I thought you trusted me! I thought I was your friend!”

“Ouch. [Name]. Stop." 

Your punches, if anything, merely increased in number. Enma groaned. What would Aoba and Julie say if they saw him now? Probably something along the lines of “You’re totally whipped!” Without thinking, he grabbed your wrists. You sucked in a breath. He supposed he had surprised you. The him of a year ago wouldn’t have tried to defend himself at all. One split second later, however, and you were back on the offense.

“You.” You tugged. “Are.” You tugged harder still. “Such a jerk, Enma Kozato!” You arched backward as far as you could. Still he did not let you go.

“I know," he said. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough! I don’t care what you have to say to me. Just go away!”

Enma took a deep breath. Now was good as ever. He didn’t think you were going to let him stick around much longer anyway. “I think I love you.”

The anger drained slowly from your face. Feeling that it might be safe to let you go, Enma released your wrists at last. He stuffed his now-free hands into his pockets and stared at his feet. The silence stretched on for several more minutes, and then there was a sudden whoosh and the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Enma’s eyes went wide. The sound of the slap echoed in the empty road.

“That’s for avoiding me for a year!” When he looked up, you were rubbing at your wrist and scowling. “Did you think I was going to yell at you?”

“Well, you’re doing a good job of it now,” he said as he pressed his palm against his stinging cheek.

“Because, Enma, you are an idiot.” You scowled at him again, then whirled on your heel and marched over to your delivery box. Without looking at him, you continued, but he noticed your voice was quavering a bit when you spoke: “If you’re just going to say empty words, then you can leave me alone. For good this time.”

“They weren't empty.” he mumbled at the ground. Enma thought that maybe he heard you pause before going on your way. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

Before you could answer–if you were going to answer, which he didn’t believe could be true at all–he started shuffling away. He didn’t get far before he managed to trip and crash face-first into the sidewalk. A sickening crunch sound coming from his nose told Enma that he had just seriously screwed up. Perhaps it would be best if he just stayed there in the dirt until you left. He didn’t want the last thing you saw of him to be the blood spilling profusely from his face.

“Enma? Are you okay?” 

Oh, crud, you were standing right above him. He craned his neck so he could see, trying to make sure you couldn’t get a look at the newest disfigurement on his face. You knelt down next to him and then dragged him to his feet.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

You frowned. “No, I will worry about it. Sit down.” 

You pushed down on his shoulder and Enma obeyed without thinking. What were you doing? Why were you still talking to him? Hadn’t you already left, glad to have him out of your life? While he was pondering all of this, you were digging around in your own bag. A few moments later, you pulled out a first aid kit. 

Enma leaned back. “You don’t have t–”

“Yes, I do.” 

Enma fell silent as you began to work on him. It almost felt like old times, except for the part where the girl he was in love with hated him. He could probably do without that. Well, that and the broken nose.

“Hold still. I’m going to set it. It’ll hurt.” 

He braced himself. Sure enough, you pressed your fingers onto both side of his nose and pushed. There was a loud pop and pain streamed into his face. Enma lifted his hand to feel his nose.

“Why did you…?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” you asked.

“Y-yes.” Did you find him terribly stupid? Were you going to laugh at him? 

You turned, face hidden as you placed your kit back in your bag. “Then why didn’t you talk to me for so long?”

“I was afraid you hated me. I didn’t want that.”

“I didn’t. I just wanted to hear from you. When I called and you didn’t answer…” You trailed off. He could see your eyes again. They were filling with tears. “I thought we were friends.”

“You’re my best friend, [Nickname].”

"It doesn’t feel like it.”

Enma stared at you. You looked away and dabbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “I’m sorry.” 

You didn’t answer. 

His eyes darted about the street. What he was about to do was risky, but maybe it would work out? Maybe this time he could actually do it. Maybe this time he wouldn’t be a loser. “[Name].”

You looked back. He shifted his bag so it was behind him, then opened his arms. You gawked at him, and he lifted them slightly. For a few more seconds, you did not move. Another flurry of anxiety rushed through him. Was he being dumb? Should he put his arms down? Were you just going to hit him again?

You blinked back another set of tears. Then you leaped forward and threw yourself into his arms. Enma closed them around you, shut his eyes, and buried his face into your soft hair.

“I love you, [Name]. Can I try again?”

“Only if you promise,” you sniffed, “to never lie to me again.”

Enma smiled. “I promise.”

In return, you wrapped your arms around him. “I love you, too, Enma.”

[quietwingsinthesky]

what do you think people would say about supernatural/the winchesters relationship if sam was female?

Realistically, I think Sam being a woman would have given the show itself free rein to be So Much Fucking Weirder towards her. I know this ask is mostly about the fandom’s reaction, but I need to set the basis that, given everything we know about how the show already is, Supernatural would have taken the Sam Experiencing Sexual Violence dial that is already at 9 and cranked that baby up to 20 and left it there for the whole run. And also, given everything else we know about the show, every time Dean ribs about Sam being gay in canon would either 1) stay that way but now have the extra layer of “Dean is really into watching girls fuck” on top of it to make it weird or 2) would just flat out be replaced with Dean hitting on Sam/insinuating something along the lines of ‘why would u ever want another guy? when I am here and all u need?’ because Dean is already a creep obsessed with his brother, can you imagine how it would’ve been written if he had a baby sister instead? Homophobia was the only thing holding the show back from flat out incest sometimes, I swear to god.

Okay, so. Now that I have established All Of That.

For one, we have to take into account how the fandom tended to react to female characters in general. Let’s see the forecast is uh. Bad. We are looking at huge divides between the “Sam is cool, we like her” and the “Sam is a bitch and the show should just be about Dean” crowds. (And the third crowd of “Sam should fuck her brother 😩”, absolutely wincest would still be a thing. It might be even more of a thing in this universe, but that’s all speculation.) Especially when s4 rolls around and Sam decides to be a little evil (and have a girlfriend? I’m assuming everything else in the show goes as is, and so would the Ruby plotline. Which means that’s going to awaken even more things in people than it already does. I would have stopped functioning if I saw girl!Sam/Ruby blood drinking and fucking on my screen as a preteen do you have any idea-) People are going to villainize the shit out of her for that, never let it go.

(Now, as the fandom ages, a lot of this is gonna simmer down like it did for real for characters like Bela. But in the moment? A goddamn war zone. Toxic waste dump.)

And we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Destiel. We already exist in a world where Sam will be completely sidelined and erased to get Dean and Castiel’s love story to seem like the most important plot of Supernatural. Now, I want you to imagine the absolute hell that would be to exist in a fandom where Destiel is the big slash ship and the other main character of the show is a woman. At best, continued sidelining. At worst, we are looking at “Sam is a bitch and the show should be about dean only” attitudes that carry forward into “Sam is a bitch who is in the way of destiel and should be killed off to get her out of the way.” Which you may note is usually a role given to female love interests that are despised for breaking up the main ship. This is because, for all intents and purposes, Sam is the main love interest in competition with Castiel for Dean. On a fandom level between ship wars of destiel vs wincest, but also textually, in the show, beyond shipping, Sam fills out that role in a platonic way as well and Castiel doesn’t. If Sam was a woman, this spells bad news for her. No woman gets in the way of gay ships and comes out unharmed.

Okay and now let’s talk about Lucifer because we need to talk about Lucifer, I’m a Lucifer blog, I’m a samifer girl, and I can tell you that none of these things would change for me if I was watching this version of the show lol. But! Remember what I said about the Sam Sexual Violence dial? Yeah. That is going to be. Extremely loud. Every time Sam and Lucifer are in the same scene. I guarantee you this is the universe where we get evil forced Samifer kisses at multiple points. This is absolutely the universe where, when Lucifer decides he wants a kid, he tries to get Sam pregnant first and only if he fails does he move onto someone else (and hint: he probably doesn’t fail.) Think about every Sam & Lucifer scene that ever happened and now reimagine it but the show can now be as weirdly sexually violent as it feels like because it’s “straight” now. The innuendos are out, and Lucifer is going to pin Sam against a wall at some point.

I’m very into this, but I feel like this would make the whole fandom situation around them a lot worse. People already get up in arms around samifer, or even liking Lucifer at all. If all that subtext became flat out text and people could gif “Times Lucifer sexually assaulted Sam on screen” into little gotcha compilations, it would be way more of a struggle to exist around here.

But like I’d still be into it so I’d definitely still be here, give me those comps, I’m gonna jerk off to them

ANYWAY. That’s what I think would change if Sam was a lady. Overall, not great, but I think there would also be a lot of people who find her relatable, empowering, etc, and really enjoy her as a woman. Probably the same people who like Sam now, honestly. If there’s any universe I got a chance to peak into, I’d want it to be this one. If only for samruby canon lesbian sex.

