#first person to be negative about the above will be shot on sight

[transprince]

In my heart, cronus has hella acne scarring on his face

[canihaveacalmtime]

You met a boy back at secondary, you remember he was around your height at the time, heck he was also looking as depressed as you now but we'll get back to that later.

You remember he was being bullied by the popular groups around the school because he looked like a freak that always studies and read books. Though, you saw him as a normal human, not as how he dressed up and on the other hand, you were also a coward at the time so you could only chose to help him after the bullies had gone.

By the last year of secondary, the boy changed into an intirely different person and actually listened to what you suggested him to wear, what type of hair fits him and how he should make his appearance more attractive to others. You really enjoyed the last year with him and not have to worry about those bullies anymore. For him, he thinks that even after this year, you and him can still be friends for the next many years but for you, this is the last year that you will live here as so many things had happened with your family life that forced you to move back to the countryside, you don't even know when you'll move back to the city but seeing you friend looking so happy right now, you didn't even had the courage to tell him anything about your leaving.

But the day he found out about you leaving, it was already too late. As he hold the letter in his hand, trying hard to not tear it apart, a part inside him begin to develop an obsession to get you back, to make you come back and to have you back in his arms again.

.

.

.

You eventually returned back to the busy city streets after 6 years long and for the next 2 years, you've been working under a CEO's assistant so consider that, your rank is just right above the servants and under everyone else.

But more over, you knew who your CEO was the moment you met him for the first time or is it really the first time for you? But to be honest, you didn't knew the boy that's just around your height back then, shy and timid can grow up to become such a man that sits above every one else.

Of course, he doesn't recognized you, you've changed too much either in a good or bad way, it's so hard to say you back then and now are the same but especially, you didn't actually want him to recognize you. You basically left him in the cruelest way possible a friend could do so you can't imagine how horrible of a life he could give you if he finds out about your old identity.

Unfortunately for you, the CEO's second in command one day asked for all the workers' profile to be recheck and your 'friend' learned about who you really are but as a calculate person, he chose to observe first before proceeding any actions. As the more he observed, the more negative details he saw like how you always look sleep deprived and have a habit of hugging your head during a chaotic events like monthly worker training or party arrangements, all of those reminds him so much of his old self.

He tried to approach you, to help you like how you help him back then but a coward will always be a coward as you always intentionally avoid him. The moment you see him in your sight, you act like someone has called you or just simply turn around and walk somewhere else.

.

.

.

The avoiding went on for a long while until one night, you were ordered to come into his office for a talk but when you arrived, the scene in front of you made you frozen in place and not even dare to move an inch.

On the floor was his old bullies, tied up and continuously begging for mercy while your boss, the CEO, just standing there menacingly with his favorite gun in his hand. You hsve seen him using it in the practice ground countless times and even familiar with whenever he use it on someone but that is just hearing from the outside not witnessing it like this.

Before you can react, one of them was shot in the head and was now on the ground. One by one, they fall down upon the CEO's bullets begin shot and the moment the last one was shot, you immediately book it out of there only to eat a bullet straight at your left leg before you can even reach the doorknob and fall down onto the wood floor.

What shock you more was that he still remembered when you told him about how your left leg is much weaker than the other one and is now using your own weakness against you.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have said anything important about you to me."

His leather shoes clanking on the floor as he slowly walk over to you laying on the floor, who is hugging their head trying to figure out what had just happened seconds ago.

"Seeing you laying there so helpless and in pain really make me both satisfied as a revenge and sad but it has to be done, right? Can't have you keep on running away from me forever."

Your vision begins to fade away as he pick up your body in a bridal style and the last thing you feel before completely falling asleep was a kiss placed on your forehead in a very tender way.

"Sweet dreams, the light of my life."

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

I know I barely uploads anything often but as my #1 excuse: life is hard 😔

[str4ng3rdanger]

I'd love to hear more about the lighthouse au, even if it's just little tidbits and headcanons

okay so since this au isn't as developed as others i will go over a big thing and if i think of anything else to add then i will after

so i imagine that wash pleaded to caboose to help him of all people to get maine out the water after grif comments from on the ledge about seeing thrashing in the water below (because it pains wash to have to think about maine struggling to not freeze and drown in an arctic ocean like christ man) and he knows caboose is one of the more simple and sympathetic of the bunch, and it works.

with a strong grappling hook (considering they are by a base of sorts/if they were told to find power sources there may have been other equipment around), caboose keeps hold of it while wash retrieves maine, who initially struggles until realizing that this is his only way to. not die. and once he is back up, he is finally brought to a point of injury (stabbed, shot, nearby drowned, winded, and probably close to receiving some negative effects of the cold) where he can't exactly retaliate any further, and so the reds and blues manage to tell the personnel who show up that maine died and they wanted to personally deal with his remains when really bro is tired and they're getting him out of there. then they go back to valhalla and the character development begins!!

after all, maine has to either backstab the very guys that could have left him for dead with no clear ai in any feasibly easy sight, or he could take advantage of the fact that he is currently out of wherever he was before and has the vague support of the people around him. so, he decides to try and cope with literally everything going on - he has been doing nothing but chasing down things and killing for the past long while, and he is still trying to get used to not having other voices in his head directing him. i imagine caboose is the first one he befriends because he is entertaining and maine doesn't have to so much of anything to get caboose to talk about something random and fun. this leads to tucker taking the time to randomly stumble on a conversation (which are entirely one-sided since maine doesn't talk) and starts adding to it which leads to tucker becoming something of a friend to maine, and then tucker and caboose plan a thing to get maine and wash to talk to each other because even though wash had come up with the plan to save maine, i imagine they had avoided each other since making sure that maine was alright. they reconcile and things are pretty light-hearted for a while.

they antagonize the reds, which leads to red team getting used to maine as well, and all of them start to bond really well by the time carolina finds them.

now THAT, i imagine, goes very interestingly......but the post is long enough for now!

little side things:

considering doc was at valhalla when they got back, i imagine he had to help maine. wash probably stayed by maine's side until he regained consciousness (as he passed out on the way back to valhalla)

caboose loves to tell stories about church to maine, and encourages him on the fact that "church will forgive you when we see him again" when it comes to the fact that maine was hunting him down (and is indirectly why church went into the memory unit). maine probably wasn't handling such topics well initially, but caboose actually helped him get better at handling any subjects related to ai.

in addition to the above, caboose has had a lot of ai in his head before - he probably was able to somewhat bond with maine over this. maine likes to imagine caboose's perspective with it and sees him in a sense that there is hope for himself, too, even if their experiences with a lot of ai were drastically varying. (caboose has technically had 3 in his head at once though, in the form of alpha, beta, and omega during bgc)

grif keeps trying to steal maine's brute shot (weapon) back, and so whenever the blues kick their asses and whatnot, it is usually what they make the reds surrender.

lopez and maine get along surprisingly well, mainly because maine doesn't say dumb shit and can't interpret lopez poorly or something, and maine thinks lopez is funny so he'll listen to him rant about the reds and blues and might not even know what he's saying but pays attention so lopez appreciates it.

doc says he forgives maine but is passive aggressive for a brief period before warming up to maine being around, which is. pretty fair. doc has definitely asked "did o'malley talk about me??" and he maine just. grunted quietly in response. doc decided that it was up to interpretation.

i love this au it is so funny and charming to think about 💕

[sillystargirll]

The World We Knew ~ Part 4

Links: part 1 part 2 part 3

cw: swearing lots of it !

The car comes to a stop I look out Ghost's window and see we arrived at some hillbilly farm on the outskirts of the forest, probably this is where he ran after we pursued him in the pueblo he was hiding like a coward.

“Graves, negative on Hassan! It’s a dry hole!” 

“ Multiple vehicles approaching from the south.” A Shadow communicates, sounding like one of the numerous operators keeping an eye on you all. You could see a faint plane in the sky through the dense, green clouds if you looked up. It was both amazing and unsettling sense if you saw it, the enemies could all so see it.

Hiding for cover in an old shack building, A shadow radio ghost but my attention is not all there since it was preparing for disappointment if Hassan wasn't in this goddamn hillbily fucking farm I would fucking lose my mind. I just pray this bald-headed fuck is here and we can go back to base, oh how I would kill for a tequila shot right about now.

“Ghost, copy that. I need you out of the building, move north right now!” 

“Go, go!” Ghost gave the order to evacuate the building. You heard the frantic footsteps of Soap and Alejandro not too far behind you as you hurried outside as quickly as you could in the direction of a really enormous tree that was close in a stretch of lush grass fields that were dried and not well taken care of.

“Graves, we’re clear! Drop that fuckin’ building now!” 

Despite being so high in the sky, you rarely saw Shadow Company in action but weren't surprised after all we do need air support, so you weren't really sure what to expect from them. They truly had an impact on the stables. It only needed one big bomb to hit the building's roof for the entire structure to collapse like a house of cards on fire.

If the Mexican cartel had been oblivious of your presence in any way, they were most certainly aware of it by this point.

Around where the stables once stood, pieces of charred wood fell from the sky like confetti, leaving a large crater in the surrounding grass and dirt. It was impossible for any sight to miss the temporary mushroom cloud of thick, dense smoke that covered the sky.

“We’re pushing west to the greenhouse!” Alejandro announced as he directed his gaze toward the following structure, where Hassan might be. You had the impression that if you listened closely enough, you could hear the big plane's propellers miles over your head as it scouted the area in front of it in order to determine where the target may be.

All stations, there’s armed personnel in the greenhouse.”

“Check fire! Hassan could be inside!” Soap alerted into his radio. 

There were additional cartel soldiers inside and around the greenhouse, as you had predicted. The troops who had hurried outside to see the stables being destroyed then started firing in your direction while hiding behind whatever they could find, be it their trucks or thick-lined containers carrying specialized gardening equipment or fertilizer.

“Ghost, keep your men back, we’re fixin’ to engage the greenhouse.”

The enemy huddled close to the small greenhouse as the Shadows above the sky began to fire downward at them. They were relatively small but hefty grenades, bigger than bowling balls, that packed quite a loud, harsh punch and almost completely destroyed the greenhouse. At first, you kind of expected much bigger bombs.

Even further, they attacked the convoys themselves, which some cartel members had been hiding behind in groups. The explosion from a single bomb hitting the trucks' roofs was enough to either throw the cartel back or instantaneously burn them alive.

It didn't take long until you were given the go-ahead to explore the greenhouse's remnants, which, to be honest, might have been easily inspected before to the explosion. This fragile frame and sheer, see-through walls were burned to ashes. Being your own personal opinion, Hassan would have died a long time ago if he had been even somewhat stupid enough to hide in the greenhouse.

From the bodies of those who, thankfully, were still alive, barely hanging to the threads of their existence, you could hear slight hacking and coughing. It was nearly unpleasant to go through the destroyed mess because you weren't sure if you were stepping on flaming wood, soot-covered steel, or charred bodies.

"Where is this fucker!" Soap stated through his radio I could hear his frustration at this point who wouldn't be pissed

“He has to be in that compound.” Alejandro was sure of it, staring straight ahead towards the promised villa in the far distance.

“Shadow-1, what’s the ETA on that convoy?” I asks Graves. 

“0-7, convoy is six klinks out, advise you step it up and secure exfil .”

Alejandro communicates with Rodolfo while Ghost, using a small black wand he had strapped to his vest, tells Soap to mark the last compound with an IR laser.

A big, well-secured two-story mansion that resembled a castle in this agave farm and was enclosed by tall, bright white walls with subdued red trim was a clear indication that this was the owner's residence.

You weren't really sure if the farm's owner had been killed and the cartel had taken over his villa, but it was more likely that one of the cartel leaders owned it. Alternatively, this agave farm might have belonged to El Sin Nombre themselves, who might have permitted the farmers who were merely doing their jobs to continue so as to maintain appearances.

Before you could advance to the compound door, an RPG badly hits you luckily just your right shoulder, leaving your ears ringing from the close encounter. A piercing whistle then ripped through the sky. More cartel guys had emerged from the compound doors and were moving to take up position next to a big water tower.

Following Alejandro and Soap as swiftly as you could, you abruptly changed your course after hearing instructions for the Shadow company to attack the water tower to cool off.

Your knees crunched beneath damp, green grass and dirt as you swiftly found cover behind some metal crates, avoiding the bullets that started striking where you hid.

"s-shit im hit f-fuck."

"Y/N!" I could see Soap ducking from the raining bullets that fired over us, he crunched next to me and hid behind some metal crates. He Grabs a hold of your arms and helps you off the ground, You are conscious enough to stand on your own with additional support. Bullets punctured the ground around your feet.

Quickly getting hold of your rifle, you rushed ahead to get him behind a suitable cover. The last thing you heard was gunfire erupting from the opened doors of the compound, more cartels rushing out to avenge their fallen comrades.

“Where’d you get hit??” Soap checked your body for wounds as he brought you over to his hiding place, the man exhaling hard as he contained himself, sitting upright on his own.

"Right shoulder, check if the bullet when through or not," He examined your shoulder, there was a spillage of blood something that could be handled so he didn't panic, once coming across the bullet hole he could see where the bullet made its exit.

"It went through" you sighed in relief thank god the bullet didn't stay or else you would have been in so much fucking pain just to get it out. I reach for my rifle and check the magazine for more ammo, to your surprise there wasn't any more.

you feel Soap tap your shoulder, you turn around and see him holding a small roll of bandages to wrap around your shoulder, I give him a small smile and take the bandages to wrap around my shoulder, but before I could I wince in pain, Soap then takes the bandages from my hand and rolls it around my wounded shoulder.

"Thank you"

"no problem, mate."

As soon as the Shadows delivered the final bombs towards the enemies, a heavy blanket of tense silence polluted the air once more, barely enough time for you to hear the chirping of birds slowly fill the silence as they returned to the nearby nature all around. 

“Affirm. Proper air support, mate.” Ghost said through the radio, giving the order out.

“ Roger that, 0-7. Be advised, you’re clear up to the compound, but the gate is blocked at this time.” 

“Copy. Give us a way in, yeah?” 

“ We’ll open the door for you, stand by.” 

Just as was advised, large bombs rained down upon the bright red painted wood gate that blocked you from entering the Villa. 

“Let’s go!” Ghost orders for everyone to get into position, eager to find Hassan dead or alive. dead will do for me since this bald fuck sends us for a wild goose chase which I'm wondering if he takes pride in or enjoyment.

When the back door of the building suddenly bursts open and a black, sleek jeep abruptly pulls off to the side of the road, Rodolfo barely manages to put his foot down on the brake pedal as Ghost quickly takes the lead towards the waiting vehicle. As Soap ran out behind you, pulling a bald, battered man in a filthy leather jacket, you and Alejandro followed behind, pistols up in anticipation of any unseen adversaries.

Particularly in his present condition, Hassan was one ugly son of a bitch. His only remaining protection was a lone cartel soldier holding him behind his back too bad he didn't make it far due to Soap beating the shit out of him for standing in his way which you didn't mind and found it hot.

Alejandro and Soap pursued him as he attempted yet another escape. you run as fast as you can running Alejandro and Soap despite your shoulder being wounded your arm wraps around Hassan's neck using your whole body to swing around him and using your legs to knock him out from under.

Alejandro and Soap watched as you swiftly knocked him out, with astonishment I mean they just got outrun by a Woman it a bit damaged their pride at the moment, but they had bigger problems to deal with this bald-headed fuck and the rucks he caused.

“I am a Quds Force Major! You have no right-!!“ 

“Shut the fuck up!” Soap grunted out in pure irritation while roughly forcing him off the ground and pressing Hassan up against the side of the jeep, the harsh impact silencing him instantly for at least a second or two. 

“You will pay dearly for this.” The man sneered in his native language, but no one would’ve cared less to even listen.

"Yeah, Yeah whatever you say."

“Shove him in the back!” Ghost shouted while opening the Jeep's trunk door. Soap wasted no time in shoving the man inside, using his muscle to push him toward the rear. Ghost slammed the door, shaking the jeep as he hurriedly opened the right back door to enter. As Soap unlocked the door and ushered you inside, he swiftly entered and shut the door before you had a chance to object, leaving you crammed in the middle.

═════════════════

 The atmosphere was set by crickets chirping in the pitch-black desert night, which was soon followed by the faint cry of coyotes. The only lights any of you had to rely on were those left on by the jeeps with such gloomy skies devoid of any stars to be seen.

Several doors banged shut as two men dragged a shackled man in front of them who was still covered in the black cowl.

“On your knees." Hassan was prodded forward by soap as Alejandro swiftly removed the black cloth from his head.

Graves was tweaking the laptop screen to start up a live broadcast while squatting in front of an army green box while no longer wearing his stark black suit.

"Got a clear picture."

Crystal. ” Shepherd replied. 

“All set. ” Laswell confirmed, exhaling smoke from the corner of her lips. 