[giggly-squiggily]

If you would like to could we get some raileon? Maybe some cheer up tickles after Leon lost his title or smth? Thank you!!!!!!

Here we are- my last official Sword and Shield fic. It feels so sentimental! I’ve gotcha covered anon :) Thank you for this chance to send off the series with what I hope to be a bang!

“There’s my guy.” Raihan smiled at his boyfriend, a mug of tea in hand as Leon shuffled into the main room. It was a few days after the championship battle, and while he was taking it well for the most part, there was certainly an air of gloominess around the usually upbeat Leon.

Not that Raihan could blame him. He’s had his own low days post a really big battle, though those admittedly don’t compare to losing a title such as “Unbeatable Champion”. The thing that bothered Raihan the most though wasn’t the gloominess, it was Leon’s reluctance to actually talk about it. Anytime Raihan asked before it was met with a sad smile and a “Don’t worry- I’ll be okay.” Followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Raihan couldn’t simply not worry. He was his boyfriend! What kind of request is that?

“Thank you.” Leon’s voice shook him free from his internal complaint. The purple haired man smiled behind his mug as he sipped, pleased with the taste. “You always make the best tea, Rai. You’ll have to show me next time how you do it.”

“Easy enough- brew it and don’t forget about it for twenty minutes.” Raihan teased, making the other man laugh. What a nice sound- he hadn’t realized how much he missed it. “Lee-”

“Rai.” Leon raised a brow, already knowing where this was going. “I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” Raihan raised his chin stubbornly. “You don’t have to be ‘fine’ around me, Lee. If you’re not okay, you can tell me. I’m not gonna think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There was a moment where Raihan was sure he was going to break. A cloud in his expression, followed by longing to talk. But then the mask came back on and Leon simply smiled, taking Raihan’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “I know, and I love you for that. Hell- I love you for everything you do and are. I promise I’m not acting ‘fine’, I just need a second to figure everything out.”

Raihan wanted to argue. He wanted to say “That’s not enough” and pry the answer out of him. Selfish as it was, he wanted so desperately to make Leon say what it was he was feeling in that moment.

Instead, he let the other squeeze his hand, leaning in and kissing Leon’s furry cheek. “Fine. But I’m not letting this go. You’re gonna have to tell me eventually. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

~~~

That was a week ago. Now he sat with his boyfriend on the couch, watching a random movie they’ve seen a hundred times. It was a comfort movie at this point for them- especially Leon. Even after all this time, he still watched like it was the first time he was seeing it. 

Things have been better, he noticed. Leon wasn’t as down as he was days prior. He smiled more, and the soft bounts of laughter were not as rare.

Still- Raihan wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted more.

And if he couldn’t pry for Leon’s feelings regarding the Champion thing, he was certainly gonna pry for more laughter.

Feeling mischievous, he waited until a similar scene to strike. The characters within were joking back and forth, the female lead raising wiggling fingers at her girlfriend with playful menace.

“Alright.” Raihan spoke with her, quoting the movie as he mirrored her movements. “If that’s how you wanna play.” He grinned when Leon startled, leaning away halfheartedly. “Here I come!”

“Rai! Hang ohohohohoohn!” Leon gasped out before falling into giggles, pushing at his boyfriend as the other clawed at his ribs. “Whahahhhahat the hehehehehhehell?”

“Come on, Lee. You and I both know what’s up.” Raihan snickered as he wormed his hands towards the back, pinching his ribs and making the other laugh harder. “I wanna hear you laugh! It’s been too long- come on; smile for me!”

“I ahahhahahhalrehahahahahdy ahahahhaham!” Leon tried to argue, but any attempts of conversation were instantly lost as Raihan gave each rib a playful poke, making him squeak and squirm about. “Rahhahhahhai, cohohohohome ohohohohohon!”

“Come on what? Keep tickling you?” Raihan snickered, leaning in and roaring playfully against his neck. “Fine! Here comes the tickle dragon! Rawr!”

Leon snorted against him, scrunching up as Raihan blew raspberries against his neck. The hands on his ribs pinched that awful spot below his ribs, relentless as they drew out endless giggles and snorts. “RAHAHHAHAHAI PLEHAHHAHAHAHSE!”

“Please what?”

“STAHAHHAHAP TIHIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE!”

“Are you sure?” Raihan asked.

“YEHHEHEHS!”

“Positive?”

“RAHHAHAHAI!”

“Heh, okay okay.” He sat up with a grin, watching as Leon melted against the couch. His hair was a mess, and his cheeks were stained, but he was smiling. A big, radiant smile that melted Raihan’s heart almost instantaneously. “Cutie.”

“Oh Shuhuhhush you… hell, Rai, what was that fohohohr?”

“Felt like it.” A half truth. “You looked like you needed a laugh so…yeah.”

Leon watched him as he recovered, eyes soft. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “About the Champion thing…I’m ready to talk about it.”

Raihan tried not to look eager. “Oh?”

Leon laughed, reaching up and stroking his cheek. “Try not to look too excited.” Relaxing, he looked away as he chose his words. “I wasn’t all that sad, losing.”

Raihan raised a brow. Leon waved him off. “Don’t look at me like that- I’m serious. Yes, it sucks to lose, but I really wasn’t that sad. Gloria, she earned that championship. I couldn’t have been prouder.” Leon smiled, eyes warming in memory. “And to be honest, I was kinda glad to lose. Being a Champion for so long…it weighs on you.

“I think that’s the part that made me sad; I felt so guilty for not being sad, you know? For a moment, I thought my lack of feeling down cheapened her win. Like it was no big thing, even though it was probably the biggest thing for both of us. That and…I don’t know how to describe it, but I feel…off. Like; a chapter of my life is gone. I’m starting to find a new place for my life, and it’s…uncomfortable.” He laughed weakly, playing with the cuff of Raihan’s sleeve. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“The furthest thing from it.” Raihan told him, meeting his eyes. “You taking the loss well doesn’t cheapen anything. You’re not a sore loser, and that’s what makes people respect you. If anything, your pride in her for winning made it that much more special. You don’t have to feel bad for not being upset.

“As for the new chapter thing, that’s expected, Lee. Anytime something new happens in our life, it’s gonna be uncomfortable. It’s the awkward middle stage between the old us and the new us- kinda like puberty.” That earned a snort, making Raihan smile. “Nothing you’re feeling right now is stupid, so don’t beat yourself up for not reacting the way you think you should react. Just…well, react.”

Leon hummed in thought, letting everything settle. Then he smiled, a real one this time as he pulled Raihan down, kissing him gently. The other melted near instantly, deepening their kiss and filling the former champion’s body with warmth.

When they pulled away, a tad breathless and flushed, Leon pulled him against his chest, holding him close. “Thank you. I appreciate you so much, Rai.”

“Of course, Lee. I’m gonna be there for you no matter what.” Raihan closed his eyes, the sounds of the movie filling the comfortable silence as they stayed like that the rest of the night.

I hope this was good!

[comphetkoncass]

it’s hard being a feminist because once you notice misogyny in an industry you never really stop seeing it. i’ve been trying to backread through the 90s and early 2000s and it’s a 50-50 crap shoot with how women are written.

it’s just a constant stream of ‘why were all the women left out of this arc. why did she change her costume to this. why is she in full glam makeup under a fucking mask. why is she in full glam makeup with eyeliner on patrol anyway, it’s like wearing makeup to the fucking gym. why isn’t she in a leadership position despite routinely being the most level headed. nevermind actually why is she suddenly making out of character choices for no fucking reason. why was she written ignoring a man’s sexual boundaries. why are 4/5ths of rapists in DC (that fandom will acknowledge) badly written WOCs in a time when there were so few well-written WOCs. why do so many ignore the sexual violence perpetuated by male heroes and villains and it’s secondary to the other good or evil they do. why are women who are sexually assaulted somehow to blame for “getting themselves into that situation”. why isn’t she allowed to kill her rapist. why is a woman the one behind this woman’s assault. why does dc ignore all sexual assault statistics and make it more common for men to be assaulted when we all know goddamn reality, and that women (and men) are much more likely to be assaulted by men. why is her backstory routinely ignored by fandom and canon alike. why is she drawn with the villain in a sexualized way. why was she the one to kill off in this arc. why is she posed like that in a fight. why does she seem to not have half her ribs. why is she the emotional support character. why isn’t she contributing to any major arcs and relegated to space adventures with no legacy or market friendly characters. why is she in a one night stand with this rando and why is it just to show the audience how sexy she is. why is she making jokes about bondage and submission when the men never joke about sex on patrol. why does nothing she does seem to matter. why was she stripped of her agency here. why did her male teammate take over. why was she a damsel in distress for the 30th time. why is her backstory like that. why does fandom ignore female sexual trauma specifically to prop up male sexual trauma (this for quadruple for dick grayson fans). why is there zero body type diversity except occasionally in boob size. why did comics portrayal of women actually worsen from the 90s-2010s. why does superman get to be fully clothed but starfire doesn’t when both of them get power from the sun. why do we have women in cutout costumes say they actually feel super empowered but we never see a man “””empowered””” enough to wear almost nothing as his fucking uniform. (bear in mind these are fucking fictional characters written by men, they cannot be empowered, they exist purely for entertainment.) why is she on the cover posed sexily but does little to nothing in the comic itself. why are there pregnancy arcs that are the height of drama for women but the fathers to be aren’t fucking affected aside from shock. why do we write women as either the emotional support side character or as the most irrational emotional person on the team. why does the girl have to prove herself to the team when the boys didn’t. why is there a fucking panty shot on this cover and why is the artist who drew it still alive and in the industry.’

anyways. exhausting. i’m still driving to the comic book store today and i feel better about recent issues. but the back issues always make my skin crawl.

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

ch. warnings: mention of family death

prev chapter // next chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

ch. 10 ~ when the rain stops

The dorm was quiet. Each kid was tucked away and asleep. Chan, as per usual, was the only one still awake. He had kept his promise to his fellow Aussie, coming home with the rest of them as soon as their schedule for the day had ended. He had taken a long, warm shower and spent a number of hours playing games with the kids before they all retired for the night. Now, he laid in bed with his closed laptop next to him and his phone next to his head.

He would have settled for an early sleep had it not been for the way his phone vibrated as soon as his eyes began to shut. The man turned to the screen, wondering who would be contacting him at that hour. Familiar smiling honey eyes stared back at him as her name flashed across the device, causing his face to lift in a tired grin.

“Petal,” Chan cooed happily as he answered the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure of an after-hours phone call from you?”

“…Chan?”

He froze. It took nothing more than his name on her tongue for Chan to know that something was wrong. It was the tone of her voice. The shake in her breath. The twist of her letters. His heart clenched in his chest as he lifted himself into a seated position on his bed, the sheet falling away from his bare chest.

“Sakura. What’s wrong?” He waited for her reply, growing more anxious with every second of silence that passed.

“Are you busy? I don’t want to bother you,” she finally said, no emotion to her words.

Chan was tumbling out of bed before she reached the end of her sentence, his free hand feeling around violently for the nearest sweater. With his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear, he rushed to throw on clothes.

“No, not busy at all. What do you need, petal?”

“Can I see you?” He heard it. Barely there, but loud as the rolling thunder. The crack in her voice when she asked for him. A hiccup followed shortly after.

“Where are you? The river?”

“Namhansanseong Fortress.”

Chan cursed under his breath. “Petal, what are you doing there?”

“Can I see you?” she pleaded a second time, not knowing that the male was already out the front door.

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

<3      <3      <3

It wasn’t long before the cab pulled up at the familiar wall, the air cold and damp as if expecting rain. As if the sky would cry too. Chan hurried out of the car, not waiting to see it leave before taking off towards her location. His eyes searched for her, worried pants raking his chest. Chan felt his heart lurch beneath his ribs. He found her, a few feet off the ground walking along the top of the jagged fortress wall. She had both arms stretched out at her sides, and her lips pulled tight with utter focus. A breeze pushed the hair from her face, bringing his attention to the red rings around her eyes and the tint to her cheeks and nose. Her body tilted before fixing itself, arms tipping at each side of her frame.