“Alright, we are live, folks.” Graves rose from the ground, turning around to stalk towards their bound hostage. Hassan watched Graves further approach from the corner of his eye, tilting his head up slightly once he got closer.

“Do you speak Arabic?” He asks.

“No.” Graves shook his head once.

“Farsi?” 

“No.” Graves looked up once he noticed movement from the jeep, your boots crunching under dry sand and pebbles as you began to approach.

“But I’m guessing she can.” 

You stopped next to Graves and knelt down to look at Hassan. You would have been more than happy to smugly defeat him at this game if he were to play some sort of obstinate card and decide to solely speak another language.

Unsurprisingly, He gave you one glance before turning his attention back to Graves, choosing to ignore you instead.

“A woman holding a weapon into war,” He gestured towards your rifle, “Is your country that weak that you hold a shortage of men to fight your battles?”

"Oh shut it, it doesn't matter who's holding the goddamn gun."You crossed your arms slowly. “The bullets still kill the targets. Looks like you speak good English, so let’s get right to it.” 

“Of course,” Hassan replied, an obvious mock in his tone as he glanced at you. “I’ll gladly speak your bastardized Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” 

“Ahh, see…” Graves sounded annoyed quickly, shaking his head at his distasteful words, “We’re really getting off to a bad start here, Hassan.”

“You are talking to a Quds Force Officer.” Hassan stated, albeit proudly with a sneer.

“You’re the commander of a foreign terror organization,” Graves retorted, not willing to put up with any silly antics or formalities.

“I can say the same to you.” Hassan further retorted with an additional dagger in his gaze. 

“What’s your target, ‘Major’ ?” Graves states with a sarcastic etch in his tone.

“What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?” 

“Oh well, wild guess... To nail your ass.” Graves replied with an unamused shrug. 

“So insolent and foul-mouthed. You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire.” 

“Respect? Oh, come on, what you should be focusing on is mercy.” You took a step closer, forcing Hassan to glare up at you, spitting an insult in his native tongue.

“ You insolent whore, you will respect me!” Hassan announced, sitting up off of his knees. Graves quickly intervened, shoving the man back down with a shove to the shoulder. 

"That's a new one," you smirk as You simply stared, showing an amused expression. It was so amusing watching men who had no current power to be talking out of their asses grow so offended in seconds.

"The last person who talked to me like that ended up getting eaten alive by my hounds, I dare you to say it again." Graves looked at you with surprise in his eyes he silently smirked to himself knowing that "his girl" was terrorizing this man, huffing out an audibly impressed huff before remaining close to Hassan, growing more serious once more.

“You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan. If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain.” 

Hassan huffed in amusement at the Commander’s irritable tone. “I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me.” 

“Who’d you get American missiles from?” Soap spoke out, growing fed up with the Major’s smug attitude. 

“I don’t care who they’re from, I wanna know where they're going.” Shepherd interrupted the tense conversation, sounding rather impatient in your own opinion. 

Graves peered about, grasping the armband of his tactical vest, whistling out at the sound when he could muster any remaining patience in his mind. Coyotes howled into the dark night skies.

“Take a look around, Hassan.” He gestured outwards to the darkness. “Now, you can either become part of the food chain,” he lowered himself down a bit, tilting his head, “Or you can start talking.” 

“I’m a hostage here,” Hassan stated as he attempted to rise, immediately getting restrained by Alejandro’s hand on his shoulder. “This is illegal.”

Alejandro scowled down at him and said, "You are a prisoner of war," grasping his shoulder firmly.

"Iran and Mexico are not at war. I haven't broken any laws. He said, making a hand motion for Soap and you, "You men and whore are all law breakers." He even went so far as to turn to face Ghost, who was silently watching from beside the jeep's dark side.

“You and your beloved General Ghorbrani broke every-“

“Do not speak his name, you insolent whore!!” Hassan shouted at Soap, forcibly being held back by Alejandro once more. The topic of his lost general triggered him a lot more than anyone expected, watching the man thrash against his restraints.

he then began to shout in his native language which I didn't care that much because their all the same shouting about how God is gonna punish me for my crimes and send me to hell, well to bad I'm already there.

“I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass!” Shepherd barked his strict demand through the broadcast. 

“General,” Laswell quickly intervened, “Killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him here is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.” 

As soon as he realized the serious situation they were all in, you could only picture the General slouching back in his chair and gripping tightly his hands. You would just kill him personally and be done with it if there were no repercussions to deal with.

“Tell me you’re getting something actionable, Laswell.”

“Working on it. Stand by.” 

In order to quickly retrieve the laptop from the crate and place it on top of the car's hood, Graves abandoned his position in front of Hassan.

Graves started losing his patience, he just wanted to shoot this man and leave his body to rot in deserts let alone with vultures eating the remains of his body.

"Laswell is right, Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us. ”

“He’s right here. You can’t be serious!” Soap quickly approached Graves’s side, staring right into the screen.

“I’m afraid I am, Son. ” 

Immediately, Alejandro pushed the black fabric back over Hassan's head, covering off the smirk on his face. You squinted your eyes down at the "Major," teetering on the brink since you could only see that he was grinning.

"Is that it, then? Are we simply returning him in that manner? You didn't intend for your voice to get that loud, but you really had no choice. Your patience had been tried, broken, and shattered all day and all night from this wild goose chase just for it to end with begin let go. There wasn't anything preventing you from being more reserved.

"That's all we can do; starting another war for the sake of this smug bastard is the last thing we need right now."

a low amused chuckle came from the hooded man that was still down on his knee, oh how bad you wanted to take off that hood and beat the shit out of him till he was all bloody and disfigured so that no one would recognize that motherfucker.

"A whore like you has no place here, just on your knees to please others not to fight men's battle."

Hassan's head was thrown back before he made contact with the ground when your fist made a hard contact with his left temple.

The men in your immediate surroundings all let out audible screams of surprise. Before Hassan's body touched Alejandro's feet, he hastily took a step back, his disbelief clearly visible on his face.

" oi, oi easy girl!" As he walked up to you, Soap instantly opened his arms to you and yelled with a mix of complete amazement and faint amusement. he to admit that was hot watching you sucker punch Hassan.

"Cálmate tranquilla!” Alejandro came around to your side and took a brief, amused look at Hassan's body before noticing the visibly upset expression in your eyes.

"That's enough!" from his position next to the jeep, Ghost roared. His voice stood out indescribably among the others you heard, causing your head to jolt upwards and drawing your focus to him at once.

Everything fell silent all you could hear is the crickets chirping in the distance and the silence, with the moon shining down upon you Graves, comes over to you and places a hand on your shoulder making eye contact with you, this was the last person you wanted to telling you calm down.

"Listen, as much as I wanna shoot this sonva bitch, don’t let him get to your head, understand?” Graves says to you, leaving you staring at him with a death stare.

Your breathing slowed as your shoulders sagged slowly, presumably alleviating the tension. Even though there was still a strong burning in your chest, your brows did soften just a little, giving him the idea that you were calming down.

"Atta girl" Graves pats your shoulder and gives you a small smile. it was warm but you had seen it to much especially when having sex with him.

Alejandro escorted the confused man back to the jeep after picking him up off the ground and confirming that he was awake enough to stand on his own two legs. Despite the unnecessary reaction he saw, he was hoping your attack would cause Hassan to sustain a painful bruise.

Before being taken away, Ghost slowly walked up and put Hassan's phone back in his coat pocket. When he turned to face you, he appeared unconcerned by the way you continued to hold your weapon solidly in your hand.

As you turned and headed in the direction of the closest jeep, Soap could be heard following you closely.

You slid into your seat after opening your door as you watched Soap come around to the open side and give you a worried expression while placing his palm on the inner of the open door.

“You alright, lass?”

"I'm fine"

[lgbtmi]

here is your opportunity to describe your OC willow for all your tumblr followers 2 see! What are the Vibes. Give me 3 fun facts about her if you wish.

i love you so much @ everyone who follows me sorry but you'll have to listen to me rant about my lovely little vampire oc Willow Turing, 12th generation Toreador in Amsterdam <3

okay so the TL;DR above the cut shall be the three fun facts about her, but for those who want to read more info about her, please look under the cut or follow my Willow-specific side blog because I plan to write A LOT more about her in the future <3 <3 

1) Willow’s go-to karaoke song is Hotel California by the Eagles 2) Around Christmas 2020 in game (it’s currently March 5th 2021), Elysium in Amsterdam changed locations, but the Prince at the time had Willow’s Sire in Torpor in the basement. That needed moving. Willow had her kine roommate buy a fake Christmas tree, then used the box it came in to bring her Sire from the old to the new location while dressed as an elf. It went surprisingly smoothly. 3) When everyone was invited to a masquerade ball in a theatre, Willow’s outfit was EXCESSIVE. But also it was appreciated by many. She wore a dress that was black on the outside, red on the inside, and completely inversible. Basically a play on the Queen of Hearts and Queen of Spades. The reveal of the second look was used to give her a good excuse to go snooping around. 

OKAY WHAT ARE THE VIBES? HERE’S A LOT OF INFO ON WILLOW THAT I’VE NEVER REALLY WRITTEN DOWN BUT LIVES RENT FREE IN MY HEAD SO ENJOY (:

Willow’s vibes are immaculate. She’s an South Dakotan in Amsterdam, moved here for university, and never finished her communications degree because she never managed to quite find her footing.  Like she struggled to find housing, and the stress of that added to the work load of her degree really just pushed her to substance abuse... and that just ended up being a bit of a negative spiral she only managed to get out when she met her two best friends / (ex-)roommates. I could go on about so many bonds in there it’s so much words I can tell you.... But eh she first met her Sire one day when she and her two friends were out at a club, and he just drew her attention from across the room. To her, it was basically love at first sight, to him it was a calculated use of Presence. She was just immediately smitten with him, and since he was super hot, her friends were super glad she finally got a shot at happiness!! He helped her get her student visa changed to permanent residency, and he’s the guy who got her a job at his brothel, which Willow was happy to do (until the brothel was blown up but that’s an entirely different can of worms). At the brothel, kine and kindred worked side by side, and after a while Willow was taken on a lovely spa day to get her in Pristine Condition before she was eventually Embraced. She is also probably her Sire’s favourite (or at least was unTIL HE WAS KILLED.) 

anyway for a long time Willow was voted Least Likely to Die in their Coterie Yearbook, then suddenly went to Most Likely to Die, but now certain people have been making horrible decisions so she’s probably back to Least Likely to Die. 

Basically Willow is just really pretty but there’s probably very little coherent thoughts in her head. She’s generally very calculated, but that just means her calculated actions are absolutely unhinged. Stole the white king from the Malkavian Seneschal who has one of her best friend’s blood-bound to him unhinged. She’s viciously loyal to a select few, a pro at fake it till you make it, and even better at fucking around and finding out.  Also she holds Grudges occasionally. Like she’s been mad at her sire’s sire for months for not getting a personal apology. 

I could go on but I have to work tomorrow and it’s late, so once again I may post more content on the blog linked above eventually c:

Willow my Beloved ):

[nikakistos]

The Perfect Closure of EreMika

The title is pure clickbait (as always), there will be lots of tags (as always) and this post will be huge. As always. So, let’s examine and evaluate the perfect conclusion of the most important relationship in Attack on Titan. We will analyze why this is the best conclusion they could have gotten and of course we are going to talk about what their scenes meant for their relationship, their feelings for each other and the themes of the story.

First, let’s ask the question: What was the purpose of this chapter? Ending the fight obviously, but also giving closure to the relationship between Eren and Mikasa. Now, there were 3 questions that needed to be answered in order for the two of them to have closure. 

Why did Eren say to Mikasa that he hated her?

What does Eren feel for Mikasa?

What would have happened if Mikasa had given Eren a different answer back in chapter 123?

Isayama answered all 3 of them in a spectacular way. Let’s see how he did it. The chapter literally starts with Isayama, via Mikasa, setting up the closure. This was achieved by having her wonder if this really was the end for her and Eren. Could it be that their last interaction ever ended with him saying that he hated her? 

Isayama answers that with a big, fat NO.

That’s the purpose of Mikasa’s vision. Mikasa’s vision is not there to introduce us to Alternate Universes or to portray her as a delusional fangirl that can’t cope with reality. It’s purpose is to answer the above 3 questions. And that it does.

Essentially, Mikasa’s vision is a “What if” scenario. If Mikasa had chosen the ideal for her answer back in chapter 123, Eren would have abandoned everything and lived with her. This means that Eren is also in love with her.  He said that he hated Mikasa, because he wanted her to forget him. That’s why he also asked her to throw away the scarf.

Mikasa though, being the truest representation of all major, positive themes in the series says no. She chooses to remember him. That’s essentially the meaning of life. That’s what Armin taught to Zeke back in chapter 137. Memories of everyday life. That’s the meaning of life. Back in Trost, Mikasa said that she couldn’t die, because she wouldn’t be able to remember Eren. Even back then, Mikasa always knew the true meaning of life. 

Afterall, the series heavily criticizes the usage of memory manipulation. Deleting memories or altering them have been methods empoyed by the Royal Family for years, hiding the truth from the people. One of the themes of the Survey Corps is remembering their fallen comrades and carrying on the torch. Mikasa forgetting Eren would be an insult to the themes of the story. As would be if Eren was revealed to have been sending fake memories and dreams to Mikasa out of pity for her. 

Finally, Mikasa decides to kill Eren. Not because he hated her or because he didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Because she had to save the world and because that’s exactly what Eren wanted. Back in chapter 133 Reiner foreshadowed Eren’s desires. He explained that it is very hard for Eren, mentally, to handle the murder of the entire human race. Through Reiner, Isayama reveals that Eren wants someone to end it all for him. That someone was Mikasa. That’s why Mikasa knew where to find Eren. His relieved face when he saw her swinging the blade said it all. That was Eren’s design and Mikasa delivered.

And so, the chapter that starts with Mikasa thinking that the only closure she would get with Eren was the “I’ve always hated you”, ends with the first and the last kiss between the two of them that puts all of her worries to rest.

Is Mikasa delusional?

I’ve seen this being thrown around, so i have to also tackle said point. No, Mikasa is not delusional. This wasn’t a fantasy that only she experienced. This dream of hers is the same dream that Eren had back in chapter 1. Eren experienced the exact same things she did in the dream. We even see him with his titan marks. It is clear as day that they shared these moments.

Also, i have to give credits to Isayama here for his usage of “itterasshai”. The word generally means “Go and come back safely” and is usually said to people leaving the house. For Mikasa, Eren is her home, but she is also home for him, as shown in the RtS arc:

These were the perfect parting words for the two of them. Nothing else could encapsulate their relationship better. Eren of course, won’t come back, but that’s the irony of the word here.

Moving on to the next point, Mikasa’s characterization in this final arc is about her seeing Eren for the person he truly is and stop ignoring his faults. It starts from the Marley arc and it concludes with chapter 123 where she realizes that this was simply part of Eren’s nature.

He always had it in him to become the monster that he became. However, he always had a different side to him. A side that had been shown to her a few times. At first, when he wrapped the scarf around her and later when he asked her “What am i to you”. Finally, it manifested as a desire to live quietly with her in their shared dream. It would contradict her development and characterization in the final arc, to have Mikasa start seeing an incomplete Eren again, after realizing earlier who he really was. Mikasa understood who Eren truly is and she accepted him and continued to love him anyway, even though she didn’t agree with his genocide. 

It is not out of character for Eren to run away with her either. At least not in that instance. The series highlights the moment that he asked Mikasa “What am i to you” as a pivotal one. Sure, under normal circumstances, Eren would have chosen to fight, but we saw him breaking down just moments earlier. The only person that could have saved him was Mikasa. Alas, that wasn’t meant to happen.

In any instance, the biggest indicator that Mikasa is not just a delusional girl who kissed the decapitated head of the man she loved, when he never really loved her in the same way, is Ymir’s face at the end of the chapter.

Ymir, as i have mentioned in previous posts, is a girl who never knew real love during her lifetime. She didn’t understand what she was looking at, when she first say a couple kissing with their friends cheering them on. And after that she was sentenced to a cruel life, with a man who never loved her and only viewed her as a tool. This girl, remembers longinly that scene of the couple kissing for 2000 years. She was waiting for 2000 years to see real love again.

She witnessed that through Eren and Mikasa. In a scene that would have otherwise been painted in a negative light, Ymir’s warm smile at the sight of the final act of love between two people who never got to be together the way they wanted to, clears any and all doubts regarding Eren’s feelings for Mikasa and the latter’s sanity. Eren reciprocates Mikasa’s feelings and he was alive for enough time to kiss her back, before completely fading away. Eren and Mikasa replaced the married couple and Ymir replaced the crowd that was cheering at them from 2000 years ago.