“Sakura!”

The man ran towards her, watching as she spun towards the sound of his voice. All he could hear was the blood thumping violently in his ears as he rushed towards the her. Chan was only some meters away now. Her smile widened at the sight of him while one foot slipped forward on the stone. But before she could fall, Chan reached the wall, securing both arms around her waist before pulling her into his chest.

“Hi, Nemo,” Sakura giggled. Chan ignored the squeeze beneath his sternum at the sound of her laughter, focusing on the slur in her steps and the weight of her unsteady figure. Holding onto her upper arms, he let his gaze speed over her for any signs of a drunken fall, or any other pain.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The girl shook her head frantically before another round of laughter bubbled up. Chan sighed.

"You're drunk, petal."

"And you, Christopher, are annoyingly sober," she shot back, a tilted smile gracing the span of her face. "Why is that?"

With a tired huff, he let go of her, walking towards the walk and sitting on its edge to catch his breath. He raked a hand through his hair, pushing the hood off his head in the process. "I don’t drink much, not the biggest fan of alcohol. Plus, people make the worst decisions when they're drunk."

"I’d beg to differ. I have never once made a bad drunk decision," she tells him proudly, a lopsided grin etched into her face. 

Chan snorted. "There's no way that’s true."

She feigned a serious expression, hands firmly on her hips. "I'm telling the truth,” she shot back through pouting lips. A hand raised to her heart. "Scouts honour."

"You're telling me that you make no stupid choices when you’re drunk? That the only thing a lack of sobriety makes you do is dance clumsily?" His comment earned him a flash of her pink tongue, followed by a small shrug of her shoulders. "Were you drunk that night too? When we met?"

Sakura shook her head. "Nope."

She clumsily hopped up onto the wall besides him. "Do you want to know what I think?" Chan responded with a tilt of his head, eager to hear her answer. Her heart stopped at the sight. She forced herself to shake off the feeling. "I think that people truly make the worst decisions when they're happy. When they feel like nothing could possibly break them. No amount of water can sober up a mind drunk on pure joy. And that, Christopher, is what gets us. Not alcohol, but happiness."

“Why are you drunk, Sakura?”

“Because, Christopher,” she said. “I am living through something that is too painful to experience sober.”

Chan looked at her, waiting patiently for Sakura to explain.

“The last two years weren’t the best for me. I lost my uncle, and then my grandmother. A few months later I said goodbye to another uncle…and then otōsan got really sick. It was unexpected. I thought it would pass. That he would come back from the hospital when he said he would. But he never did. 19 days and h-he was gone too. I-I haven’t exactly been handling the grief that well. My brother was never home, and my sister shut down. And okaasan…I had to be strong for her. For both of them. I buried myself in my studies until the feelings were so deep down that it could be easily ignored. But sometimes…sometimes it comes back.”

“Sakura,” he said in a sorrowful voice. She hated the tone. It made her skin itch, and her eyes sting. She hated the way her throat closed up at the sympathy laced into his tone.

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t say it like that.”

Chan brushed off the aggression and continued, “You’ve been through all that in just one year? How are you even managing?”

Sakura shrugged, a drunk giggle slipping from between her poison tinted lips.

“I don’t know, really. Physically, I feel fine. Great even. Mentally, I’m managing. And emotionally-well, I’ll cross that rickety old bridge when it begins to crumble beneath my feet, I guess.”

“Sakura,” he said again, his voice just above a whisper.

The sound of her name caused her to look at him, a smile still on her face, red from the alcohol running through her blood. A minute hiccup was heard, her head tilting to one side.

“You’re not okay, are you, petal?”

The accusation hit her like a wave of Arctic waters, her high spirits crashing down and disappearing with the foam. It was enough to sober her up, just enough that a crack formed in her façade. And Chan watched in silence as her entire being began to fracture right in front of him.

The first change was seen in her eyes. Bright beads of unpolished amber in the darkness, unable to meet his gaze. They fluttered around, trying to grasp onto anything in sight that could draw her attention away from the dreaded question. But her thoughts beat her to it, digging its talons into her mind and not letting go. And suddenly it was all she could think about. Her eyes misted over, and all she could do to stop the tears from forming was look up. At the stars. To where she knew he was. Then came her smile. The once vibrant bend straightened out, curving downwards as they began to quake. Her bottom lip was tugged between her teeth, leaving indents behind when released. Her throat bobbed as she choked down the noises she wanted to make, the cries she wanted to let out. Like every time before, she forced it down.

But Chan saw it all; knew that she was hurting so badly that she didn’t want to feel or think. That she didn’t want to breathe.

She reached down out of habit, her fingers curling around her own wrist tightly. “I don’t think I am, Chan.” And with a smile of cracks and whimpers, she let out a truthful answer. “It hurts. So much.”

“All this time, have you let anyone comfort you?” Ashamed, she shook her head, and Chan felt a large piece of his heart chip away.

Without warning, he took the remaining steps towards her and gathered Sakura up in his arms in one swift movement. His arms wrapped tightly around her body, as if he hoped to squeeze all the broken pieces of her soul back into one. One hand slid up into the hair at the back of her head, allowing her face to be hidden from sight. Protected from judgement. From the embarrassment she may feel from him seeing her cry. His cheek pressed against the side of her head, and all it took was one whisper for her walls to come crashing down around her.

“I’m here now, petal,” he whispered to the girl in his arms. “You can let go.”

The build-up was slow, but soon he could feel the tremors running through her body; could hear the sobs that tore from her lips.

“Why do they keep leaving me?” She sobbed into his chest, her words shredded by hiccups and pained cries. Each sound ripped through his heart. He tried to hold her tighter, to keep her closer. Chan wanted to give her every happy thought and precious memory and pray that it makes the hurt in her heart a little less. He wanted to beg before every celestial being until they took the pain from her life and rid the world of it entirely. He prayed on each tear that she shed. A prayer for better days and healed pasts. He wanted her to be okay.

But she wasn’t, and that was the reality he had to live. So, in that moment, he hugged her a little tighter and wished for her pain to morph into peace.

“You know,” she said in between tears, “there was this cat in our neighbourhood that my sister and I absolutely adored. He wasn’t a stray, he wore a collar, but he was always roaming around visiting the different houses. We started playing with him whenever he came by, and soon he started coming by daily. Otōsan hated it, didn’t want the cat around at all. But after a while, he started warming up to the small thing. He ended up loving the cat like it was our own.” The smile that had started to form on her face faltered. “According to my sister, the cat went missing recently.”

Chan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging the girl as close to his body as possible. She nuzzled further into his side, hands clenching at her sides.

“Maybe I’m just cursed to lose everyone that I start to love.”

It took him less than a second to take her chin into his grasp and force her to look up at him. Her eyes were glossy, but they didn’t once waver while staring up at him. Honey covered in the clearest layer of ice. The arm that had been around her dropped, hand resting just above her hip instead. Sakura could feel the way the hand pressed to her side shook. However, when she looked at him, only calm was seen. No furrowed eyebrows. No clenched jaw. Just the same kind eyes and half smile that she had become so familiar with.

“You are not cursed,” he told her. They were simple words, but Sakura found believing them to be the real challenge. She had lost too many to think those words were true.

“Everyone I love has left me, Chan. What other explanation is there?”

“The stars are testing you. You just have to push through until the test is over.”

Sakura scoffed. “I’d rather be cursed.”

“Then I shall call you Rika.”

“What?”

He laughed gently, reveling in the look of confusing that had traded places with the sadness in her eyes. How I wish you knew, petal.

“At the end of the day, test or no test, cursed or not cursed, you still have your okaasan. Your siblings. Your friends.” Chan leaned in closer. His lips stopped a breath away from her own. “You still have me, petal.”

With that, he leaned up and pressed the gentlest kiss to her forehead. And like timid waves over stick strokes on the shore, Sakura felt the panic fade away. With his gentle hands still cradling her damp face, she felt the pad of his thumb glide over her cheek.

And when one corner of her lips finally twitched up in a hint of a smile, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell in his chest.

“There’s my girl.”

“Do you remember when we met?” Sakura began. “You told me that I looked unbothered by the world, that my freedom enticed you so much that you couldn’t help but approach. This past year, being here in Seoul, was meant to be a time where I could find myself again. I was so lost after he died. I just gave up. The things I once loved became poison; I couldn’t go near a paintbrush for months. And that night was the first time in a year that I knew what I wanted to do with my near future.” She turned towards him, admiring the way his eyes stayed on her no matter how she shifted. She was all he saw. Only her. “That day, I submit an application to do a one-year postgraduate course at this university in Africa, and sending it in alone gave me such a rush. I laughed. There was nothing funny in sight but I just laughed. For once I was excited for my return home. For once I wasn’t worried about anything or anyone else. I was happy.”

“That’s why you were dancing?”

Sakura nodded, her head falling to lay on Chan’s shoulder.

“Would things have gone the way it did if you weren’t happy that night?” he asked, referring to himself and all of their interactions since that one night.

“I think I would have walked away. Or I may not have even been out there that night. But I was happy, and I was there, and so our paths crossed.”

“I’m glad it did,” he whispered honestly.

Her mouth opened to respond, but she stopped when Sakura felt a wet drop on her cheek. She had long stopped crying, her breathing slowly regaining its normal rhythm. The drop was too cold to be her own. Then she felt another, and it dawned on her. The clouds had thickened, the temperature dropping as the sky prepared to let go. And as she started to tell Chan her predictions, it started. Light, but quickly falling heavier on their heads.

“My car is this way,” she yelled over the rain, dragging him up and towards the parking lot nearby. They continued running, even as his hand slipped out of her own.

Slowly, his steps lost momentum until he was standing still in the downpour, staring after her. He watched as Sakura turned to look for him, surprise covering her face when she noticed the distance between them now. Her mouth moved, but her words fell mute to the sound of the heavy droplets falling around them. Chan didn’t know why, but he couldn’t look away. They were both near drenched and cold. Sakura’s hair was flattened against her head, curls of dark hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead. Her clothing clung to her frame. She looked a mess. And yet, he couldn’t look away. In that moment, Chan felt himself wishing. He watched as the rain fell and kissed her in a way that he yearned to. Hard. Continuously. Without an end in sight. He found himself longing for her the way a desert traveler craved for the water of an oasis; so close to the eyes, but so far from touch.

“Chan, let’s go!” He heard her voice through the rain, pulling him back to reality.

They reached the car, Sakura handing Chan her keys before getting into the passenger side. While the cold rain had aided in sobering her mind, she didn’t trust herself to drive. Luckily, the male didn’t seem to mind, pulling out of the lot as soon as the car was warm enough to keep their chills at bay for the period of the drive.

It was a quiet drive, and once they reached her building, Chan followed her up. He refused to leave without seeing that she was safely in her apartment. Praying that she hadn’t left the rooms in a state, Sakura punched in her code and entered.

He had already started to take a step away when Chan felt her grab onto his forearm, stopping him from leaving.

“You’ll get sick. Stay for a while. Just until you’re dry, or at least until your driver gets here,” she tried to convince him, nervous that the cold would cause him to fall sick during such a busy time.

Chan looked down at her, observing her. The way her eyes stayed on the area where she held onto him, fingers curling slightly in the wet material of his sleeve. And when her gaze lifted to meet his, he knew that there was no way he would ever be able to say no to her. Fuck, those eyes. He was nodding before the action even registered in his brain, caving at the first sight of her victorious smile.

“We don’t have a working drier right now, but I’ll grab you a towel in the meantime.”

So, he let her drag him back into the depths of her apartment until he found himself in the living room area. A long white couch covered the length of the wall to his left, an array of abstract paintings hanging above it. Chan could just make out the golden ‘S’ in the bottom corner of the largest piece, recognising it from the canvases scattered around Sakura’s art class. A horizontal cabinet of equal colour to the couch sat along the opposite wall. Photo frames and the rare succulent littered its top, a television seated at the very centre.

In his blind admiration of the room, Chan hadn’t noticed that Sakura had disappeared for a moment, only to reappear with a fluffy blue towel big enough to wrap around his shoulders. The girl lazily tossed it over his head before retreating to her room to change. Chan huffed, pulling the towel off his head with a boyish pout. He attempted to dry his pants first. When it was as dry as he could get it to be with the towel alone, Chan moved on to his sweatshirt.

A door opened, and Chan looked up to see Sakura exiting a room wearing lilac hoodie and matching sweatpants; a green clip keeping her damp hair in place at the back of her head. In her hands sat a bundle of black.

“Here, it’s clean.”

Upon closer inspection, Chan recognized it as his own hoodie. The one he had given her when they were on the company rooftop.

“Is this-“

But she had already turned away, promising not to look as she headed towards the small kitchen on the other side of the open space. There, she busied herself with the few dishes that had been left to dry besides the sink after that morning’s breakfast. Sakura kept her eyes on the glass bowl in her hands, focusing on returning every item of cutlery and crockery to its respective homes. Focusing on wiping down the granite countertops until they were spotless. Definitely not focusing on the fact that the boy that made her heart burn was potentially shirtless right behind her. She dropped the rag in her hands, reaching up in an attempt to cool her slowly heating face.

An awkward cough was heard behind her, some vague signal that it was all clear. Sakura let out a breath. Safe at last.

When the last of the misplaced items had been stashed away, Sakura turned her attention back to the lounge, only to spot her guest sitting on the ground on the farthest side of the room. Chan had the towel laid out beneath him, back against the extended bit of wall as he stared out at the mourning sky.

“You’re on the floor,” she stated, grabbing her own towel off a nearby chair.

Chan looked up at her innocently, eyes wide and honest. “I was afraid the water would ruin your couch.”

“Your hair is still dripping, Nemo,” Sakura teased, watching as panic flashed through his eyes. He rushed to push the damp hair out of his face, stray droplets flying as he pulled his hood up and over his head with a quick apology.

“Don’t do that, you’ll-Forget it, come here.” The boy’s movements paused, eyes lifting to meet hers. She back tracked to the kitchen table, knowing he would refuse any instruction to sit on the couch. So again, she looked at him, calling him over until she saw him stand hesitantly.

“Sit,” she instructed, eyes flickering down to the open seat.

And he listened. Chan let himself sink down into the seat, hands tucked away in the pocket of his hoodie as he stared up at her waiting. Tense. It was only when Sakura placed her own towel over his head that he seemed to acknowledge what she was doing and relaxed. With careful hands, she patted the water out of his hair in slow motions, trying her best not to accidentally tug too hard.

“I feel like a little kid,” she heard him mumble from beneath the towel, a laugh following his words.

“You look like a little kid,” Sakura responded, yelping when she felt a pinch at her waist.

So, in a true mature response, she pulled on his hair. Hard. Only he didn’t react in the way she had expected. No pinch or shout or taunt. No. Chan’s head fell back, the towel flapping open and exposing his face to her gaze. Her stared up at her, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written all over his face. Shock – and something else? Sakura felt her body heat up at the thought. Her hand was still locked in his hair, tangled in the web of dark curls that stuck to her digits. She was lost. And when she felt his hands creep up to rest on the curves of her hips, she knew there was no hope in finding a way back from where they were.

Sakura blinked, breaking all eye contact and tension to say, “Your hair is all curly.”

He chuckled; hands still firmly pressed against her sides, thumbing her waist through the material of the soft hoodie that she wore. “It gets like that when its wet.”

Chan pulled her closer so that she stood between his knees. She didn’t stop him. Instead, Sakura curled a lock of his hair around her index finger. “I like it.”

I like you.

“Yeah?” Sakura nodded, watching the locks bounce back into place as she soaked up more water. Once it was no longer dripping, Sakura gave him the okay, but the man went right back to his spot on the floor. She rolled her eyes, but followed him, lowering herself until she was seated on the floor opposite him. His focus stayed on the rain outside. Sakura rests her chin on her raised knees, wrapping both arms around her legs. She stares at him, eyes shining with curiosity in the dim light.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours, Nemo?”

Chan sat silently; eyes cast to the outside world as he wondered. He found himself thinking back to the night she had come to his aid, cradling his face in her small hands as he trembled. She had been there for him. Give me the weight of your sky, she had said. Please, she had pleaded. He snuck a glance at the girl sitting opposite him, waiting patiently for his response. One look into her eyes, and suddenly, he was passing a cloud-covered sky into her outstretched palms.

“You were right,” he admitted, immediately feeling the weight lift from his chest. He inhaled with ease, eyes finding the cars passing below them. “I need to learn to allow the kids to help me. I know what they do in secret, how they disguise their help by asking me for help, because they know well that I would never turn them down.”

 

“Hyung, I know you’re busy, but that I’m at the company gym and I really need your help. None of the instructors are here to spot me and lord knows Seungmin’s arms would snap if he even tried to help with this amount of weight on the bar. Think you could come down and help me out, just for an hour?”

 

“Hyung, would you help me make dinner tonight? Felix really wants brisket and I need an extra set of hands that I know won’t get in the way of my mastery.”

 

“Chan-hyung, would you mind sitting still for a little longer? I want to practice drawing people, and the others keep moving around when I try. Please, hyung? I won’t take too long. Just this once? Thank you!”

 

“But it’s not just the kids, everyone else looks to me for strength too. I do those weekly lives for them, so that our Stays, or anyone really, have one hour of peace to look forward to at the end of every chaotic week. They have something safe to be excited about, a reason to make it to Sunday,” he told her. Chan leaned his temple against the glass, closing his eyes.

As he spoke, Sakura listened intently with an open mind, and content heart. After helping so many, he was allowing someone to help him.

“There’s this constant pressure of being who they think I am. This perfect, smiling leader who they can rely on to always be there. And that’s what I want to be, don’t get me wrong. But,” he pauses. “But I’m human too. I fall and I break and I have days when getting out of bed seems impossible, and sometimes even I need the Chan that they depend on so wholly.”

He let out a tired sigh. “It’s hard being human, when the person they believe me to be…isn’t.”

“Me saying this is in no way meant to invalidate what you’re feeling,” Sakura started, wanting to get her thoughts across clearly. “But I can assure you that they know you’re human. They may know it more than you yourself do, Chan. Why do you think they – we – pester you about getting enough sleep? Why at least once every live, someone asks if you’ve eaten, or how you are? Your life is a double-edged sword. I know it’s not ideal to have your life’s events be as public as yours are, but because of this your fans have seen you go through all of your phases. Good and bad. Every victory and failure, every loss and gain, every smile and tear. They know that you laugh and cry and tire out like every other person. They know this, and yet they are still there every week. You may do those lives for them, Chan, but they join those lives for you.” Chan let her words sink in, his heart overflowing with love for his fans. They were the reason he was where he was, doing what he loved with the people he loved. His family, the one he got to choose. His home away from home. But with the joy came another cloud of doubt, and then he was frowning once more.

“What makes me so special? I’m just another kid with some stories to tell. There are hundreds – thousands – of others who could do what I do. What makes me so deserving of their love and time and blind dedication?”