Of course, one might ask, could Eren really kiss her? Didn’t she just take advantage of him? No, he did kiss her. The way the scene was directed, it shows us that the events, which take place in their dream, mirror the events in real life. Just look at Eren’s lips one moment before Mikasa kissed him and compare them to the picture above, where they kiss. They are different.

 Also, you have to remeber that decapitation doesn’t kill immediately and does not immobilize facial muscles. That was the entire reason that Eren and Zeke managed to get the Coordinate. Eren survived long enough from Gabi’s shot to make contact with Zeke. Even his facial expression changes as you can see below:

More importantly, was there really any chance that Ymir would look at Mikasa beheading and kissing Eren, while also smiling in approval, if Mikasa was a delusional girl who was unable to understand Eren’s feelings for her up to the very end? Most of all, do you think she would have allowed him to die, without experiencing real love? She died in such a way and she stayed for 2000 years in the Paths waiting for someone to show her real love. Eren was her benefactor. Would she ever allow him to die in such a way, when she was being mistreated (sexually and in many other ways) by King Fritz? I doubt it. Actually no. I don’t doubt it. I’m sure this is not the way we are meant to interprete the scene.

Eren’s relationship with Mikasa, from the very start, is an allegory for the world of AoT. The world is cruel, but is also very beautiful. Eren’s story with Mikasa starts with him murdering in cold blood her kidnappers (cruelty) and then warmly and gently welcoming her to his family by wrapping a scarf around her (beauty). Their story ends with Mikasa decapitating him (cruelty) and kissing him (beauty).

Eren’s tendency for violence has always been portrayed as going hand in hand with his better side. That side has always been represented by Mikasa. It is only fitting for them to have their most beautiful moment happening almost at the same time as their most cruel one. This is how Isayama juxtaposes this duality:

If we interprete this scene as Mikasa being delusional and Eren not being in love with her we get a very disturbing and creepy scene, between an obsessed, psychosis-suffering girl who can’t understand the feelings of Eren, a genocidal maniac who never had any chance or willingness to live a normal life, even though there are hints of that, and a 2000 year old ghost who just happily smiled at the decapitation and forceful kissing of her emancipator. I am pretty sure this is not the message Isayama wants to send. Not simply, because it is a disservice to Mikasa as a character and to her relationship with Eren, which has been one of the most prominent and consistent part of the series from the very first chapter, but because it is also a huge disrespect to Eren as a character as well. Does anyone really think that Isayama would choose to write Eren’s death like that? Not a single important person in the entire story has gotten such an exit. Not even Floch. Even Zeke, who thought that his father never loved him and only used him as a tool, got to see that his father truly did love him, before finally dying. Of course Eren and Mikasa would get the same treatment.

What i mean to say is that Eren and Mikasa’s closure won’t be recontextualized in a way that will paint their feelings for one another and their relationship in a negative light. If anyone’s expecting that, he/she will be disappointed. Eren and Mikasa were confirmed as a canonical couple in chapter 138.

On the other hand, if anyone’s expecting that this wasn’t their real closure and that they will get an even happier ending, he/she is also coping hard. Eren died here in this chapter. There won’t be a scarf rewrap (i’m here to eat my words if it happens), because Isayama gave the couple a kiss. A kiss that was in the makings ever since chapter 50 dropped. And of course, there is not going to be a baby born to Eren and Mikasa. Like, no way it’s happening. Eren is not coming back to life as that would turnish the series and it’s ending.

In conclusion, Eren’s relationship with Mikasa ended in the same way it started. Violently and Beautifully. Tragically and Happily. They acted on their romantic feelings for each other the very moment they had to part ways forever. This is how Isayama hurts us. The essence of a bittersweet conclusion.

EDIT: EATING MY WORDS AS PROMISED. EREN DID REWRAP MIKASA’S SCARF. HE KEPT HIS PROMISE.

[dragonofthestone]

general mental health related trigger warnings apply.  feel free to include more or exclude those facts / test results that take too much time or don’t apply, you can check out this list for more personality-related quizzes to include!

Putting under cut because this is very long and also cause you know lots of potentially triggering shit so no one has to see it unless they choose to.

quick facts

diagnoses: none, It’s early 1900s even with their advancements at best he’s a ‘clumsy child’ and ‘weird’ or something. Modern (or even going off his mainverse) setting: Adhd and or autistic, ptsd, c-ptsd to definitly if only cause of what happened to his lil bro lab stuff aside, does Insomnia count?? I guess that’s more symptom, anxiety, quite likely depression to an extent. He’s got a lot going on okay. Also like being some where on the Ace/Aro spec probably would have been considered a disorder or something back then so lets throw that it too. triggers: Literally anything to do with doctors, hospitals, heavily medical stuff, anything that reminds him of the lab (Needles are big one), the smell of like antispectic/ that sterile clean smell, Alchemy- when/if used near and especially on him. Nope, nope never again. He will jump back fast and try to distance himself from it. Depending on who it is and how it’s done touch. Can’t stand anything snug around his neck- even his scarf is always, always pretty loose. BLINDFOLDS/anything that completely takes away his sight. Having lost part of his vision losing it all TERRIFIES him. Loud noises- like gun shots (Because heightened senses and animal instincts that keep you on edge are FUN ) positive coping skills: Pfft at best he might open up and talk to a friend but he hates worrying and bothering people soo.... negative coping skills: Trying to just ignore it all and hopes it goes away and just trying to bury it down, When alone and espcially if he hasn’t slept well his mind might spiral a bit (and then tries not to think about that either). Just puts on a smile and tells everyone it’s okay not wanting them to worry. attachment style:  (Personally I’d say somewhere between Avoiding it and perhaps a bit clingy and very protective if he allows himself to get attached) Disorganized / Fearful-Avoidant love language:  (Personal thoughts is all of the above but dependent on the person) Basically all of them-  With the thing he loves the most is simple quality time and physical touch, touch is very very dependent on the person tho. Recieving gifts is his lowest love language which I can agree on he loves being given things but honestly he’d value the persons time more then any gift. Just having them in his life is enough for him. myers briggs / mbti: (Is that that weird letter one always confused me tbh - idk I know it’s one I’ve heard of and don’t think I’ve ever bothered with so)

history exploration

are their diagnoses formal ( via a doctor, therapist, etc. ) or informal ( self diagnosis, a hunch, unrealized, etc. )

At best it’s informal but honestly not all. Look his folks love him and his dad may be a doctor but like.. he’ll be the first to admit he doesn’t know much when it comes to psychology. Considering people think/thought he’s strange enough as it is perhaps it’s for the best- It would also involve Tim opening a massive can of worms he’s all but trying to ignore.

Besides it’s 1914 probably better off without it lest he get thrown in, if you excuse the phrase ‘the loony bin’ and probably have more horrendous test and things done on him only making the trauma worse.

have they ever been treated / medicated?

Nope- besides what ever was done to him like his fellow Chimera/ experiements but I don’t think that counts. And most regualr medicine doesn’t tend to work well with his bizzaro body anyway. Only thing that has somewhat been treated was his father managed to find something that could help with his Insomnia but it’s not perfect and doesn’t always work.

have they ever been hospitalized or treated on an inpatient basis?

Not happening. He’d fight tooth and nail even in a modern setting on going.

how old were they when they first started experiencing / realizing symptoms?

Realizing?? Does knowing that he’s different count?? He’s always known he doesn’t fit in and everyone thinks him... Odd. But uh call it deep denial

do they have a family history of mental illness?

Maybe?? Not that it’d matter for him as he’s not even blood related

how was mental health handled / discussed in the family?

I mean his dad tried to help best he could - although can’t say it was really talked about. Mistakes were definiley made (grandfather sure as hell was no help) even his folks realize there are things perhaps they could have handled better but not for lack of love.

what are their thoughts on mental health / their diagnosis?

Uhh, some combination of aware of it and that people are affected by these things (and he’s pretty open and happy to accept people as they are) but in some amount of denial that HE has these things/ if not fully unaware. Like anythting that happens he just considers his normal and doesn’t question it (and Being at the Nest has made him wonder if maybe he isn’t so weird, different or may have just enforced the idea of he’s weird but has fold people who are just as odd now so that’s okay )

in what ways has their diagnosis shaped their life or experiences?

Just a bundle of anxious nerves, terrified of being alone, forgotten. Of hurting anyone who gets close. Wants to be close to people of scared of getting close and losing them. Kept him from making friends, close connections.

symptoms

bold all that are present, italicize those that are resolved or in the history.

depression.    anxiety.    panic attacks.    dissociation (maybe???).    derealization.    depersonalization.    suicidal ideation.    self harm.    homicidal ideation.    psychosis.    auditory hallucinations .    visual hallucinations.    delusions.    mania.    hypomania.   racing thoughts.    hyperactivity (But less in a physical way and more mentally hyper active).    attention difficulty.    flashbacks.    nightmares.   hyperarousal.    hypoarousal.    hypersexuality.    hyposexuality.    psychopathy.   risky behavior.    catatonia.    somatic / bodily concerns.    mutism.    phobia.    agoraphobia.    hoarding.    obsessions.    compulsions.    body dysmorphia.    hair picking.    skin picking.     amnesia.    illness anxiety / hypochondria.    sensory loss (does his loss of vision count?? idk).    speech difficulty.    comprehension difficulty.    communication difficulty.   tics.    defiant behavior.   irritable mood.    vindictiveness.     aggression.    pyromania.    kleptomania.    paranoia.    attention seeking.    narcissism.    avoidance.    dependency.    pica.    rumination.    food restriction.    food binging.    purging.    soiling the bed.    insomnia.    fatigue.    sexual dysfunction.    delirium.    developmental delays.

note that all of the above are, on their own, normative and typical aspects of human functioning. they become “symptoms” when they last longer than “normal” or when they pose a significant impact on someone’s life / functioning.

explanations / elaborations on any of the above symptoms

A lot of italicized stuff I either consider as maybe things (ideas I’d never considered but make sense given what he’s been through and stuff he already experiences. As well as a lot of things he dealt with in the past (but also may still crop up now and again in his adult life. Everything else you can almost guarantee stems from being “born” and for a time raised in a lab setting as well as his more recent uh stint there. Though some of it is just probably more naturally what he is but to any person would be seen as uh not normal. - The Homicidal thing- he’s a good guy would never actively hurt any one unless pushed but there’s definitely been moments where his mind has wandered the path of what if. He has all this strength now after all and they were the ones who wanted a monster in the first place so what if he... (I can promise he’d never act on it unless pushed and put a position where it was an option then... maybe..) If asked he’d probably deny it

Phobia: He has ALOT Most notably terrible Clausterphobia (as well as like doctors/needles/ being restrained/ loss of vision ect..)

Auditory Hallucinations: Well that gets complicated considering he frequently hears thye screams and wails of the damned animal souls used in his creation- so to anyone else it might come across as him having audittory hallucinations- that being said on rare occaisions he probably does/ has experienced actual hallucinations (but chalked it up to oh he was just imagining it or something)

Visual hallucination I’m letting stay in itallics cause honestly I just don’t know. Like I couldsee him having dealt with them but never really thought about that one - although given his whole host of other issues I mean not out of the realm of possibility

His Hyposexuality in part are probably just his ace/aro spec- obvs they aren’t the same I know and even if he got treatment for them he’d be just as ace/aro spec as before. But honestly yah never thought about it until now but that’s def something he’s got going on

Developemental delays and just anything to do with learning all relating back to him being a lab experiment and basically havbing a very oddly wired brain that trying it’s hardest to function as humanly as it can allow with the animal bits getting in the way. Just another piece of his messy confused puzzle.

The Sucidal/risky behaviour thing is a big iffy maybe?? Like he’s never thought about actually doing it but the thought of who would miss him if he disappeared or if he did this thing would anyone care? has crossed his mind. Espcially early on in his time at the Nest when he waws pretty convinced no one would really give a damn if something happened and might have been more wiling to do something stupid and consequences be damned

Psychosis- eh not frequent if he does have/show it. I’d say mostly might manifest after rather abrupt wake from a nightmare where for a bit his mind is rather muddled and sometimes has a hard time coming out of it

Not on the symptoms list but uh he’s got some questionable amnesia/memory issues as well. Like it’s been an always thing but his most recent trauma’s has kinda made it..worse

Most notably is uh for better or worse he doesn’t remember his little bro is actually uh dead.

Stolen Tagged in spirit by @bidotheuncanny

And just if you see it and haven’t done it consider yourself tagged (Never know who has or hasn’t been tagged you know and hate to be a bother)

[undyingskies]

Big Bear

request: no

a/n: i hope you guys like this one, i truthfully have no idea how i feel about it but that is okay. i just had the idea and finally found some motivation to write so i did.

Quick reminder too, i have my request closed for the time being as i am struggling a bit with writers block and motivation! i have my inbox open to be able to still talk and interact with everyone but i am hoping to shave down my request list a little more before i open it up again! i hope everyone understands, i should have it open by the end of this upcoming week!

warnings: none

tagged: @mah-gah-lee​

word count: 2.7k

_________________________________________________

Come with us to Big Bear they said, it will be fun they said.

And it was fun in the beginning, when you guys first got to the mountain. The day started off with everyone joking around and shot gunning a few drinks. Your small group of friends, meeting other small groups of friends. It was fun.

But then, the snowboarding began. And they were wrong, it was not fun anymore. It may have been fun to watch the mess you were trying to snowboard down the mountain but instead of making it down the mountain you just ended up face down in the snow.

Either way, it wasn’t fun for you. But everyone was getting a good laugh at you.

“Come on Y/N, let’s go up one more time!”

You look at your friend, giving them the most pointed eye you could muster. All of them laughing at your look.

“No. Not happening.”

“Come on please! This could be your lucky slope, besides we’re getting lunch after.”

You let the idea roll around in your head, trying to pin point the positive and negatives of going again. While there were many negatives, at this point you’ve fallen enough, what is one more time you think.

“Fine, I’ll go.” The frustration evident coming from you.

“Yes! Atta girl, let’s get going then.” With that your hand is in your friends and they are pulling you up onto your feet.

You trudge behind them, making your way to the lift. You and your friends are just alone waiting for your turn, listening to the laughter of the group in front of you.

“Dude all I’m saying is it’s weird that you’re wearing a mask with hulu girls on it when we’re in the snow!” The loud voice of the guy in front of you making both you and your friends giggle.

Your giggles getting the attention of the boys and girl in front of you. Their eyes all on you. Your giggling immediately stops, but escapes again when you see the mask in question.

“See dude! Even they agree!” The boy laughs at his friends. “I told you it’s a weird mask!”

“It is not, I got it in Hawaii! I thought it was fun!” The one boy whines out, taking being the brunt of the joke well though.

“I don’t think it’s as fun as you think, how about you ask miss giggles over there!” The same male voice says again, causing your eyes to widen. You weren’t ready to be put on the spot.

They all stare at you for a few seconds, you’re still in shock at their attention.

“Well?” The boy with the mask asks.

“I mean it’s not, not fun; but it also looks like one of my grandpa’s shirts.” You confess, your words making everyone laugh.

“See dude!”

“That’s not fair!”

“It totally looks like a grandpa shirt!”

The group of friends all begin saying at the same time, laughing at the truth your words held. The boy in the mask looks at you and says “thanks a lot.”

You smile at his words and interject back, “You wanted the strangers opinion.” Now the both of you laugh as well.

The time you had to wait for the lift went by quickly due to your interactions with the group in front of you. They hop on the lift in front of you and you can still hear their laughter as you make your way up the hill.

You can feel your nerves set in as you get closer to hopping off the lift, you would much rather not fall flat on your face this time around.

You start hyping yourself up in your head, ��you got this Y/N. You can do it.” The hyping up seems to work as you feel your nerves start to diminish.

Then it’s your turn to hop off, your friend looking over at you smiling.

“Ready Y/N?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

And with that your board has hit the fresh snow and you’re lunging yourself off the seat.

You’re able to steady yourself as you’re going down the hill, you’re able to slice back and forth through the snow.

You can feel the smile make its way onto your face, and your laughter leave you. It felt so good to make your way down the mountain. You could hear your friends behind you, wooing in excitement.

All of you got excited too soon, because just as you were about to make it to the bottom of the mountain, something happened and you felt your feet fly into the air.

Next thing you know you’re face first in the snow. Again.

You just continue to lay there, face first in the snow, not wanting to move yet. Just letting whatever emotion you were feeling in this moment settle in you.

You can hear another board ride up next to you and stop when it reached your body. Neither of you say a word, instead a hand starts to poke your back.

You groan. “Just leave me here to die Y/F/N. Let the cold snow, swallow me up.”

A laugh leaves the body above you, it definitely didn’t belong to your friend. First of all it belonged to a man.

You immediately pick your head up and look at the person in front of you.