“Because you have earned their loyalty. You put in the time to be there for them, to remind them how precious and loved they are when the world around them made them feel like nothing. The world sees their differences as defects and flaws, but you see them as stars and gold. Love isn’t something you need to work for or earn, it just happens, but loyalty? If you have that, they’ll be there. Throughout every little hiccup in life.”

Chan stared back at her. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Giving advice is easy, like loving. Its receiving and taking advice that is difficult. And like being loved, it gets harder the more you’ve been hurt.” Sakura pulled at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, so much so that the cuffs hung loosely over her fingertips.

“Can I ask you something?” Sakura looked over at him, taking in the sight of his flushed face and dark eyes.

“Anything,” she responded honestly.

“Why Korea?” Chan asked her. “When you decided to leave home, what made you choose Korea? I’m sure you could have gone anywhere.”

She thought for a moment. “Seoul is familiar. It’s not home, but its close enough to home that returning would be easy. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to travel. There’s just so much that I want to see, and so many places I want to explore, that I don’t think I would have wanted to go back home after seeing it all.”

Interested, Chan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “What things would you want to see? If you had no restrictions and no boundaries – no limit – what would you want to see?”

“I want to see the Northern Light,” she said with a pensive gaze focused on something outside. The left corner of her mouth pulled up as her head tilted to lean against the cool glass. “The Acropolis of Athens. Mont-Saint-Michel. The Great Barrier Reef. Lake Como. I want to see Cappadocia from a hot air balloon so colourful it hurts my eyes, and hike in forests straight out of a fantasy film. Oh, and I have to see a real sunfish, and…”

In the rush of her dreams, Sakura failed to notice the besotted look on the man’s face as he stared at her. He took in every word, absorbing every syllable, drinking in every sound that fell from her mouth like a man dying of thirst. And he remembered his own dreams. How the 13-year-old trainee would dream of his debut. Of winning his first award, for an album he put his entire soul into. Of performing on a stage so big that it made their group of eight look tiny. Of a dark sea lit up by lights like the night sky at back home. His dreams accumulated over those seven years, growing bolder even after his debut. And one day, he realized that he had almost reached the end of his once infinite list of dreams. But Sakura had yet to accomplish all of her dreams. And Chan couldn’t help but feel excited for her to fulfil them, whenever it may be.

“I hope all of your dreams come true, petal.”

She smiled back at him and said, “Thank you, Chan. But in the end, I’m okay even if they don’t. Sometimes it’s nice to just have the dream, something to give you hope. In the reality of things, some dreams just don’t come true.” The contentment in her eyes began to waver. Chan frowned at the sudden dip in her mood.

“Your sky seems a little heavy,” He stated, thinking back to that night in his room. With his head tilted to one side, and without looking away, he opened his arms widely. “Will you let me hold you?”

The girl arched an eyebrow. “Was that one of your pick-up lines?”

Chan shrugged. “I modified it to fit the conversation.”

“I think you mean ‘will you let me hold it’.”

“I know what I said, Sakura.”

Sakura wanted to say no. She wanted to stay where she was, where she could see every flicker of emotion in his brown eyes. At a safe enough distance to help him, but not too close that she could be pulled deeper into his warmth. It was too risky, too dangerous. But maybe…maybe that’s what she wanted. Just for one night. For them to just be a girl and a boy, comforted by each other’s embrace.

So, on shaky limbs, she crawled over to him. When she was close enough to his long stretched out legs, she turned around. Two arms found their way around her waist almost instantly, wasting no time in tugging her back until she was seated between his legs with her back resting flush against his chest. Sakura couldn’t help the content smile that formed on her face. He smelled like rain. Sakura loved the rain. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into her skin right through her clothing, into her bloodstream and straight to her frenzied heart. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into his warmth.

And he received her with an open heart. One hand lifted to carefully shift her head into the nook beneath his chin, and he immediately felt her body curl into his own. His arms tightened around her protectively.

“Just until the rain stops,” Sakura whispered, a yawn chasing her words.

“Of course, petal. Just until the rain stops.”

And for the first time, Chan prayed that the storm would never end.

[nocturnalswarehouse]

Chapter 25 - Mercer's Demise

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild's reputation.

Masterlist

CONTENT WARNINGS: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, character death

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1, 650

A/N: Hello friends! I had an exam on Wednesday and I had to study so I could at least pass the damn thing (jury's out on that), so I forgot to post a chapter. Here it is! I'm sure you can guess what happens from the chapter title, but this is a very exciting part for me. Idk I'm just very satisfied with how Adi decided to do things. Five more chapters left to publish after this one and I will be fully finished a novel fic for the first time in my life! Hope you enjoy it :)

“For thieves, I would’ve thought the two of you would be quieter.” 

Karliah was tired and done with the couple she had with her. They were the best at what they did, but after their night in Candlehearth? It seemed as though everyone in the building had heard them. Once alone, the two of them were loud. The Dunmer wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that they didn’t seem to care.

“You can’t hold back passion, lass.” Brynjolf dodged Adi’s attempt at punching him in the ribs. 

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” Adi asked, gesturing to the ruins ahead of them. “We have a mission to take care of.” 

Karliah had sauntered up to them in the morning and, instead of saying good morning, led with how loud they were in bed. The teasing - with the light air of tired annoyance - was endless as they mounted their respective horses and rode to Irkngthand, stopping a few meters away when they noticed a group of bandits. Adi was, quite frankly, getting irritated with the teasing, especially when their focus should be on Mercer. 

“Have any ideas for getting past the bandits, then?” Karliah asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, the entrance seemed to be above,” Adi pointed to a little alcove at the very top. “We could either sneak past them and take prolonged invisibility potions. Or we can fight them head-on. Your choice.” 

“Potion.” The Dunmer barely hesitated. While she was a great fighter, it seemed like the bandits being there was a waste of time. She suspected Mercer hired them to guard the place and stall his enemies as they went after him. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he did that to toy with the Nightingales, wanting them to follow him into the depth of the ruin. 

Adi handed Karliah and Brynjolf a potion each and shot the hardest bandits to sneak around with ease as they made their way to the door. The climb wasn’t difficult, although a few ramps were beginning to decay, and it took them no time to get through it. Once inside, they saw two bandits lying on the floor near a small fire. 

“Dead,” Adi said after checking their pulse. “Still warm, and blood is still fresh. It was recent.”

“Mercer’s doing.” Karliah spat. “Let’s go. He can’t be too far.” 

They made their way through the halls of the ruins. Everything looked familiar to Adi, particularly the spiders and centurions they faced on the way. They didn’t take long to reach a door that led deeper into the ruins and find Mercer Frey killing Falmer, who was attacking him. 

“Wait a moment... what's that?” Karliah leaned forward, peering between the fence. “It's Mercer! Look... down there!”

“I'm on it, lass.” Brynjolf took out a lockpick and looked for a lock, cursing when he realized there was no gate. “Damn it! There's no way through.”

He's toying with us. He wants us to follow.”

“Aye, lass... and we'll be ready for him. Let's keep moving.” 

They travelled down the hall and opened a door, leading them into the area they saw Mercer. Brynjolf commented on the size, and Adi smiled to herself. She had been in places larger, although not as quiet. Blackreach came to mind, and the Dragonborn shuddered at the thought of it. That place was awful and wasn’t worth the trip, no matter how important. 

From a distance, all three Nightingales hid and shot the Falmer at once. They dropped like flies, allowing them to work on the puzzle that would allow the gate to open without interruption. Adi spotted three levers, figuring only two would be the key. After getting Brynjolf to stand at one, they pulled each lever one after the other and watched as the gears turned and the spikes sunk to the floor.

What met them on the other side were Falmer and their tents. The three of them cut each enemy down with ease, not getting much of a break as more charged at them as they made their way through the maze. 

In the next room, they met with Falmer guarding a massive Dwarven Centurion. Brynjolf let Adi decide what they would do, and the assassin chose to kill each Falmer and sneak past the Centurion quietly. She had enough experience to know there was little chance of surviving that battle. The last thing any of them needed was for Mercer to gloat that he won against the Guild on a technicality. 

They continued into the Falmer hive, staying silent and killing from afar to not grab their attention. Chaurus were also there, much harder to hide from and fighting against them took more attention. Adi could dodge each strike, but Karliah and Brynjolf had gotten scratched several times. Adi took a second to heal them before either could contract rattles. 

Finally, after what felt like an entire day, they made it into the final room. Mercer was on the statue's head, carving out the right eye. 

“He's here, and he hasn't seen us yet. Adi, watch the door.” Karliah whispered. Adi moved closer to the door, keeping guard. If Mercer were to run, he’d have to go through her first. “Brynjolf, Climb down that ledge and see if you can…-”

“Karliah, when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?” Mercer had since turned around. He raised his hand and used a spell that caused the place to shake. Where Brynjolf stood, the area broke off and caused him to fall. Adi rushed forward, worried, and once she saw that the Nord was okay relaxed only slightly. 

“At long last, I can finish what I started,” Mercer smirked, making his way toward Brynjolf. “When you brought Adi before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. I thought she would be the opponent at the end of my blade, but this will be a much sweeter victory.”

“Give me the key, Mercer,” Brynjolf ignored the Breton’s taunt. He kept his dagger sheathed and back straight. The last thing he wanted to do was fight Mercer, and even though it seemed like the Breton would attack at any given point, he hoped he wouldn’t. 

“What's Karliah been filling your head with?” Mercer snorted. “Tales of thieves with honour? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key or anything having to do with the Guild.” 