“Oh look it’s mask boy again.” Then you let your face plop back into the snow, not wanting to face the embarrassment in front of a stranger.

“Oh come on, let me help you up.” The boy is laughing again, reaching out to grab your hand to pull you up.

You look up again at the boy, this time letting him help you up.

Once you’re back on your feet, you’re wiping the snow off the front of your body. The boy and you both just letting the silence overtake you.

“Well, thanks mask boy.” You say awkwardly, not knowing what to do anymore.

The boy chuckles at your words. “I have a name you know, as much as I love the nickname.”

You point your eyes at the boy again, not understanding what he’s getting at.

“It’s Charlie.” As he speaks, he puts his hand out to let you shake. You take his hand in yours.

“Y/N.” As you say your name the boy takes his hand back and goes to move the goggles that covered his eyes and the mask that covered his face off.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat at the sight of the boy, you had just made fun of minutes before. He has to be the most handsome guy, you had ever set your eyes on.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment for a number of reasons. You’re just awkwardly standing there with your mouth slightly agape, your words getting lost in your throat.

“You okay Y/N?” You just heard your name leave his mouth but you never wanted it to end. A chuckle leaves his lips at the sight in front of him.

“Uh ya, super.” You say, now removing your own goggles and mask, needing the fresh air. “I, uhh, I am sorry about earlier I didn’t mean to poke fun at you in front of your friends.”

What you didn’t know is that, Charlie’s heart skipped a beat at the first real sight of your face. The color swirling in your eyes, the pink tint on your cheeks, and the smile on your face all had him holding his breath in.

A similar pink tint making its way onto his cheeks.

“It’s not a problem, Y/N. It was funny anyways.” He admits.

“So you’re okay? That did seem like a solid fall!” Your cheeks flushing a deeper red at his words.

“Wasn’t the first time today,” you laugh, “besides that one didn’t hurt as bad as the others.”

His face falls at your words.

“Oh no,” you laugh at the look on his face, “I have like two left feet, I’m fine!”

You try to convince him, but it doesn’t look like he’s buying it. Which could be because of the strained look on your face due to the pounding in your head.

“Fine, I have a headache.” You admit just because of the look on his face. It was intimidating but once you admitted it a chuckle left him.

“That wasn’t hard to get that out of you.” You shrug your shoulders, it really wasn’t. “If you want to come with me inside, I’ll get you something to drink and some medicine.”

As nice as his offer sounds, you can’t help but be hesitant.

“How don’t I know this isn’t some ploy to get me alone and kill me?” A loud chuckle leaves him.

“That is a fair point Y/N, but would a guy with a grandpa shirt as a mask really be able to pull something like that off?”

This time you’re the one laughing loudly.

“Also a fair point Charlie.” He smiles as your words.

He reaches his hand out to you. You look at his hand then back up at him a few times.

“With your two left feet, you’re going to need some help getting to the bottom.”

You roll your eyes at his words and take his hand with a huff, letting him lead you down the rest of the mountain. This time you don’t fall.

“How are you so good at this?” You let the words leave your mouth before you can think about it. He chuckles at how blatant you are.

“I’m actually from Canada so snow boarding was a common activity in my life.”

“Oh cool.”

The both of you reach the bottom of the mountain, you except him to drop your hand but he doesn’t.

He continues to lead you to inside the resort. You pass your friends as he pulls you inside, all of them looking at you with shocked faces and giving you thumbs up.

They had witnessed the whole event from the bottom of the mountain and were in shock at the handsome boy once they caught sight of him.

You laugh quietly at their antics. Charlie looks back at you after hearing your laughter but just smiles at you.

He continues to lead you inside until he is pushing you to sit in a chair and leaves you alone with a, “one second.”

As you sit alone, you take the rest of the bulky snow clothes off. The heat from the resort making it impossible to sit in the warm clothing.

Charlie comes back up to you smiling, giving you a once over, until he is pulled back to reality and handing you the pain killers and a water bottle.

You take them from his hand gratefully. As you swallow down the pills, he goes to sit in the chair next to you following your lead of stripping of the bulky clothes.

You feel yourself gulp a little harder as he is just left in a tight long sleeve and pulling his beanie off to run his hand through his brunette hair before pulling it back on.

He was a sight to see.

He catches you staring and smiles at you. His heart skipping another beat.

“So Y/N, what possessed you to snowboard with two left feet?” The both of you laugh at his words.

“Well first of all I didn’t know I had two left feet before I got here today and second of all my friends thought it would be a fun get away for the weekend.” The two sit in silence just smiling at one another before you break it, “what brought you here?”

“Oh, uh, kind of the same thing! My friends thought it would be fun to come up here for the weekend and I’ll never turn down an adventure.”

From there your conversation explodes. Neither of you wanting it to end. It was nice getting to know each other, with every word your interest for one another growing.

The only thing that pulls you from the conversation is the darkness taking over the sky and your phone buzzing from texts from your friends asking you where you were and demanding to know what was happening with the “cute boy who watched you fall on your face.” Their words not yours.

You quickly shoot them a text back letting them know you’d leave now and would fill them in with details once you get back to the cabin.

“It looks like I’ve got to go, but it was nice meeting you Charlie” You smile, while standing on your feet. Charlie’s face falls at your words but follows your lead as he stands up and looks at his watch. Sighing at the time, it was getting late.

“Would it be okay if I walked you back to where ever you’re staying?” He pauses as you think about his offer, “It is dark outside and what kind of guy would I be if I let you go alone.”

“Another fair point, Charlie. I’d appreciate it actually.” He smiles at your words and grabs both of your snowboards even though you try to protest but he just shushes you.

It is honestly impressive how the boy was able to carry both boards under one arm, his muscles popping out. His free hand reaches out to yours and he entangles your fingers.

You just smile at him, as you begin to lead the way to where you were staying.

“So how long as you staying?” You ask him as you walk down the street that leads to your cabin.

“We’re here until Sunday, so two more days! You?”

“Oh, same!” The both of you smile at each other.

The last few feet to your cabin is just spent in silence. The both of you thinking the same things but too nervous to say anything.

You continue to lead him up to your cabin before you stop in front of your door. You just stand there as he sets your snowboard up against the wall and places his down so he can turn to look at you.

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet you today Y/N even if it began with you making fun of you!”

The heat returning to your cheeks.

“Hey! I apologized about that!” You whine out, him laughing.

“It’s totally fine!” This time he pauses and looks down at your hands which are still holding each other. “Do you think I could maybe get your number?” You can tell he is nervous due to his tone and his free hand moving to scratch the back of his neck.

“I think that you just maybe could.” A big smile makes its way onto his face, as he goes to grab his phone from his back pocket and handing it to you.

You quickly type your number into his phone and hand it back to him. He smiles at seeing your contact on his screen before he locks it and puts it back in his pocket.

“Well maybe I will see you around!” You say, dropping his hand and going to open the door. An awkward goodbye, but you couldn’t think of anything else.

It takes him a few seconds before he’s stopping you.

“Hey, wait!” You stop and turn to look at him, as he steps towards you. He leans in and the closer he gets has you holding your breath.

He places a kiss to your cheek, both of you smiling as he pulls away.

“I would like to see you again before we leave Y/N and after we leave too, if that’s alright.” You smile at his confession.

“I think we could manage that,” you lean in this time and press a kiss to his cheek, “just text me.”

Then you turn and walk into your cabin closing the door with the biggest smile on your face. Leaving Charlie with a similar smile and pink cheeks on the other side.

He laughs as he hears your friends yell at you before he walks away.

He spends the rest of the night smiling and texting you, excited to see you again. While you spend the night with a twin smile and your friends bombarding you with questions about the cute boy who had a grandpa shirt as a mask.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Shoutout to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my sounding board and beta reader! She's the absolute best a girl could ask for, thanks my love!

Word Count: 3.0k

Recommended song: "The Heart is a Muscle" by Gang of Youths

You woke before the sun, Pierre's bare chest pressed to your back and an arm slung over your middle. You wiggle in his grasp, trying to be sneaky as you turn to face him but ultimately waking him. You run a finger over his lips as they curve upwards before biting lightly. You draw back and he laughs quietly.

"Morning," You whisper, head throbbing slightly. "I feel like I got hit by a train."

"Knocking back four or five shots in a few hours will do that to you." Pierre stretches, arching his back and exposing his neck. The slight mark you left the night before had darkened into a true, unmissable bruise. The reminder of it sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn't resist ghosting your lips over the hurt.

He sighs, cupping your chin and bringing your mouth up to his. The kiss is lazy, both of you still too ensnared by sleep to put any heat into it. 

You stayed tangled in him until Yuki called to remind Pierre they had to be at the airport by eight. You helped him pack as slowly as you could manage, a stone settling in your gut. When the time came, Pierre hadn’t wanted to leave, only relenting when Yuki called again to say the jet was waiting on him. 

The longing wasn't something that normally hit you this hard when Pierre left. It was new, the edges raw and unhealed when you poked at it. Everything on campus Tuesday reminded you of him, from the sunlight hitting the lab table to the rare cloudless blue of the London sky. 

Just when you’d gotten over the sting of his absence, the news broke. Charles sent you the link to the article, simply captioned, 'You will want to read this.'

Gasly snogs mystery girl in London bar, the headline read. And fuck, that was a grainy picture of you standing between his legs, fingers tangled in his hair. You scroll through the article, heart in your throat, praying you weren’t called out by name.

By some small miracle, whoever had taken the photos hadn’t gotten one of your face. Against your better judgement, you checked the comments.

That was where your name came up. Fans had connected the dots. Your hair had been up that night, but it was the exact same shade as the picture. Your instagram had been filled with photosets of London for months, and Pierre had flown out early before Silverstone. Clearly he had been meeting someone. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that you were the one in the photos, even if the article didn't mention you directly.

The first DM didn’t come for a few hours. It was nasty, the user hurling cruel words at you that struck your chest like tiny knives. Plenty more followed, threats and names alike. 

Gold digger.

Does she really think she deserves him?

He could do so much better.

You couldn’t bear attending classes. You sent Pierre the link to the damning article and stayed in your apartment and sobbed. The fans- if they could even be called such a thing- pulled no punches. Every DM and comment struck home, until you eventually had to turn your phone off and curl up in bed, defeated.

People are cruel, you thought, wiping the tears that streak down your cheeks. 

You kept your phone off for a few hours before you gathered the courage to check it again. You immediately uninstall any and all social media, unwilling to let it affect you further than it already had. But messages pour in, most from Pierre and a few from your brother.

Hell yeah! Was all your brother sent, along with a screenshot of the article. Your mouth twists, the memory of the comments washing over you again.

Pierre’s messages were the ones that broke you. There were close to a dozen of them, accompanied by missed calls and panicked voicemails. 

“Are you okay? Please pick up the phone, my love, I need to hear that you’re okay. I love you. Please call me back.”

The last message, time stamped from a half hour earlier, simply said, “I’m getting on a plane.”

A fresh sob wracks your body. You press a hand to your mouth, trying to silence it. God, he was so pure hearted. You knew the comments would hurt him just as much as they hurt you, if not more. He would blame himself, when in reality, it had been a mutual mistake. Either one of you should have recognized the risks of your actions. But you couldn't let him risk his career for it. You could make it through… somehow.

I’m okay, you type, hating that you had to lie. You don’t need to come to London.

I’m already in the air, He informs you, and you curse softly. He would have hell to pay upon returning to Austria, even if he had somehow convinced Tost to let him leave at the last minute.

I'll be there soon

The flight from Vienna to Heathrow was about two and a half hours, which meant you had that long to pull yourself together. You didn’t want Pierre to see you broken. You shower and change into slightly less ragged sweatpants and an oversized shirt. You grab your laptop, quickly emailing your professors to apologize for missing lecture unannounced and informing them you wouldn’t be there the rest of the week either. You'd need time to sort out your head before facing your peers.

Pierre’s knock came far too quickly. You’d barely assembled your face into a mask of resolve before the door opened. Whatever semblance of control you'd managed to construct came crashing down at the sight of him. He looks just as distraught as you, eyes red and cheeks flushed.

Before he says a word, he gathers you in his arms, tucking your head to his chest. Your lip wobbles, and when he whispers “I’m so sorry,” the tears fall in earnest. For less than a week, you’d been on top of the world with Pierre by your side. You’d gotten to enjoy the idea of being his girlfriend for six days before reality stepped in and ruined it.

You clutch at his shirt, fighting hard to piece yourself back together. Now that he was there, the dam had burst and no amount of willpower could keep the sobs back. 

Pierre sweeps you up, one arm under your knees and the other keeping you tight to him as he carries you to your bedroom. He climbs into bed, shoes and all, and keeps you in his lap as he strokes your hair. He sniffles, softly enough that you know he's trying to be strong for you.  The realization that he's crying too just makes it hurt that much more.

"I'm sorry," He whispers again and again, as if the two syllables were the only ones he remembered. You can't find your voice to tell him you don't blame him or how much his presence means. 

Instead, you press your face into the soft cotton of his sweater. He doesn't move except to stroke a calloused hand over your hair. You let his presence wash over you until your breathing turns more even and your fingers stop trembling. 

"H-how were you able to leave Austria?" Your voice shakes, but you tilt your head up to face him. He quickly wipes away the wetness on his cheeks with a sleeve.

"I just left. The only one I told was Yuki. He said he'd cover for me. I saw the comments and I couldn't think straight. I didn't want you to believe them." The look he turns on you is an apology. "When I called and it didn't even ring, I had to get to you."

"I don't think you'll be welcomed back with open arms," You point out, and he presses a tender kiss to your brow.

"They can be pissed at me all they want. I don't care. I needed to be here." You wouldn't admit it, but he was right. The fact that he'd risked everything to comfort you helped you ignore what those users had said. Nothing could ever erase the words, but Pierre’s presence dulled their impact.

“I already petitioned for the article to be removed,” Pierre says softly. “Don’t know if it’ll amount to anything, but it’s worth a shot.”

You nod and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s so much worse than I imagined.” Pierre’s cheek comes to a rest atop your head, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that I’m not the only one that loves you. But it’s like they don’t remember that I’m human.”

“People are bold when they're speaking to a screen instead of another person.” 

"It was so much easier before anyone knew," You say, words dipped in longing. Rumors had never swirled when you had kept your distance, you'd made sure of it. But now that the secret was out… Would your life be spent dodging threats and dealing with negativity?

He pauses, thumb stilling. “Do you… Do you want it to go back to the way things were before? When we were... friends?"

Your head whips around. “What?”

“It isn’t fair that you have to go through this because of me,” He explains. “I hate the fact that I’m the one causing you pain. The way you’re being treated is only because I live in the spotlight.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assert, placing a hand on his stubbled cheek. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Maybe it would be easier if we-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” You say sternly. You force him to look at you, his eyes storming like the sea. “We’ll figure it out. Our emotions got the best of us last week. We just have to be more careful, keep this behind closed doors. We don’t need to flaunt it, right? Just tell the press that you want to keep your private life private, and I’ll take a break from social media. We can figure it out.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. His voice is scratchy, like he had swallowed gravel. “Alright.”

“It’s us against the world,” You tell him, “And I couldn’t ask for a better teammate.” Your lips ghost against his in an attempt to reassure him. He returns the kiss, firmer and more confident. Your hand slips to the nape of his neck, drawing him in as your tongue glides against his lower lip. 

Last week, you’d fucked. But tonight, the sex was something else entirely. It was soft sighs and languid kisses, whispered words of adoration and promises of endless love. Above all, it was an affirmation. Pierre loved you; heart, mind, and soul. In every sense of the word. He would let nothing come between you and himself. Not his career, jealous fans, or the thousands of miles that may sometimes separate you.

Pierre offered you his heart, and you accepted it without question.

**********

The few precious hours Pierre managed to give you were enough to keep you afloat the rest of the week. The break from seemingly endless lectures helped to reset your mind and give you time to focus on yourself.

Pierre called as often as he could, and texted when he couldn’t. You filled him in on the little things you did to keep busy, like how you spent all of Sunday rearranging your tiny apartment so that your bed was as close to his in Austria as you could get it. Monday night, you fell asleep on Facetime with him as you tried and failed to write a term paper for your architectural history class. 

Pierre’s visit and subsequent calls had made you feel invincible. But the moment you walk into the lecture hall on Tuesday, everyone’s eyes are on you: the first test of your newly minted confidence. Chin held high, you meet a few of their stares and take your usual seat at the front. The moment you start to question yourself, if you're ready to face the scrutiny, your phone buzzes with a text from Pierre.

Ignore them. Remember that I love you. I’ll call you tonight.

Once again, he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. It amazed you that a handful of carefully selected words could grant you so much strength. But it was proof that Pierre recognized and accepted your fears and was willing to help you work through them. 

You take a breath, letting the whispers of your classmates fade until they were nothing more than a faint hum. You turn your focus on the professor as she enters, falling into your usual cadence. Easy. You could ignore the gossip until they got tired of it and left you alone. Their fascination couldn’t last more than a few days. 

You made it through the rest of your classes and walked home without incident. No one ran up to you and demanded you explain your relationship with Pierre. Your worst fears had been abated. The stress of it rolls off your shoulders when you make it to your apartment. It was already 7 o’clock, but Pierre hadn’t called yet. Seeing as Austria was an hour ahead, you weren’t sure he would hold to his earlier promise.

Your stomach growls, and you leave your bag next to your bed before heading to the kitchen. Dinner was a box of macaroni and cheese, simple but delicious. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping to see Pierre’s name on the screen. 

Coming to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be getting a call, you settle into your favorite chair and crack open your laptop. Term papers didn't write themselves, and you still had a few thousand words to write. You lost yourself in theories and articles for a few hours before your phone breaks your concentration.

You awake?

A smile splits your face. Yeah. Working on this never ending term paper.

I'll leave you to it. Love you, sleep tight.

You laugh quietly. You agree with his 'school first' mentality most of the time, but there were exceptions to every rule. You call him, heart stuttering when he answers.

"You're supposed to be writing."

"Well, nice to hear your voice too," You say playfully. "It was boring me anyway. Who wants to read twenty pages comparing Roman and Greek columns anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure your professor does," He says with a laugh that warms your bones. If only he were standing in front of you so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your fingertips. Wanting to see his face, you switch to a video call.

"I was wondering how long that would take," He teases, smile wide and welcoming. 

"I miss you," You say softly, padding to your bed. You'd accomplished enough that you could push off writing more until tomorrow. "I wish I could come to Japan this weekend."

"Me too, my love," He responds, voice tinged with longing. "It's one of the more challenging circuits on the calendar. And you've always wanted to visit Tokyo."

You weren't surprised that he remembered that silly dream of yours. "Send me something that reminds me of you." You flick off the lights before climbing under the covers, pulling them up to your chin. "Something cute and sweet."

"I fly out tomorrow night to meet Charles. I should have some extra time to do some window shopping."

"You and Charles going on a date?" You tease, propping your head on a hand. Now that you were cozy, it was hard to keep your eyes open.

He shakes his head. "He's been… helping me with the press. Tackling it all."

"Oh." The mood sours. You decide not to dwell on it, turning to humor instead. "Give him a kiss for me as a thank you."

"He would love that," Pierre laughs. Comfortable silence blankets you, broken only by Pierre humming softly. It was a song you recognize as one of his favorites; it must have been stuck in his head.

"What time do I have to wake up on Sunday?" You mumble, struggling to stay awake while he was unknowingly serenading you.

"Do you want to watch the prerace stuff?" Papers shuffle softly on the other end as he figures it out for you. "If you do, probably like 3:30. If not, the race would be at five your time, so maybe 4:30."

"That's early. You're lucky I love you enough to sacrifice my beauty sleep."

He didn't hesitate before responding. "Luckily you don't need sleep to be beautiful."

Your mouth curls in a sleepy smile. "When you say things like that, I hate the distance between us even more."

Pierre scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't have a break for another month or so."

"I know."

Silence falls again, both of you lost in your own heads.

"You should sleep," He says finally, and you nod. Your first class was only 6 hours from now. "I'll sing to you if you promise to close your eyes and try to sleep."

Despite your best efforts, you yawn. You often called him for a song when you couldn't sleep and the time difference permitted it. Just hearing his voice was soothing enough, but a song? It was heaven. "Shouldn't be hard to do." Sleep came within minutes, Pierre's soft song your lullaby.

Tagging: @flashcal @sunshinesewis

[polaroid15]

You Can't Save Everyone

Summary: After a rough night brings back vivid memories of his Uncle's death, Peter finds himself at Stark Tower. Tony has some realizations.

*trigger warning for dissociation

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

--------

It’s just shy of midnight when Peter enters the Tower.

Tony is in his lab when it happens, fiddling mindlessly with a new program for his suit. His shoulders ache and his lower back flares with pain, the discomfort only made known as FRIDAY’s alert interrupts his concentration. It pulls him away from his project like a tide rolling back to sea.

“Boss. As per the sneaking spider protocol, I am to inform you that Mr. Parker has entered the tower via an eighth floor window.”

A mixture of emotions flood Tony’s weary mind, battling mainly between excitement and worry. Historically, Peter showing up in the dead of night unannounced is not good, but Pepper has been trying to coach him into optimism.

It could be nothing.

Please let it be nothing.

“Is he okay?” Tony asks, already on his way to standing. He braces himself against his desk for a moment, working to loosen the stiffness in his joints as FRIDAY responds.

“It is unclear. Peter is unresponsive to my prompts.”

A spike of cold adrenaline shoots all the way down to his toes. He hurries towards the exit once he gets his bearings, a familiar sense of dread resting heavy in his gut. “Keep trying.”

“Of course.”

The elevator takes eons and Tony resists every nerve in his body to run once it opens. He’ll be fine, his mind assures, but even his own sentiments are hard to believe. Because it’s Peter. Because out of all the kid’s in the world he could’ve gotten attached to, it had to be a disaster prone spider mutant.

“Anything FRI?” Tony asks, quickening his stride. He’s close, but still too far. Still not there. “Is he responding yet?”

“Negative, boss.”

“Damn it kid-”

Tony stops short at the threshold of Peter’s room, the space underneath the door dark. He knocks once, twice, then barrels on through with his heart in his throat.

A sharp chill emanates from the open window but the kid is nowhere in sight. The sound of water running in the bathroom is enough evidence to steer Tony in it’s direction. Like the bedroom, the light in the bathroom is absent. Tony slaps his palm against the frame, ear pressed to hear. Please don’t be bleeding out. “Kid?” he shouts. “Are you in there?”

The shower continues to run, but it’s the only noise Tony hears. He knocks harder. “Peter! Can you hear me?”

He counts to ten in his head. Bites his lip. Closes his eyes.

“If you don’t answer I’m coming in, kiddo.”

This time he only counts to five.

Thankfully, the handle twists without a problem. Tony flicks on the switch and winces against the jarring brightness from the bulbs above the mirror. It only takes a couple seconds to find the kid in question, and his stomach bottoms out.

“Peter-”

He’s skidding to his knees on the cold tile before he can draw another breath, his fingers curling over the lip of the bathtub. Peter is sitting at the base of the tub under a steady stream of water, staring blankly at the wall and covered in blood. He’s not in his suit, the remnants of a NASA shirt just barely visible through the crimson and gore. It’s on his face, in his hair, under his nails-

Breathe. Breathe. Oh God.

“Peter?” he prompts, his hands shaky and hesitant to reach out. The kid has hardly even blinked since Tony barged in, let alone acknowledge him. Warning bells go off in his head like clockwork, sparking pain in his temples. “Can you hear me?”

But Peter merely stares onward, pale and distant as pink water circles the drain. He gives no indication whatsoever of being aware that Tony’s there, let alone talking to him, and he’s had enough experience with ptsd to know the kid is dissociating.

“FRI. Scan- scan Peter’s vitals. Is he hurt?”

“No wounds detected.”

A breath of relief. Tony leans forward, pressing his head into the tub. “Thank God. Okay, okay. Oh Christ.” More tethered, he reaches out a hand and feels the water’s temperature. Cold. He adjusts it until it’s warm and gets FRIDAY to dim the lights. “I’m here buddy,” he says, unsure if his words will break through. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though it kills his already sore back, Tony remains hunched on the bathroom floor. He sits and watches over Peter for the better part of an hour until the kid starts to come back to himself, his blinks becoming more frequent and his fingers twitching from where they rest in his lap. The distant fog in Peter’s eyes begins to ease, replaced with tears that are nearly impossible to differentiate from the water.

“Pete?” he whispers, a sorrow of his own causing his words to stick in his throat. He’s careful not to touch, to keep a distance no matter how badly he wants to do the opposite. “You back with me kiddo?”

Peter’s eyebrows pinch together and he sucks in a shuddering breath. With the grace of a newborn foal, Peter extends his hands in front of his face. They’re still stained with blood, and at the sight, Peter moans.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Can you look at me Peter?” He feels like he’s walking on a minefield. One misstep and it all goes kaboom. “Eyes over here bud. I know you can do it.”

It’s like Peter’s moving through molasses. His head swivels, his chest heaving, and then their eyes meet. It sends another jolt through Tony, though he fights to keep his expression neutral. Comforting. “That’s great. That’s perfect. I wanna help you. Can I touch you?”

An agonizing lull stretches while Peter processes the request. Then, he nods.

Careful not to move too quickly, Tony grabs a washcloth from the space under the sink and grabs Peter’s hands. He runs the material over the marred skin and under his nails. He does the same to his arms, his neck, his face. He squeezes shampoo in his hair and waits until the bubbles disappear and the water runs clear. When he finishes, Peter’s eyes are closed and red rimmed, his posture spring loaded as if seconds from breaking.

He rests his hand on Peter’s shoulder, noticing only now that his job is done how badly the boy is trembling. “Pete?” he prompts. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Another nod. For the first time, Peter moves intently, leaning forward and struggling to twist off the water. When he succeeds he rests his forehead on his knees until Tony helps him stand and together they manage to get Peter over the lip of the tub. He stands in his wet clothes, shivering and looking at the floor.

“Stay here, buddy. I’ll go get you some new clothes.”

Only when he’s certain Peter isn’t going to topple over, Tony vacates the steaming bathroom to the bedroom. He rifles through the kid’s messy drawers until he wrangles a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Peter is sitting on the toilet lid when he returns, his head bowed in his hands.

“You need help changing?” Tony asks at the doorway. Peter lifts his head at the question and it looks as if it takes the same amount of effort the kid has used to lift a car.

“N-no,” he croaks, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible. “I’m okay.”

“Alright,” Tony agrees, another hard knot spawning at the base of his throat. He passes the clothes into Peter’s outstretched hands. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“Right. Thanks.”

With one final look, Tony backs away and clicks the door shut behind him. His hand rests on the knob, tears pricking at his eyes and his body feeling weaker than ever. Then, only after he regains some strength, he settles on the edge of Peter’s bed and waits. His anxiety is a low burning flame, growing higher as his thoughts spiral. He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head between his knees as he forces oxygen deep into his lungs. Get a grip. Focus on Peter. You can’t help him if you’re panicking.

Somewhere in the muddy spiral of his thoughts Peter finishes in the bathroom and settles on the empty space to Tony’s right, so close that their arms touch. The bed dips with his weight.

And for a while, all they do is sit there.

Tony is grateful to hear him breathing. Even and slow. He matches the pattern and feels the embers of his anxiety darken.

“I’m sorry Tony,” Peter says eventually. If possible, he melts further into Tony’s side.

“Nothing to be sorry for, kid. How’re you feeling?”

Peter hums as he thinks. Then he shrugs. “Not so good I guess. Spacey. But better.”

“Better is good.”

They lapse into another silence, though this one is shorter. Peter’s breaths pick up. “Something happened today,” he says.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take your time. We’ll go at your speed.”

Peter relaxes again, though some unresolved tension keeps his hands curled into fists. “I always forget,” he starts, his voice catching some detached quality, “how much blood is in a person.”

Tony hardly breathes.

“I was walking to Ned’s,” Peter continues. “I- I was supposed to stay the night at his place. I had just gotten off the subway and as soon as I came up there was a driveby. The man in front of me… one second he was standing and the next-” Peter chokes. Swallows. “They shot him in the chest. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it- it didn’t work.”

“Peter-”

“He was talking to me,” Peter says, his face wet once more. “He had a family. A wife. He- he looked just like Ben. I thought it was him, Tony. I really did. I could have sworn it was him. All over again. And he died, and I left when I could see the police coming. I just ran.”

“Peter, kiddo-”

“It was Ben,” Peter concludes with a shiver. “I think I was calling his name. He died again. I couldn’t save him.”

“It wasn’t Ben, okay? It wasn’t. Even if it felt like it was. None of this is your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I shouldn’t- I just- I couldn’t let May see me like this. I’m sorry for coming here.”

This is where Tony draws the line. He swivels on the bed and grips Peter’s forearm. “I’m glad you came. I want to help, Peter. Always. You know that.”

Peter nods, lip wobbling. “I don’t- I don’t really remember walking here. It’s like my body just took over. Like it knew it was safe.”

God, this kid. Tony blinks viciously at the sharp sting of tears and clears his throat. “There’s always a place for you here. Night and day. Our wish is your command. All that jazz.”

Miraculously, Peter cracks a smile. It’s weary, and Tony is reminded for the thousandth time just how young he is. “God, I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the trauma,” Tony agrees, a pit opening up in his stomach. He feels a desperate urge to fix. To protect. “Feel up to some sleep?”

Instead of answering, Peter detaches himself from Tony’s side and crawls over to the opposite end of the bed. He struggles with the covers until he’s pressed between them, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think I’m cursed?”

“What?”

“Cursed,” Peter repeats, like it’s the most obvious question in the world. “That the people around me are destined to some horrible, terrible fate?”

“God, I hope not,” he tries to joke, shifting his attention to the wall.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

Peter huffs out a quiet laugh, though it sounds mostly forced. Tony sobers at the sound. “Of course you’re not cursed,” he says. “It’s just- life happens, you know? And yeah, you’ve gotten the short end of the stick more than once. Way more than is fair. But you can’t save everyone, Pete. No matter how badly you want to.”

At this, Peter blinks rapidly, his mouth pressing down into a hard line. Tony notices the way his fingernails curl up hard into his palms and he instinctively reaches out to stop it. Peter splays out his fingers, though they shake, and two distinct tears roll down into the pillow. “Oh man. Why is it that you’re always right?”

“I’m a literal genius, remember?”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

Something like sunlight leaks through Tony’s chest, disrupting the weight of the darkness that’s been monopolizing ever since he found Peter in the bathroom. “You, sir, are much less funny than you think.”

“Hmm. I disagree,” Peter says, his smile faltering as his eyes dip closed. He forces them back up, though they remain half lidded. Tony can hardly breathe through the tender feeling that blossoms up through his chest. Gross. Feelings.

“You going to be okay for the night?”

Peter hesitates. Nods. Then, as Tony stands to leave, his breath hitches. “Stay,” he blurts. Then as if embarrassed, backtracks. “Actually- no. Nevermind. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

But Tony’s already easing himself down on top of the covers on the opposite end of the bed, crossing his arms behind his head. “You better not snore,” he says.

Peter laughs again. This time, it’s genuine. A complete 180, a revival, and Tony thanks whatever higher power is listening for it. “Um. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who snores.”

Tony’s eyes close, his adrenaline gone and his energy spent. Peter is safe, he reminds himself. He’s here and he’s breathing and in this moment, he’s okay. “Sorry to break it to you kid, but geniuses don’t snore.”

“Right. Whatever you say.”

A couple beats pass. Tony’s chin dips. Then, quiet as ever, Peter’s voice returns. “Thank you Tony. For- for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” he murmurs, his chest tightening with a foreign feeling of affection. God, he’s getting soft.

“No,” Peter says, struggling up to his elbows. Through the dim light, Tony can see just how earnestly Peter is looking at him. “I need you to- I need you to hear me. Thank you. Everything since Germany- it’s just- if it weren’t for you-” he takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you.”

“I’m in your corner,” Tony says, surprising himself with the sincerity behind his words. It makes his chest ache. “Always.”

“I know.”

“You’re not cursed.”

“I- I know.”

“You’re a good kid.”

“Well-”

“But not if you snore.”

Peter laughs and Tony bites back one of his own. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice just above a whisper, and Tony senses it as the last of the boy’s tension drains from the room. Then, as if an afterthought, he slurs, “I’m always in your corner too, Tony.”

And within seconds, he’s asleep.

Though he’s exhausted, Tony lays and blinks heavily at the ceiling. He’s not a father, but he’s pretty damn sure this is what it must feel like.

The last thing he hears is Peter’s soft snore. He drifts, tears applying pressure against his eyelids, and vows to keep the boy safe. Because he’s not cursed. Not even close.

And Tony will always be in his corner.

Because Peter will always be in his.

No matter what.

[frostedfaves]

And I Drove You Crazy

Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Requested by anon: I don’t know the characters very well but some prompts that I can think of and that you could least jump off from is maybe Nat teasing the reader for a having a crush?? Maybe a few timeline jumps so the first time they meet, then the first time Nat realize the crush, and then the kiss?? Idk lmao

Warnings: constantly flustered reader

A/N: this turned out more fluffy than teasing, but hopefully you’re still able to enjoy it! thanks for the ideas :)

marvel requests?

-

“Is this seat taken?”