“It's not about Nocturnal. This is personal.” Brynjolf was not religious and didn’t even want to worship the Daedra. He hoped there was a way out of the contract with Nocturnal. But right now? His focus was purely on Mercer and revenge for everything the Breton had done. Not just to him, but to Karliah, to Adi, and to the Guild. 

 “Revenge, is it?” Mercer almost laughed.  “Have you learned nothing from your upbringing? When will you open your eyes and realize how little my actions differ from yours? Both of us lie, cheat and steal to further our own end.”

With another burst of power from the key, Mercer turned his attention to the women stuck above him. “Karliah, I'll deal with you after I rid myself of your irksome companions. In the meantime, perhaps you and Adranelle should get better acquainted.” 

“What's... what's happening... I can't stop myself.” Adi fought her body as it began to try and attack Karliah. 

“Damn you, Mercer!” The Dunmer sneered at him. “Fight it, Adi... he's taken control of you!”

Adi tried to hold back as she attacked Karliah, unable to fight off the spell's effects. “I can’t…-”

As Adi and Karliah tried to break her out of the frenzy, Brynjolf and Mercer had their own battle. Brynjolf had the upper hand at first, backing Mercer into a corner. He brandished his daggers, ready to stab them in Mercer’s gut when he disappeared. 

Brynjolf straightened, on high alert. He looked around, trying to find an outline distorting the surroundings. Unfortunately, he was still caught off guard as Mercer snuck behind him and struck the middle of his back with his fist. Falling into the rising water below, Brynjolf realized Mercer had gained strength - likely from the key's effects - and would be practically unbeatable at this stage. Still, the Nord fought with determination. He wasn’t going down without a fight. 

Mercer had the upper hand, and he knew it. While his foe had clearly improved in the past few months, he was still weak. Clouded by the Guild's idealists and by society's rules. Brynjolf was never meant to win this fight, and neither was Adranelle. The winner was always Mercer, and nothing could change that. 

“I don’t think so,” Adi growled from behind Mercer. She broke away from the spell when she noticed Mercer get an advantage and attack Brynjolf so quickly that her partner collapsed on the ground, nearing a blackout. When Mercer walked up to his body, readying his blade and making one final speech before stabbing Brynjolf, Adi had made her way behind the Breton, ready to bring him to his death. 

“How did you-”

Without another word, Adi grabbed his armour and threw him against the stone wall. Mercer’s back broke with a loud crunch, and his body crumbled onto the steps below him. He groaned in pain, the Dragonborn dissatisfied with him still being alive, and tried to plead with Adi for mercy. She leaned down and took Gallus’ sword from its sheath. She leaned down to his ear, hissing two words before ending his life, “Hail Sithis.” 

Without hesitation, Adi thrust the blade into his stomach and turned it thrice as he had done with her. As she pulled it out and cleaned the blade of his blood with the water surrounding them, his body glowed green and red from the enchantments, and his eyes glasses over. 

Mercer had died by Adi’s hand.

[mochie85]

Creature Comforts - Chapter 6

Creature Comforts Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Loki is enamored by you, and you can’t understand why. He tries to get your attention until a disastrous accident occurs pushing you to rely on him. Will his charm finally win you over? Or will you continue to stay in your comfort zone? A/N: I know I said that this would be the last chapter, but it got too long. So I split it up. There will be at least one more to go. Also, I added people to the tag list that didn't really request to be on it. So, if you'd like to be removed, please let me know. I didn't mean to overstep my bounds. On the flip side, if you'd like to be added to my tag list for this or any future work, please don't hesitate to let me know. Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Action/fight sequence, blood, cursing, knives, pointy objects.

“Get your fucking hands off of her!” Loki yelled at him. A flash of green smoke started to emanate from his body.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Said the familiar voice next to you as he pulled his ski mask off.

“Chris!” You yelled in disgust. “Let me go!” You tried to pull your hair away but your feet kept slipping. You didn’t have enough strength to pull yourself out of his grasp. You tried grabbing his arms, his wrist, to claw your way free, but he was covered with his leather jacket and gloves.

“Back up.” He commanded Loki. When Loki didn’t relent he repeated himself. “Back up! Now loverboy.”

“I should’ve broken that hand when I had the chance,” Loki growled, stepping back.

Chris pulled on your hair tighter. “Don’t think of doing anything funny. Don’t even try to call that virtual assistant!” He said as his knife slid close to your back. “I can think of a hundred different ways to stab her and make sure she never walks again.”

“Why are you doing this Chris?” You barked.

“I’m sorry cupcake. I was supposed to stay the entire month, possibly longer. Make you take me back. I needed time. I needed the money.”

“I made sure you got your pay.” You grunted.

“No. Not that trifle of an allowance. I was hired to retrieve something you stole. Imagine to my surprise that my security clearance still works.” So that’s why the alarms haven’t been raised. That’s why he was still able to get in.

“Who are you working for?” Loki asked as he eyed the sharp blade against your back. It drew a thin line of red from where it scraped against your skin. Would he be able to get to you in time before Chris drove that blade in deep?

“You and your friends intercepted a shipment of soldier serum bound to Mr. Fisk. He offered to bail me and my practice out of debt if I found and retrieved it.”

You remembered the mission you went on months ago. Steve and Tony just came back with reports of the serum being sold from Madripoor. You, Sam, and Bucky went to retrieve it.

That was before the explosion in the lab. That was when Loki had just started to make his way into your life. His boldness. His shameless flirting always getting you flustered. You tried to harness his energy now. His bravado.

“Fat chance of that ever happening. Especially now.” You snorted. Chris dug the knife slightly into you, piercing your skin just behind your ribs. You yelled at the sudden pain. His hands came over your mouth, stifling your cries for help. His grip over your mouth was strong. It was crushing and nearly suffocated you, blocking the entrance of your nostrils. You knew you were weak, but this was…extra. Almost like he was a super soldier.

Your eyes grew wide with dread and understanding. Loki summed it up as pain and fear.

“Alright. Alright. Stop!” Loki yelled.

“Was I interrupting something?” Chris asked. “It looked like you were on your knees begging.” He said to Loki. “A little lover’s quarrel, perhaps? Always making a scene, eh cupcake? Making us both kneel before you. To be at your service.” You snarled at the comment.

Loki laughed as he paced in front of you, keeping his distance for your safety. As he walked, his armor materialized on him. The smoke of green and gold evaporated into cool dark leathers. The golden metals of his bracers and breastplate now tarnished from countless battles.

“Do not flatter yourself. You were being paid to be on your knees. To help her recover. I knelt freely before her without her having to ask. You and I are not the same.” Loki ground out.

“Doesn’t matter. Where are they? Where’s the serum?” Chris yelled in your ear.

“Let her go and perhaps I’ll show you.” Loki said persuasively. “I might even show you Tony’s private wine cellar. There are a couple of bottles in there you could easily barter for a hefty sum.”

“I don’t need you. I have her. She’ll show me where she hid it, then I’ll take her as assurance that you would let me walk out of here unharmed.” Chris sneered. His grip on you getting tighter.

“You’re right. I’d sooner throw you off the balcony than let you live after the way you’re treating her.” Loki threatened back.

Even as an Avenger, Chris still has the audacity to think you’re weak and unable to do anything. The damsel in distress. He would always see you as that pathetic loner who was clingy.

He underestimated the fact that you would sacrifice your life just so he wouldn’t have access to that serum. With you gone, Loki would be free to attack him. He wouldn’t need to worry about you.

You bit his gloved finger hard. You’re pretty sure it didn’t break his skin but you surprised him enough for him to yell in pain. “Ah! Stupid bitch!” His dagger came up to your neck this time, threatening to slit your throat.

All Loki could see was red-hot rage as he crossed the short distance and grab the hand that held the dagger. He squeezed hard. Chris fell to his knees screaming in pain and involuntarily let you go, as well as the dagger.

You fell to your knees, your legs shaking and weak, having stood up for so long.

“Mind how you speak to her.” Loki hissed. Chris punched wildly. Throwing jabs left and right just to be free of Loki’s grasp. Loki dodged them expertly, even with one hand occupied.

One blow did land on Loki’s jaw and he staggered back. Loki looked up surprised. He wasn’t expecting such strength from a mortal.

“Su-super soldier.” You panted out pointing to Chris.

Loki grunted and rolled his eyes, setting his jaw in place. He’s had enough of these soldiers running around. “Everyone thinks they can be Captain Steve Rogers.”

He came up to Chris and a fight ensued. You could hear the soft thuds of fists against leather, as you tried to regain your breath. Chris was thrown halfway across the living room and landed on the television, knocking it down to the floor.

He got up quickly and rammed straight into Loki, pushing him up against the bar. The corner of the counter digging into Loki’s spine. Chris produced another knife. A smaller one but it looked just as deadly. He held it against Loki’s throat, pushing with all his borrowed strength to try and harm the god.

You didn’t have a moment to think. You grabbed the discarded knife that Chris threw earlier on the floor and stood up quickly. Your legs protested. Your muscles felt like they were concrete and the blood flowing through them was tar. You moved as quick as your legs allowed you and focused on your grip. Fingers don’t fail me now.

With small micro cuts, you moved quickly, slashing Chris’ leather jacket into tatters on the floor. With one final swing and a turn of the blade, you stabbed Chris on his right flank.

He yelled in agony as he swung back and smacked you across the room. You flew back and landed on the couch. Chris, in his anger, pursued you.

But not before Loki could grab the handle of the dagger, still sticking out of Chris’ side, and twist it. Chris fell to his knees in aguish. Loki towered over him and gave him a backhanded slap, right across the face. “Unworthy swine,” causing Chris to black out on the floor, unconscious.

You righted yourself up, using the couch to help stabilize you. You saw Loki dragging an unconscious Chris across the living room floor. His side bleeding out onto the plush carpets.

Loki kicked open the balcony doors and continued to drag Chris outside.

“Loki! Loki what are you doing?” you yelled out to him. “Loki!”

You couldn’t feel your legs anymore. They were numb and stiff. You crawled your way towards the balcony using your elbows and arms to pull you through. Small glass shards from the television hid in the long grains of the carpet. Scratching you as you dragged yourself towards the balcony.

Loki picked Chris up by his throat and dangled his body over the railing. Chris’ blood sopping his shirt, dripping down his legs. One last time, legs. Come on. One last time, you thought to yourself.