You froze with the wine glass in your hand, and you focused all your energy on swallowing the alcohol before you choked. When it was safe to do so, you turned on the bar stool and faced none other than Natasha Romanoff with a nervous smile.

“Nope, all yours.”

She offered you an inviting smile of her own, eyes never leaving yours as she sat next to you. After noticing you squirm a bit, she turned to the bartender, practically batting her eyelashes at him.

“She’ll have another glass, and I’ll take a double of your strongest vodka.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you insisted, gesturing to the one you just placed on the bar. “I’m not even finished.”

“You’ll have it for when you are.” She shrugged simply before thanking the bartender and taking a sip from her own drink. “So I haven’t met you before. How’d you end up here?”

Both of you took each other in over the rims of your glasses, and you’d never known a shade of green could be so fucking beautiful. Swallowing the liquid in hopes of gaining courage, you cleared your throat to speak again. You could only wish your voice came through as elegantly as her collected tone.

“Well, Mr. Stark promoted Ms. Potts to CEO and you weren’t actually who you said you were, so he had to hire someone he could do an accurate background check on.”

“You’re Stark’s assistant. Your name?” She stretched her hand out to you as you introduced yourself, and a shiver shot through you at her surprisingly warm touch. “Well, you may know me as Natasha Romanoff, Natalie Rushman or the Black Widow. But I’d prefer you to know me as just Nat.”

She suddenly hopped down from the bar stool with her drink in hand, and you’d never felt such abandonment from a simple action. A bit of hope slipped into your thoughts like a secret note when she turned to face you with that wicked smile again.

“I hope to see you again, soon. Good luck with the arrogant man-child.”

-

“Is this seat taken?”

An overwhelming sense of deja vu washed over you at the voice, popcorn falling out of your hand and back into the bowl in your lap as you looked over your shoulder. There Natasha stood, bright red locks hanging on either side of her face as she glanced down at you.

“Nope, all yours.”

There seemed to be a slight bounce in her step as she came around the couch and plopped onto the cushion next to you, a teasing grin on her lips as she reached over and stole a few kernels.

“You seem to be in a really good mood.”

“Just happy to see you.” How lucky you were that she didn’t have super-hearing, because your heart screamed in your chest. “What are we watching?”

“It’s just some dumb, cheesy Hallmark movie. You know, 25 Days of Christmas. I can change the channel if you want.” The sight of her emerald eyes meeting yours threatened to knock the wind out of you, and you quickly took a deep breath to remind yourself of oxygen.

“No, this seems...normal. I don’t get a lot of that, so I appreciate it more.”

The two of you watched in silence, aside from the occasional rustling of your hands in the popcorn bowl. It wasn’t until the credits started to roll that you gained the nerve to speak again.

“I hope this isn’t weird or anything, but I got you something.” Her features seemed to hold confusion, so you quickly added “For Christmas, I mean.”

“You did?” 

You nodded toward the large tree in the corner of the room and she jumped to her feet, heading over and sifting through the gifts to find the one with both of your names on it. As soon as it was in her hands she was ripping the paper open, eager to know what you’d taken the time to get for her. On the other end, you waited with nervous hands and uneven breath for a reaction.

“This…” You stopped breathing altogether until she faced you with tears in her eyes and an appreciative smile. “This is beautiful. Thank you so much. I wish I’d known so I could get you something.”

“It was nothing,” you brushed it off, looking down at your smart watch as it beeped. “I have to go. Duty calls.” You offered her a timid grin as you placed the remainder of the popcorn on a table and hurried off.

“When are you gonna stop being scared and make a move?”

“A Christmas gift doesn’t automatically mean romantic interest, Clint,” Natasha scowled as she turned to the smirking assassin.

“It does when you drive two hours away and hit up five different stores to find it.”

As Clint left her alone again, her eyes drifted back to the gift in her hands and she thought carefully about what this really meant for the two of you.

-

“Is this seat taken?”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips, thankfully masked by the noise floating in from the busy streets below. You weren’t disappointed by her appearance, just desperate for an uncomplicated breath, and you feared you wouldn’t obtain that while she was around.

“Nope, all yours.”

You kept your eyes on the multiple skyscrapers and the night sky behind them, well aware of her gaze locked in on you as she leaned against the section of wall you were currently sitting on.

“What’s a wonderful person like you doing outside all alone a minute before the ball drops?”

“I am here to avoid watching a bunch of happy couples lock lips at midnight,” you told her in the empty spaces of your defeated sigh.

“No special lips for you tonight?” she questioned in a tone just above a whisper, leaning in more to make the eye contact you were actively trying to avoid.

“One pair, but I don’t think they’re available.”

The crowds both below you and inside the building began to loudly countdown to midnight, and before you could negatively react, Natasha’s hands were on you. One on your thigh to steady the both of you, the other making its home on your cheek.

“You always have a seat for me. The least I could do is have a kiss for you.”

Your lips met just as the fireworks began.

-

Tags: @imnotasuperhero 

[sorryimanon]

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending  quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

-

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state. 

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before  draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

[waywardrose13]

Deliverance From Evil

Pairing: DARK!Dean Winchester x Reader (?), Sam x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 11,054

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: Non-con, rape, physical and mental/emotional abuse. Ages 18+, virgin!reader, language, mentions of depression/anxiety, curse, purgatory, purgatory!Dean, hateful remarks, negative self image, mentions of suicidal thoughts, not enough editing to satisfy me. Please let me know if I missed any triggers/warnings.

Rating: Mature- 18+!! If I find that you are under 18, you will be blocked. Go read some of my minor friendly stories.

Summary: Dean Winchester had two sides; the selfless, caring man who loved his baby brother, car, and pie; and the cruel, sadistic man who was hell bent on making Y/n’s life a living hell. When Dean, Cas, and Y/n are sucked into Purgatory, things take a turn for the worse. Two years later, Y/n finds herself face to face with the man who broke her. A new discovery leads to Y/n finding out the truth, yet sometimes, the truth is better left unsaid.

A/N- This story is very dark and can be triggering to some readers. Please do not read if any of the above warnings are triggering to you. I have also listed some resources below if you are in need of help. I love you all!

Bingo squares: @spndarkbingo​ (Purgatory!Dean) // @badthingshappenbingo​ (This is for your own good) // @spndeanbingo​ (Soulmates AU)

U.S. National Sexual Violence Hotline:  800.656.4673

U.S. National Domestic Abuse Hotline: 800.799.7233

The idea of Purgatory wasn’t what put me on edge. It wasn’t the monsters constantly down your throat, or the blood, sweat, and tears that somehow never seemed to stop. It was Dean Winchester’s sinister stare and cruel remarks that put me on edge.

I didn’t hate the man. If I was being honest, I felt quite the opposite, but it was more of a feeling of distress. Ever since meeting him, something about me had made him loathe me. I wasn’t sure what it was, nor have I ever asked, but whatever it is, I have never been able to make him at least tolerate me. 

Sam and I had met in college. I was a freshman when he was a senior, and he tutored me for a while. We became friends, and soon we found out the both of us had gone to college to escape the hunting life. We grew apart for years, naturally coming back together on a hunt. 

I had been at the bunker with the Winchesters ever since, much to the elder brother’s dismay. And ever since then, Dean had made it his job to make my life a living hell.

It started out as small jabs at me; little comments that had an underlying, cruel meaning to them. Or forgetting to pick me up from police stations, houses, etc, or not bringing back food for me. But slowly, it evolved into something more. He began openly being cruel towards me, saying things that made me cry in bed at night. He’d shove me when Sam wasn’t looking, he’d purposely break my things, bleach my clothes, point out my insecurities for a laugh. 

I honestly thought the bullying ended in high school. 

I hadn’t fallen in love with the person he was towards me. I had fallen in love with the person he was to others. He was selfless and caring. He was brave, intelligent, and had a killer sense of humor. And the simple sight of him made me weak at the knees. But whenever his words were spoken to me, or his glare was pointed at me, I sometimes forgot who he was when he wasn’t hating me.

Something must have been wrong with me. How could I love a man who was so ruthlessly callous to me? Although I had tried to stop the feelings, it was like an inexplicable pull vehemently caused me to fall into a confusing love with this man. It was unstoppable, and however much I prayed or wished for it to leave, the feeling never ceased.

“Hey, Y/N!” I jumped as Dean barked at me, and I snapped myself out of it, looking towards him. “Get your head out of the damn clouds and move your ass.”

I sighed, hoisting my makeshift bag onto my shoulder, trudging after him and Benny. 

After Dean killed Dick Roman, he, Cas and I were swallowed into Purgatory along with the Leviathan, too close to the impact sight, apparently. I immediately knew I was fucked when Dean looked at me dead in the eyes when we landed and told me he’d rather go to hell than be stuck with me in a place like this. 

“We need her, Dean,” Cas had said. Dean had rolled his eyes, scoffing.

“We need her like we need the plague, Cas,” he snarled. I flinched at his words, and I closed my eyes for a moment to keep the tears at bay. “I mean for fucks sake.”

“Look, the way I see it, I don’t care if you hate her, but we need all the help we can get. And she’s a good hunter despite everything else you, for some reason, hate about her.” 

It was the first time someone had stood up for me. It wasn’t long, however, before Dean and I were on our own, Cas seemingly taking off after a particularly rough fight. He ignored me the whole time, not saying any words to me, but using his shoulder to roughly shove me out of his way from time to time. The way I saw it, he wasn’t verbally abusing me anymore. I could manage a few shoves.

When Benny joined our team of two, Dean began speaking again, and we continued the search for Cas.

So here we were now, walking through the dense forest of Purgatory, eyes and ears constantly alert. It was like the start of a bad joke; two hunters and a vampire walk through purgatory…

“Don’t mind him, Cher,” Benny murmured to me. “He’s in a mood.”

“He’s always in a mood around me, Benny,” I said. “Nothing I do will ever change that.”

“Benny, quit gossiping with her and get over here,” Dean said, voice hushed. He was crouched down over the edge of a cliff, Benny and I making our way to crouch on either side of him. Dean shot me a dirty look, and he turned slightly towards Benny.

“What is it?” The vampire asked. Dean nodded his head to the valley at the bottom of the ridge.

“Leviathans,” Dean said. “Took out a small pack of wolves a few minutes ago.”

I shivered, watching as one of the leviathans picked up a severed limb, inspecting it before tossing it to the side. 

“Shit. That was our path, wasn’t it?” Benny asked. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, and I’m not really in the mood to get into a fight with a bunch of leviathans right now,” he said. 

“I don’t blame you, chief,” Benny agreed. “But what are we going to do now?”

I glanced to the left, eyes roaming the cliff side. It was high above the creatures below, and it fed to another cliff edge on the other side. It would be above our path, but most likely would run parallel alongside it. There seemed to be good footwells along the cliffside, and I struggled to get the courage up to speak.

“I have an idea,” I said. Both men looked over at me, interest on Benny’s face and annoyance on Dean’s.

“The adults are talking,” Dean said. 

“Let her talk, chief,” Benny said, patting his friend on the back. “Go ‘head, cher.”

I swallowed. “The side of the cliff: it’s hidden by the tops of the trees. But-” I pointed to the other edge- “if we are careful enough, we could climb across and get to the other landing. I’m guessing the otherside runs parallel to our original path, it’ll just be higher.”

“Smart,” Benny said, giving me a smile. “Real good.”

“How the hell are you going to climb across the side of a damn cliff?” Dean asked, raising a brow. “You can barely hold up your axe.”

I bit my lip. “I’ll manage. And I can, too, hold up my axe. I’m not weak.”

Suddenly I was being shoved onto my back, my hands being pressed into the dirt as Dean held my wrists. He straddled my waist, his face inches from mine.

“Push me off,” he hissed, eyes furiously burning through my skull. I struggled beneath his hold. I was strong, but Dean was stronger, and no matter how much I bucked and pushed and pulled, he wouldn’t budge. 

He let go of me for a moment, and I shoved at his chest, quickly being held down again with one hand while his other held a knife to my throat. 

“You know, it would be so easy to end you right now,” he growled. My eyes widened in fear. “I wouldn’t have to hear your whiny, sniveling voice anymore and see your pathetically hideous face.” 

I couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in my eyes.

“It would put us all out of our misery.”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Benny said, now on his feet. 

“The bitch needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean said, pressing harder. I whimpered, fear clutching my heart in its grasp as he smirked darkly at me. “Don’t you… bitch?” 

“Get off me, Dean,” I said, bucking beneath him again. He laughed, hand squeezing my wrists tighter. “Stop it.”

In a blink of an eye, he had reared the blade back, bringing it shooting back down until it stabbed into the ground beside my head. I flinched away from it, eyes squeezing shut as he was being pulled off me.

“What the hell is your problem?” Benny asked, pushing Dean against a tree. “What the fuck has she ever done to you?”

“What do you mean? Just look at her,” Dean said.

“Give me a reason, chief,” Benny snarled. “Give me one good reason why you terrorize that poor woman.”

Dean hesitated, his mouth agape as he thought for a moment. I was sitting up, hand on my throat as I watched carefully as he closed his mouth and set his jaw, eyes casting downwards.

“That’s what I thought,” Benny muttered, letting him go. Dean took a deep breath, looking up at me for a moment.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” He bent down to pick up his sword, slinging it over his shoulder onto his back before making his way to the cliff side.

Benny helped me to my feet, hands cradling my head as he inspected my neck. There was a small nick from Dean’s blade, but I was relatively unscathed.

“Alright, cher,” Benny began, hands gently resting on my shoulders. “You stick with me, okay? I won’t let Dean touch you again.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding my head as he patted my back. He pulled me in for a quick hug before following after Dean.

***

The next three days had gone by in a blur. We had yet to find Cas, and Dean was getting impatient. It was a constant surge of monsters and a constant physical battle with ourselves as we pushed through the fights, trying to swallow back our bile at the blood and guts that inevitably found itself onto our clothes.

I was washing up in the river, a little way through the trees from a camp we had set up for the night. I had carefully peeled off my bloodstained clothes, washing my body as best I could with the river’s water before attempting to clean my jeans and shirt. I scrubbed at them until the blood was simply an ugly stain, tossing the garments onto a nearby rock to dry. I was midway running water over my hair when suddenly arms were lifting me up, eliciting a squeal from my lips. A hand clamped over my mouth and I was dragged back behind the rocks. I struggled in the arms of my captor, rearing my head back and bashing it into their nose. They grunted, and they let go.

I spun around, fists raised, eyes widening.

“Dean? What the hell?” I asked, covering my stomach. My chest was still covered by my bra, and the water was deep enough to cover the bottom half of me, but I felt naked under Dean’s intense gaze. I glance around, spotting my clothes on the boulder. I grabbed at them, pulling the shirt over my head before my jeans were ripped away from me and thrown to the side. “Hey!”

His lips crashed against mine in a bruising force, hand tangling in my hair as he snaked an arm around my waist, crushing my body against his. My hands flew to his chest and I tried to push him away, confusion and fear coursing through my veins as he wouldn’t let go.

I bit down on his lip, and he reared back with a small yelp, touching where blood began to seep from the bite. I pulled my shirt on as he was distracted and backed away from him, arms curling around my torso.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, wiping away the blood. I stared at him, mouth dropping.

“What the fuck was that?” I yelled. He raised a brow. “You don’t just come onto a girl like that! Especially after treating her like you treat me!”

“I… huh?”

“Are you seriously playing dumb right now?” I asked, brows drawing together. “You can’t be that fucking idiotic.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? For everything. But here’s the thing,” he said, moving closer to me. I moved back until I was pressed against the rock. “We’ve been here for almost a year, right? Neither of us have gotten any within that time. You just looked hot down here in the water, and I see the way you look at me sometimes so I just thought, ‘hey, why not?’” 

How long had I dreamed a moment like this would happen? Too many times. More than I’d care to admit. But did I really want to be with Dean for the first time like this? With him hating my guts, simply wanting a quick fuck in Purgatory pf all places? Fuck no.

I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re shitting me.”

“No.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair. “I… I can’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth right now. You think I’m hideous! You’ve said so multiple times, so you’re full of shit! And just so you know, you don’t just jump onto a girl and assume she wants the same thing you do. Besides, who wouldn’t be attracted to you, for fuck’s sake? It doesn’t mean I want to fuck you! God, Dean! You hate me!”

“I don’t hate you…”

“Yes, you do! You’ve bullied me like a damn middle schooler since the moment you met me!”

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Fine. You know what? Forget it.” He moved past me, stopping for a second. “And all have you know, it’s not that I hate you. It’s just that I can’t stand to be around you for more than ten minutes without wanting to put a gun in my mouth. And you’re right, I do think you’re hideous, and my god does your personality make you fucking ugly inside and out. If you don’t want work done on your face, at least work on that. Maybe then you could find someone willing to put up with you.”

He left then, leaving me speechless. I collapsed against the rock, silent sobs racking my body. I hated myself, and Dean thrived on that fact. I had no idea what I had ever done to him, nor did I understand how someone could be so cruel. But there was one thing I did know for sure; Dean Winchester was absolutely hell bent on breaking me.

***

I combed my hair out with my fingers, eyes staring out over the water. 

It was nearly a week after my confrontation with Dean, and he had gone back to ignoring me. I was okay with it, not minding the silence after the cruel words. I always relied on my friendship with Benny to get me through, but it seemed as though he was pulling away from me, too.

I sighed, my hands finding themselves on the dirt beneath me. They were filthy, no matter how many times I scrubbed at them with moss and water, the blood and mud wouldn’t rid itself from my skin.

Suddenly, something went soaring through the air in front of my face, a blade lodging itself in the tree beside me. I fell back, flattening myself on the ground as I looked to the side, seeing Dean standing twenty feet from me, a dark smirk on his face, Benny shaking his head behind him.

“What the hell, Dean!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet. “You could’ve killed me!”

“But I didn’t,” he said, walking towards me. He reached past me, eyes locked on mine as he retrieved the knife from the bark. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be so… are you fucking with me?” I asked, watching as he turned around and shrugged off his jacket. 

“Just drop it, cher,” Benny said, rolling his eyes. I set my jaw and turned away, swallowing back the anger brewing inside my chest. I folded my arms over each other, biting down on my tongue until I drew blood. “I’m going to scout the area. See if I can’t find a better place to set up camp.”

I inwardly groaned at the thought of being alone with Dean, and watched from the corner of my eye as Benny made his way through the trees, Dean leaning against one to stare at me. He was twirling his blade around in his fingers, his smirk not fading from his face. I shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Dean began.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I muttered. He stopped twirling the knife, smirk fading to replace his expression with a stoic, hard one. 

“I’ll give you one more chance at this, Y/N,” he said. He walked toward me slowly, and I backed away a bit. 

“At what?” I asked, now pressed against a tree. Dean didn’t stop moving until he could press his palm against the tree, leaning into it as he bent down until he was eye level with me.

“I think you know.” His eyes flickered down to my lips, his tongue running out to wet his own. I shivered as he lowered his face to the side of my head, nose pressing into my hair to take a deep breath in. 

“Dean, please, I don’t-”

“You know, I bet you’re still a virgin,” he interrupted, ignoring my words. I tried pushing against his chest but he took my hands in his, bringing them behind my back and crushing me further into the tree. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with anyone. Although, I’m not surprised.”

“Dean, stop it,” I said harshly, but once again my words went unheard, and he nipped my collarbone.

“Fuck, a virgin pussy sounds so good right now.”

“I said stop, Dean!” I cried, pushing harder against him. He retaliated, quickly holding both of my hands in one of his in order to press against my throat with the other.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you said,” he hissed. “The only reason you’re alive is because of me. Face it, you wouldn’t have made it on your own, and the only reason that I haven’t killed you myself yet is because Sam would kill me when we get back.” He crushed his lips to mine, all teeth and rough pressure as he shoved his tongue into my mouth. He rolled his hips against me, and my stomach churned. “I haven’t had any in a long time, Y/N. I need to let off some steam, and you owe me.” He pulled back to look into my teary eyes. “Answer me this… are you a virgin?”

I clenched my jaw. “Let go of me.”

He growled and slapped me, a yelp escaping my lips as he gripped my chin, bashing my head back against the bark. “I will find out one way or another, I’m just curious.”

I swallowed, teeth sinking into my tongue. I’ve had two boyfriends in the past, if I could even call them that. I had only gone on a few dates with both of them, but never went further than second base. I was twenty-four and never worried about still being a virgin. 

Until now.

I didn’t want my first time being like this; raped in purgatory by the man who hates me, and who I was utterly afraid of; raped by a man I had unwillingly fallen in love with.

I gave a short nod, and he smiled darkly. “Not surprising, but definitely exciting.” 

“Dean, please don’t do this,” I said, struggling against his hold. “Please.”

“Benny will be back soon, so we need to make this quick,” he said. And suddenly, his hand was off my throat and on the button of my jeans. 

“No!” I snarled, trying to kick at him, but he wedged his knee between my legs, and I was completely trapped. 

His hand was inside my pants and down the front of my panties without hesitation, and I cringed at the thought of the dirt and blood that coated both of our skin. His fingers ran through my folds, thumb finding my clit quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut as nausea washed over me, and my body went rigid at the alien feeling of someone else’s hands down there. A tear trickled down my cheek, and Dean bent forward to lick it up.

“Come on, baby,” he cooed mockingly. “Just go with it. There’s nothing you can do to stop it anyway.”

I reared back as far as I could to spit in his face. He flinched back in surprise, his face morphing from cocky and dark to menacing, and I was thrown to the ground roughly within a second, Dean quickly hovering over me and holding me down before I could move away.

“I was trying to make this better for you, I truly was,” he said, beginning to undo his belt. I shuddered and squirmed beneath him. “But now, you’ve just pissed me off. So I don’t give a fuck if you’re ready or not.”

He shoved his jeans down far enough to free his cock from his boxers, moving back to tear at my own jeans and panties and drag them down my legs. I flipped around and began crawling away, but he gripped my ankle and turned me around onto my back.

“I want to see you,” he grunted, hands spreading my legs enough for him to fit between them. I looked down at his prick, eyes widening as I saw the size of him, and he laughed. “You’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

He stroked himself a few times before lining up with my entrance. I didn’t stop struggling, hands trying to claw at his face, my eyes blurring from my tears. He gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands while the other held himself until the tip was resting against me, and then he moved his hand to grip my waist harshly. 

He forced himself inside me in one painful thrust, and a scream of pain was ripped from my throat. Dean smirked, relishing in the fact he had just torn through my virginity with such cruelty and violence. He groaned as he began to move. My hands slumped against him, knowing it was no use. He was much stronger than me, and he had already gotten what he wanted.

“I knew you’d like this,” he hissed in my ear, pulling out just to snap back in. “A bitch born to take a cock. My cock.”

The last shred of my innocence was taken within a second, and each time he shoved himself inside me, it took everything in me not to burst into tears. I turned my face away from him, eyes squeezed as tight as I could in order to try and disassociate myself, praying that this was simply but a dream. 

But as he hiked up my leg around his waist to angle himself deeper inside me, I knew it wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare, one born to tear down my walls and shatter the last of my will. I knew Dean Winchester was intent on breaking me, but I didn’t know he’d take it to such extremes.

“Shit,” he cursed, plunging himself deeper and deeper with each thrust until he couldn’t go any further. I bit my lip to keep in my cries of pain, nails sinking into the palms of my hand.

His hips began to stutter, his movements choppy and I knew he was close. I dug my nails in deeper until I felt blood trickle from my fingers. His hand gripped my jaw, turning my head.

“Look at me,” he growled, holding himself to the hilt inside me until I complied. He smirked at the tears that trickled from my eyes, and slammed himself home once, twice, three more times before he came. He held his hips flush to my pelvis, eyes still locked with mine as he spilled himself inside me. 

He gave a few more lazy humps, making sure he didn’t waste a single drop of his come before slipping out, sitting back on his haunches and taking a deep breath. “Wow.”

I sniffled, scooting as far away as possible as I pulled up my panties and jeans with shaky hands, trying to hold back the sobs and failing. I brought my hand up to my mouth, biting my sleeve to stifle the cries threatening to echo off the trees, and brought my knees up to my chest.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Dean said smiling. He laughed, shaking his head. “You felt better than I thought.” He sighed, standing up then and looked down at me. “Benny will be back soon. So pull yourself together before then. Say one word to him about this, I’ll kill you.”

I nodded in understanding, and he grunted.

He grabbed his axe and turned away, trudging off into the woods for his usual search for firewood.

In the five minutes he was gone, I took the time to pack up the few belongings I had, and without turning back, I ran for the hills.

Two Years Later

The nightmares never faded.

They had become less frequent, yet every few days or so, I’d run from the images inside my own head, battling demons within me instead of on the battlefield. Being scared of someone or something is one thing, but being scared of your own mind, your own dreams, was an entirely different thing, and it took strength to lay down and risk the possibility of reliving old trauma.

Yet, it was inevitable, after everything that had happened. Therapy helped, so did the anti-depressants and anxiety pills I took each night. But the truth of the matter was, the memories of Purgatory were always there, and the guilt and shame never faded, it simply turned into a dull ache that never truly went away.

Running from Dean, I was sore and bleeding, and all I cared about was keeping as much distance between him and I as possible. I listened to the whispers of the monsters, making sure I was never too close. 

Dean got out before I did, just two months after I ran, and it was only a few days later that I found the portal. I didn’t even try to contact Sam, because where Sam went, Dean went. 

Instead, I changed my name and set up a life for myself in a small town up in the mountains of West Virginia. I got a job at a police station as a victim advocate, got an apartment, and never once looked back. 

Quitting hunting wasn’t easy, and every once in a while I’d take a case close to home. But I typically stayed within the state, not wanting to risk running into the brothers on a hunt. 

Over those two years, I slowly began to rebuild my walls. However, in a split second, it all came crumbling down again.

It was a Monday afternoon in October. A cool front had washed over the Virginias and Maryland, finally carrying a crisp, sweet wind to cool our skin from the sweltering heat of the summer.

I was walking back to the station from lunch, having ran to a sandwich shop a block away. I was chewing on my lip and thinking about a particular case when I saw it; the sleek black coat of the Impala.

I felt my stomach drop, and I felt like I would be sick. Surely it couldn’t be the brothers. Other people had this particular car, too. But my fears were confirmed when the door to the station opened, and Sam walked out into the wind, leaves scattering around his feet, Dean right behind him. 

I was frozen with fear. All the progress I had made had diminished in a second. I wanted to turn and run the other way. I wanted to duck into the alley and wait until they were gone. But I couldn’t move. My limbs were suddenly planted and my body lost the ability to move as the man who had made my life hell for years and haunted my dreams stepped into the sun. 

Sam looked around as Dean led the way to the Impala. There was nothing I could do as his eyes landed on me, the surprised look on his face making me wince, the fearful one on mine catching him off guard.

“Y/N?” He asked. I saw Dean stiffen at the sound of my name, and I suddenly regained the ability to move. I spun on my heel and rushed into the alley, hoping to make it around to the back of the station and slip inside unseen. But Sam’s long legs made it so he was faster than me, and no amount of sprinting could keep me far enough away. He stepped in front of me, and my eyes widened. “Y/N… I… You’re alive.”

I swallowed thickly, looking over my shoulder. I tensed as I saw Dean at the end of the alley, his face hard and jaw clenched as he met my eyes. I looked back at Sam, shaking my head and stepping around him.

“I have to get back to work,” I said, trying to push past him.

“Wait!” He said, gripping my arm. I flinched, and he let go immediately.

“Sam,” I said, looking up at him. He tilted his head in confusion at the look of defeat on my face. “Please.”

“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “Dean said you were dead. That you died when you were in Purgatory.”

“A part of me did,” I admitted. Sam’s face darkened at my words, and I looked away. “And if you love me, you’d stay away from me. For good.”

“I thought I lost my best friend, Y/N,” Sam said. “I can’t just let you go now, knowing you’re alive.”

“Sam, please,” I begged. “Please.”

“Why?” He demanded.

“Just let her be, Sam.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I looked back over towards Sam. Dean had caught up to us and was standing beside his brother now, a dark look on his face. His stare was icy, and it sent shivers down my spine. I shivered when he licked his lips, eyes raking up and down my body and suddenly I was back in Purgatory, his predatory gaze sending me reeling to a time of pain and misery.

“Y/N!” 

I jumped, realizing Sam had been trying to get my attention for some time now. I looked up at him, worrying my lip, tears filling my eyes. “Sam, I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Why did Dean lie? What the hell happened in Purgatory?” He asked.

“Dean didn’t…” I trailed off, rolling my eyes with a scoff. “No, I guess he wouldn’t tell you what happened.”

“Y/N,” Dean warned, stare turning deadly.

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Y/N, you can tell me anything.”

“No, I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Your brother will kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I won’t let him,” Sam said. “Now please, I miss my best friend. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me,” I said. “Not anymore. Purgatory was shitty in itself, but Dean…”

I was suddenly pushed up against the brick wall, a yelp escaping me as Dean’s hand wrapped around my throat, his body pressed against mine. I shivered in fear, visibly shaking as his lips curled into a snarl.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, trying to pry his brother off me.

“What did I tell you would happen if you told anyone?” Dean hissed. I beat at his hands, trying to kick out at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ll kill ‘ya,” he said. “I’ll do it right now. Don’t. Say. A. Word.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks, and Sam was able to tear Dean off me, pushing him up against the opposite wall.

“What the fuck?” He yelled. He pushed off his brother, turning towards me, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. His voice softened then. “Are you okay?”

“I really need to… to get back to work,” I whispered. I was still shaking, and Sam’s fingers tightened slightly, almost as if he was trying to steady me.

“Can I come see you after work? I’ll meet you here and walk you home?” 

I glanced over Sam’s shoulder towards Dean. His jaw was set, and he gave a shake of his head.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I murmured. I watched a smirk grow on Dean’s face, and I shivered.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t care. I’ll meet you here, okay? At five?”

I nodded.

“Okay. See you then.” He turned slightly. “He won’t be coming, don’t worry.”

The brothers stared at each other intently, and I scurried off as quick as I could, clutching the brown bag in my hand to my chest, not trusting my hands not to shake.

It was my luck that they would end up here, out of all the towns and all the cases in the continental U.S., they had to end up here. There was one thing I was sure about; I wouldn’t be meeting Sam, nor would I be going back to work. I forgot all about my few belongings in the office, beelining to my car, readying myself to pack and be out of town by tonight.

***

I didn’t have much in terms of belongings. It didn’t take long to pack, and I had no set destination. If I had a set destination, I could be found. 

I was taping up the few boxes I had, picking up a few odds and ends, figuring I would leave the furniture and have the building owner sell it. Just as I was finishing, three sound knocks were rapped on my door.

I froze. 

I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I hadn’t made any friends since moving to town. No one would be coming here unannounced. No one except the Winchesters. They had their ways of finding where I lived. Sam probably asked around the station.

“Fucking Sam,” I muttered to myself. I pushed myself up off the floor, stalking to my front door. “So not cool.”

I unlocked the door, keeping the deadbolt in, before opening it.

My heart jumped to my throat.

“Dean?” I asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You didn’t show up to your meet-up with Sammy,” he said. He glanced around my door, stuffing his hands in his pockets, nodding. “Simple and plain. It suits you.”

“Go away, Dean,” I said. “I have cop friends and I’m not afraid to call them. Just go.”

Dean laughed. “Please. We both know you’re not friends with any of them. Besides, what would you tell them? You know what will happen if you say anything.”

“Fuck off, Dean,” I hissed. I went to close the door, but Dean was quick to stick his foot out, wedging it between the door and the frame.

“Nuh uh uh,” he tsked. “Won’t you invite me in, little pig?”

I swallowed. “No.”

“Oh, but why?” He asked, smirking. “You scared?”

I lifted my chin, standing up straighter. “No.”

He chuckled darkly, bending slightly to meet my eye level. “I think we both know that’s a lie, little pig.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Dean,” I hissed. I kicked at his foot sharply, unwedging it, promptly slamming my door shut in the process, turning the lock. I backed away from the door, feeling under the small table near the front door for my gun.

I screamed as my door was kicked in, wood splintering off the frame. Dean laughed, stepping past the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him. It didn’t quite close all the way, but enough so Dean could slip the chain into its lock.

“Here’s Johnny,” he teased, smiling. My eyes widened, and I gripped the gun, ripping it from its confinement, lifting my arm to shoot. Dean moved quickly, knocking the gun from my hand, pushing me back against the wall. He thrusted forward, crashing his lips to mine in a sloppy kiss.

“Miss me?”

“Get away from me!” I screeched. “Help! Somebody please help me!”

I sobbed as he fisted his hand in my hair, bashing my head back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed. “Almost telling Sammy about our little roll around. What did I tell you, hmm? Have you told anyone else?”

My eyes were blurred from the tears. Somehow my nightmares were coming true. Somehow hell had shown up at my front door, rearing its ugly head and laughing as fear twisted my insides and made my head spin. What had I done to deserve this?

“No,” I said. “I haven’t told anyone. I won’t tell anyone. Please just leave me alone.”

He ran a hand down my face, thumb smearing my tears across my skin. “Oh, but I can’t do that. You disobeyed me. You made Sam skeptical. You must be punished.”

“No,” I cried. “Please, Dean. Please don’t do this.”