Chris woke from his lifeless state, only to be surprised that he was dangling ninety-three stories up. He grabbed Loki’s wrist that held him.

“Break my wrist and you fall. Go on. Absolve me of the guilt and verdict of having thrown you to your death!” Loki hissed. Chris sputtered and gagged. He was unable to make a sound, his super soldier strength failing him. “But tell me why I shouldn’t let you fall anyway.” He said in a merciless tone.

Loki’s eyes were vacant and dark. There were no signs of light in them. No mischief. Just pure rage and suffering.

He was tired. He was tired of not getting what he truly wanted. He was tired of fucking everything up. He was tired of hurting the people he loved. He just wanted to crack. Wanted someone else to feel what he felt.

And to him, right now, Chris embodied all that he hated about his life.

You reached Loki’s boot. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself. You pushed up with all your strength and stood up once again next to Loki. Tired and wobbly.

“Loki,” you whispered. You wrapped your arms around him. Hoping to convey that you were next to him. “Don’t do this, my love. You are worth more than this anger. You are more than this moment in time.” His skin had grown cold. His face was pale and had a bluish tint around his prominent cheekbones and temples. You could see his once blue-green eyes turn a deep shade of red.

You lifted your fingers and soothed out the crease in between his brows. You cupped his cheek and ran your thumb across his lips.

“Come back to me, Loki.” You hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist, under his long cloak. You nestled your head against the crook of his neck.

“Somewhere on the other side of this wide night And the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon.”

You held on tighter. Nuzzling his neck, smelling his cologne. You drowned out the whimpers that Chris was making behind you and focused on Loki’s ragged breathing. You placed your lips on his neck and spoke the words on his skin.

“This is pleasurable. Or should I cross that out and say That it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing An impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.”

“La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine The dark hills I would have to cross To reach you. For I am in love with you and this Is what it is like, or what it is like in words.”

You whispered the poem to him. Hoping it’ll reach him the way it reached out to you when you were under. Chris yelled and screamed, hanging on by the mercy of an angry god.

Slowly, you could see Loki’s eyes return to their blue-green. Sparkling and clear. He staggered a few breaths as he realized what he was doing. His grip on Chris’s throat got tighter, but only to make sure he didn’t drop him as he moved him back onto the balcony.

Chris’ wound opened up more. He clasped his side to stop the bleeding.

“Darling. A-Are you alright?” Loki asked cupping your cheeks. His hands roamed your arms and your shoulders, checking for any signs of injuries. The salt of his skin stinging the tiny cuts around your arms.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You wrapped your arms around him and collapsed.

⬅️Chapter 5 | Chapter 7➡️

Taglist: @a-lonely-gray-couch @albinotigerpython @annesunlight @anonymousfiction211 @asgardianprincess1050 @chickencouncilrep @daggers-and-mischief @daintinessiskey @fire-in-her-veinz @froggybitchh @gigglingtigger @hoff-mommy @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @ilivedonceinthisworld @immersed-in-mischief @jmehp @kellatron55 @kittiowolf210 @klaushargreeves420 @kxthxrinx0310 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokidbadguy @lokiestorch @lokixryss @lonadane @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @lulubelle814 @luvlady-writes @mcufan72 @midnights-ramblings @mistress-of-words @moonlightreader649 @msturi2u @peachyymallows @pinksparklypen @salempoe @sititran @sonatabee @theotherspiderlady @vera-of-asgard @wolfsmom1 @yoongissidebitchh @lokiprompts @lokiprompts21 @lokisninerealms @lokisgoodgirl @lokisgoodgirlbackup @alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @user13cabs @one-oblivious-nerd @crimson25 @nopenottodayson

[lokisasgardianvampirequeen]

To Those Who Time Forgot

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Vampire!Female Reader, Sam Wilson

Words: 1286

Warning(s): Violence, Swearing, Eventual Smut

A/N: All characters are property of Marvel I’m just borrowing them. Please do not use or repost my work elsewhere. Much love and I hope you enjoy!!!! Reblogs are immensely appreciated ❤️

Chapter One

It was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance mission. A way to collect more intel on the remaining rogue factions of flag smashers. Sam sat on the outskirts of some shipping containers in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse, while Bucky perched on the roof, looked in through the skylight. "I thought you said this was going a simple, quiet in and out mission Sam!" Bucky whispered in annoyance through the comms. "Well clearly Torres was mistaken ok, shit happens Terminator" Sam scoffed back in disbelief. "Now shut up before you give away your position. I'm sending redwing in to get a closer look now." Bucky rolled his eyes at his team mate. "Yeah, let's ignore the super assassin who has doing this since before you were in pampers birdman, that'll end well." Redwing subtly entered though a broken window and hovered in the air of warehouse as Bucky leaned in further to get a better vantage point. Already annoyed at the crappy intel Bucky steeled himself for an even shittier mission.

A woman is dragged into the centre of the warehouse, chained up with a bag over her head. "Look what we found boss" said one of the thugs matter-of-factly. "Poor thing snooping around here and she barely put up a fight!" Laughter echoed around the room. She estimated approximately 15 people, maybe 20 men inside the warehouse with her. She was sat down in chair while her chains were hooked up to rings on each side of the floor.

"Sam, we have a problem!"

"Yeah, yeah I know I can see that, tin man. What's the plan?"

"What's the plan!? What the fuck do you mean what's the plan. I should go in rescue the woman, I have a vibranium arm, I can take em."

"Yeah and I'm the Cap, I have the sheild. But it's still you and me versus 20 possible super soldiers! We need something better than just rushing in guns ablazing bullshit"

"Well if you have any other ideas now is a great fucking time, Cap!"

The boss strolled across to the woman and sharply ripped the bag off her head. With your vision coming back into focus you quickly glanced around the room, a small sinister smirk playing on your face. "What the fuck are you smiling at you twisted bitch. You have no idea who you fucked with sweetheart" said the boss, while a chorus of softly uttered "Hail Hydra" permiated the warehouse. Another goon crossed the room with a pipe and handed it to the boss.

"I'm gunna wipe that smile off your face, then I'm going to pass you around to all men, and if your lucky we'll only kill you afterward and not keep you around on a leash as our pet" the boss stated. You laughed sardonically and before you knew it the pipe was being shoved roughly into your ribs and then smashed across your face. Well that's about enough of this, you thought yanking the chains free from the floor. You used the chain to snap the bosses neck. Removing them completely as soon as you landed back on your feet. As shocked as the goons were but the deftness of your actions, they one by one began to come at you. After all to them you were just a helpless woman, you had barely put up a fight when taken after all. To your left you noticed a table with throwing knives and other blades. You swiftly made your way over to the table retrieving a serrated hunting knife.

You turned around and were picked up into the air by your neck. You quickly used your momentum to wrap your legs around the thugs neck and with a quick jerk, it snapped. Gracefully you began fighting your way through the berage of angry men. All who under estimated your strength and skill.

Seeing the fight ensue and with no better plan Bucky leaned on the glass of the skylight to get up and make his way into the fray of violence. He was quickly halted as it shattered giving way causing him to fall onto the floor below. Groaning, Sam swore under his breath and broke cover running in the direction of the warehouse.

For a brief moment you lost focus, earning a couple of bullet wounds to the stomach, looking incredulously to the man rising out sea of shards, meeting the gaze of his cerulean eyes. You could already feel the blood seeping from the bullet wounds and could not afford to be further distracted. You jumped and flung yourself across to the gunman sinking your teeth into his neck. With a little bit of blood in you the bullets pushed their way out as your skin knitted back together. You sunk your fangs in further still and proceed to rip the jugular of the gunman's throat throwing him hastily to the ground.

From behind you can hear the man who fell through the roof fighting and yelling "Anytime now Sam." With that a circular projectile made its way around the room hitting some of the remaining men, narrowing missing you in the process. You decided to ignore the further intrusion as you punched, stabbed, bit and kicked your way through more men. It was only when the fighting subsided that the three strangers stopped to look at one another.

You stood and squared up facing the two unknown men, unsure of both them and their intentions. Mentally you prepared for a further fight. Now standing beside one another the one man spoke, he was holding a sheild which you now recognized as the earlier projectile. "Hi I'm Sam, this is Bucky, we we're going to save you but it looks like you didn't need our help, at least not that much" he chuckled. You eyed them warily, annoyed they posed to be yet another obstacle in what you came here to do. When you didn't answer the man spoke again. "How did you end up here and what's your name?" Sam queried.

Movement flickered and you watched as the one named Bucky made his way to the bosses desk. You needed this Intel, this was your mission. Retribution for the things you suffered at the hands of Hydra. Faster then the men could blink, you ran past Bucky and grabbed the computer and papers off the desk. You then launched yourself into the air jumping over both Bucky and Sam to the exit of the warehouse. Both men ran in your direction stopping just short of you.

Finally Bucky spoke " Look we don't want to fight you and we aren't here to hurt you but we can't let you leave with that information" he said nodding at your hands.

"I'm not giving you the choice" you snapped back at him. You look at them both and called on your power. "You will stay here for 20 minutes" you spoke. The men, now baffled, looked at each other, then back at your fleeing form as you left the warehouse. Both of them getting to the exit and neither of them being able to physically make themselves open the door.

"Shit, what just happened. I swear to god if she is one of the big three."

"She's not an android, alien or wizard Sam! She's.... she's..." Bucky stuttered at a loss for words. "She's something else entirely."

"What the fuck does that mean Buck!?"

"I'm not sure. She's not like anything or anyone we've ever come across. I'm not even sure she's alive...."

"WHAT!!!! You don't know, YOU DON'T KNOW!!!" Sam shouted.

"You know what, screw you Wilson. I'M NOT THE EXPERT AUTHORITY ON ALL THINGS FUCKED UP FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!" Bucky spat back pissed off.

<Prologue

Chapter Two>