He gripped my hair tighter, jerking me down the hall, my fists beating against him the whole time, fighting, kicking, screaming. He simply bent down, picking me up, and carried me into my room. He threw me onto my bed, hands gripping my thighs as he flipped me over onto my stomach.

“Now, bad girls must be punished,” he said. He reached underneath me, fingers unbuttoning my jeans. I kicked back at him, my heel meeting the fleshy part of his thigh. He grunted, and I clawed away from him, but he simply pulled me back down. “Well, that just made things so much worse for you.”

He yanked my jeans down, throwing them somewhere in the room, hands tearing at my simple cotton panties. Tears blurred my vision, and I desperately tried to crawl away. I fisted my hands on the mattress, trying to somehow escape from his hold. 

I cried out as his palm collided with my ass.

“Tell me, have you been with anyone else since me?” He asked. I sobbed, screeching behind clenched teeth as he hit me again. “Answer me, bitch.”

“No,” I said. He laughed. I hadn’t heard him take off his belt, but I heard the snap as he pulled it taut. “No, no, no.”

“Oh, yes,” he laughed. He brought the belt down, letting it smack against my bare skin. The sting radiated through my back. Dean was strong, and each time his arm was brought down, the belt would send another striking shot of fire through my body. I was frozen with pain and fear. Dean didn’t have to hold me down after a while. I couldn’t move. “This is for your own good, Y/n.”

I didn’t know how long he struck me. Over, and over, and over he striked, and I lost count after twenty. My hands were clenched in the mattress cover, tears soaking the fabric beneath me, clouding my vision.

I finally heard him throw the belt aside, and his hands curled around my hips, lifting my bottom into the air gently. He softly caressed my skin, and I jumped when I felt his lips touch the welts. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He rubbed my lower back slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

I sunk my teeth into my lower lip. I froze, not sure what I was supposed to do. I knew moving was out of the question. I was in too much pain to move. Confusion sunk into my bones as he slowly kissed up my back, until he was hovering over me.

He turned me slowly, gently placing me on my back, eyes looking down at me. He tilted his head, thumb wiping away my tears. “Hey, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Don’t cry?” I whispered. “How do you expect me to be okay with all of this, Dean? You broke me in Purgatory. You’ve haunted my dreams for the past two years. Then you do this? Just kill me and get it over with. Please.”

He shook his head, furrowing his brows. “I’m not here to kill you. I actually, believe it or not, came to apologize. But as soon as you opened the door I just… I don’t know what came over me.”

“Like I believe that,” I hissed. “Just get the fuck out.”

His jaw ticked, and suddenly his resolve faded. For a second I saw remorse, and now? Fire raged behind his leaf green eyes. I felt his whole body tense against me. I felt him… grow… beneath me.

“Fuck no,” I said. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. I rolled away from him, landing on my back on the wood floor. I cried out as my raw skin made impact, but I pushed myself up quickly. Dean was up now, his eyes hard and piercing. 

“Come here, little pig,” he snarled. I spun and dashed towards the bathroom. He leaped over the bed after me, but I was already inside, locking the door quickly. I heard shuffling, and I knew I needed to think fast. I spotted the window and yanked my robe off the hook, slipping it on. I stepped onto the toilet, pushed the window open, and peered down the three flights my apartment was up. I swallowed thickly, glancing back at the bathroom door. The doorknob was jiggling, and I knew he was picking the lock. Mustering up the courage, I hoisted myself up and swung my legs over. The door suddenly burst open, our eyes locking.

“Don’t you dare,” he said. I took a deep breath and looked down again. Just as he lunged forward, I let go, feeling the rush of air and my heart plummet to my stomach. My eyes were wide as I watched the ground rush up on me all too quickly. I tried ducking my shoulder to attempt to roll, hopefully saving my legs and head in the process, but I couldn’t quite get there. I felt something snap as I hit the ground, a sickening crunch sounding in my ears as I landed on my side. 

“Y/n!”

That voice was different. That voice was angelic... kind. Sam.

“Oh my god,” he said. He bent down, hands cradling my face as he looked into my eyes. “Hey, stay with me. Are you alright? Jesus- of course you’re not alright, you jumped from a fucking window to get away from my brother. God, Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why does he hate me so?” I whimpered before everything went dark.

***

“Should she be asleep this long?”

“Her body is healing. It’s up to her now.”

***

“Get the fuck out.”

“Sam… I don’t know what happened.”

“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t come up with these-these lame ass excuses. I saw what you did, and I have an idea about purgatory. Now, for the last time, get the fuck out.”

***

“She will stay with me.”

“And you are?”

“Her brother.”

***

I jolted awake. My body was on fire, my head pounding with a dull ache. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light above my head. A beeping sound came from my right, and a quick glance showed an EKG meter. A fucking hospital.

My shoulder was bandaged and arm in a sling. My knee had a brace on it. My behind felt raw as shit.

“Fuck,” I muttered as I tried to sit up.

“Y/n! Thank God.”

I jumped at the sound of a voice. 

“Sam.”

“God, Y/n… I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him.

“No, but I should have known. I should have done something. God, I can’t believe it.”

I sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on the scratchy blanket that was laid over me. I furrowed my brows.

“Sam… did Dean tell you what happened in purgatory?”

Sam swallowed thickly. “No. But I can guess.”

I nodded slowly. “He told me he’d kill me if I ever told anyone.”

“Have you?” Sam asked.

“My therapist,” I replied.

“A therapist?”

“Yeah. I needed one,” I said. “I was… broken when I got out. I was getting so much better, Sam. I felt like me again. Sure, I still had the nightmares sometimes but… I wasn’t always looking over my shoulder.” My lip wobbled as I fought back tears. “Damn him.”

“God, Y/n/n. I can’t believe it. It just seems so… not Dean,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sam, I know you mean well, but please stop saying sorry,” I said. He smiled and blushed.

“Sorry.” He cringed. I laughed.

“Stop it,” I told him, pushing his shoulder lightly. He laughed too, grabbing my hand. He kissed my knuckles.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” I told him. “But I knew that where you went, Dean went.”

“I understand,” he said.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

Sam and I both looked at the door, a plump woman in a white lab coat standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was piled high on her head, glasses pristinely balanced on her nose, lips lined with deep red lipstick. She looked like a T.V. doctor, not a doctor in middle-of-nowhere West Virginia.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She checked my vitals and IV bag.

“Sore,” I replied.

“Your brother here has offered to take you home,” she said. I looked pointedly at Sam who shrugged sheepishly. “Look here.”

She shined a light into my eyes, checked my bandages, and determined that I could go home as long as I was supervised for 48 hours. I silently wondered where Dean was, hoping I wasn’t going to see him. If Sam was taking me home, who knows what would happen? Dean knew where I lived. But if Sam was there, perhaps he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything.

***

“Are you alright?”

Sam gently placed me onto the motel bed, careful not to hurt me. His brows were furrowed in worry and his lips were pursed into a frown. I let out a shaky laugh.

“No,” I said. “But I’ll get there.”

“Y/n, I’m so-”

“Stop it!” I scolded. “What did I say?”

“Not to apologize anymore?” He said slowly.

“That’s correct,” I said. I laid back onto the pillows, which were worn, but on my sore shoulder and back, they honestly didn’t feel too bad. “Now, mama needs to rest.”

Sam snorted. “Okay… mama.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t mock me, Samuel.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, mama,” he said. “I’ll call Cas. He can heal you.”

I perked up at Castiel’s name. The gentle angel and I had been good friends. I heard whispers about him too, while in purgatory that is. I shivered at the thought of that place and…

No. I wouldn’t think about that now. I was safe with Sam. Surely Dean couldn’t find us here. Right? Sam would have taken measures to keep him from doing so.

“Hey, Cas. It’s Sam. Listen…”

Sam’s voice trailed off as he stepped outside the room, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly, the room turned eerie. The air conditioner hummed loudly under the window, producing some sound in the empty room. It was confining. I shifted on the bed, wincing as my shoulder moved in an odd way. I adjusted my sling to a more comfortable position. I hated these things.

I sighed deeply, glancing towards the door again. I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes. Alone. It wasn’t an odd sensation to me. I had been alone for the last two years. But I had slipped so easily back into the comfortable familiarity that was once me and Sam. I had missed him so much. He was my best friend, my confidant. Being around him again was liberating. It lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Telling someone what had happened in purgatory, besides a therapist, lifted a weight off my shoulders.

Of course, Dean would kill me if he knew. But it felt good to get it out, not have it bottled up. Dr. Ramirez was great, of course. But she wasn’t Sam. Wasn’t a friend. 

However, now that the room was empty apart from me, the only sounds of the air unit and the springs of the old bed creaking, I was left alone with my thoughts. Vivid images of Dean flashed before my eyes. Of purgatory, across the street at work, the alley, my apartment. Damn him. Damn him for abusing me so. Damn him for not caring. Damn him for giving me a false sense of hope when he spared a silver of remorse. And damn me for loving him.

Did I still? No, I didn’t think so. Not the Dean who hates me. Who hurt me and raped me and tormented me. Not that Dean. Perhaps the Dean who loved his little brother beyond comprehension. The Dean who would throw himself in the line of fire for a stranger. The Dean who sacrificed everything for the world, the world that was so cruel to him. 

Fuck. Of course I still loved that Dean. It was like two separate fucking people. A Dean who would light up at the sight of pie and tell you everything about a band he liked simply because he wanted to share something he loved with you. A Dean who was so selfless, you would need to make sure he wouldn’t go off and get himself killed for absolutely no reason but to save a fucking dog. He would have one look on his face, and then turn to me. That look would turn cold. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, would turn to ice in a split second. That voice that dripped of rum and sticky honey tore through my heart like daggers in ice. How could someone be so cruel? 

A sob escaped my lips. I was so tired of crying. I hated crying. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand from my good arm. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I didn’t want to think anymore. 

Luckily, Sam opened the door then. It made me jump slightly. Castiel was behind him. I grinned.

“Cas.”

“Y/n,” he said warmly. He walked over to the bedside. He rested a hand on my good shoulder. Cas wasn’t one for touchy-feely shit. But with me, he was always more comfortable with it.

“I’m going to heal you,” he said matter-of-factly. I gave him a nod, a light shining from his hand. A warmth filled me, starting from my head and reaching to the tips of my toes, and suddenly I felt better. I gave him a grin, which faltered at the look on his face. 

“Cas?” I asked. “What is it?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “It’s… it’s a curse.”

“What is?” Sam questioned. He stood up from his seat at the small table by the window. I glanced at him.

“You have had a curse placed on you. An old one. I’ve seen it before, though. In heaven,” Castiel said. “I’m not sure why I hadn’t seen it before now. Perhaps since I hadn’t had to heal you before.”

“A curse in heaven?” I asked.

“It was designed by the archangels. It was to keep soulmates apart.”

“What?” Sam said. “Soulmates? Surely you’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Cas said. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

Sam furrowed his brows at that. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Okay, so a curse. What kind of curse?” I asked. “Who’s my soulmate?”

“The curse is complicated. It can only be placed on one soulmate, and the cursed mate would need to be an interference with a plan from heaven or God himself. ”

“What sort of interference?” Sam asked. Cas hummed.

“Y/n must have stood in the way of her soulmate’s destiny. Her path must cross with them, meaning that she would have altered the path chosen for her mate by heaven. The curse makes it so one of the soulmates hates the other for no particular reason. They can be downright evil towards them. Y/n’s soulmate, if she ever comes across them, may even want to kill her. The curse causes one of the soulmates to do terrible things to the other. They can act one way, and their soulmate walks into the room, suddenly they are filled with an unexplainable rage. There are times where the soulmate can feel remorse or even come to love the one who was cursed. However, the second they lie eyes on the cursed soulmate, their hatred returns.”

Holy fuck.

“If you don’t mind, Y/n,” Cas continued. “Would you mind letting me touch your soul? It should tell me who your soulmate is. I know every path for every human soul. I should be able to see.”

“I… I think I may know who it is,” I said softly. Suddenly my blood ran cold. It felt as if the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in a single second. Soulmate may want to kill me. They will hate me. Do terrible things to me. They are suddenly remorseful, but once again turn evil once they lie eyes on me. Fucking hell.

“Who?” Castiel asked. I looked to Sam, who was staring at the ground. I saw it dawn on him, saw the realization flash across his face. His head snapped up to mine.

“Dean.”

***

“Are you fucking joking?”

I flinched at his words. Dean stared- no, glared- at me from his chair. He was chained to a chair in the dungeon. “Precaution” Sam had said. Dean wasn’t too happy with it. I sat in a chair about six feet from him, right outside the devil’s trap. His lip curled into a snarl.

“I’ll fucking kill myself if this bitch is my so called soulmate.”

“I’ve already touched her soul, Dean,” Castiel said. “Just to be sure.”

“Okay? And?” Dean prompted.

“Not only is she cursed, but she’s your soulmate.”

“Fucking hell,” he groaned.

“The archangels placed the curse on her at birth. When they found out she was to be your soulmate, they cursed her in order to keep her from interfering with their plan to have you as Michael’s vessel. If she wasn’t cursed, they foresaw the two of you already together; married and two children.”

My heart ached. I could have had that? Instead, my soulmate had abused, raped, and threatened to kill me on multiple occasions. Great.

“Gag,” Dean said. He spit at the ground towards me. “You told them. You know what would happen if you did. You’re fucking dead.”

“Sam,” I said quietly. I looked up at him. He gently placed a hand at the back of my head in a comforting gesture.

“It’s alright,” he said.

“Now, there is a way to remove the curse. It is painful, and tedious, but it may allow you two to venture forth into a soulmate’s relationship.”

“Fuck that.”

“I can’t.”

Although said at the same time, all eyes turned to me.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Cas asked. Sam sighed.

“Cas, not now.”

“I mean I can’t be with someone who-who was so cruel to me. You don’t know the specifics of purgatory,” I muttered. I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought. My lip threatened to wobble. I sunk my teeth into it. “When this is done, I don’t know if I can be here anymore.”

“Y/n,” Sam said. “When this curse is lifted, the Dean who did those things to you will not exist.”

“It’s true,” Cas said. “The curse alters your soulmate in a way that they’re unrecognizable. It turns their personality completely sour, turning them into a new person. The Dean that will be shown to you when this is over will be the real Dean, the Dean you saw when you weren’t near him. When you’re cursed, it’s like he’s possessed by an alien body.”

“But it’s still his face. His hands. His… everything.” I shuddered. 

“That was fun, wasn’t sweetheart?” Dean said. “I still remember how you felt. Tight virgin… Mmmm. Once I’m free of these chains, I may take you again. Maybe I’ll claim your ass this time.

“Enough, Dean!” Sam barked loudly. “Cas.”

“You ready, Y/n?” Castiel asked. I looked up at him, to Dean, and back again.

“Yeah, just one thing first-” I looked at Dean, right in the eye- “Go to hell you son of a bitch.”

Then Castiel’s hands were on the sides of my head, a blinding pain searing behind my eyes, and all I saw was black.

***

“Sam, how am I supposed to live with it?”

“You just do. It wasn’t you. It was the fucking archangels. They did this to her. Not you.”

“It was still… me. I just couldn’t stop it. God, I can’t believe I…”

“Hey. Stop it. I mean it, okay? You beating yourself up with it will not help you in the end. When she wakes up, she’s going to need us. Okay? She’s going to have to re-learn trust and-and love and learn to trust you.”

“If she wants to leave, we need to let her leave. I don’t blame her if she hates me. You heard what she said, Sam. She said she can’t. And I get it. I understand. I don’t want to put her through anymore pain, okay? She needs to live without fear and without pain and suffering. She’s a good, beautiful person inside and out. She didn’t deserve anything I did to her.”

“It wasn’t you!”

“It was, dammit! It was my hands, my body, my fucking words. God, Sam. We may have been cursed, but it was still me. Okay?”

“You heard Cas. It’s like you were possessed. It wasn’t you. Fucking get it through your thick skull.”

“Tell that to her then. If she believes it, I will. This is about her. Not me.”

I could register their conversation. Feel the dull ache in my head. Smell the faint smell of the lavender incense I used to like to burn. The issue was getting my eyes to open.

With heavy lids, I opened my eyes slowly, struggling to keep them open. The brothers stopped talking and I could feel them staring at me. I groaned as I sat up, rubbing at my temple.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Sam said slowly. “You feeling okay?”

“If you consider feeling like you’ve been hit by a train ‘okay,’” I said. “Fuck.”

I looked up at them both, Sam’s eyes warm and lips curled into a sympathetic smile. I forced myself to look at Dean. His eyes were focused intently on his hands, but I could see his jaw clenched and chest moving quickly as he took rapid breaths. His leg bounced repeatedly. He was nervous?.

He looked up at me finally, taking a deep breath, holding it a moment, before letting it back out. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I replied lowly. 

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sam asked.

“No,” I said quickly. Dean winced, but I ignored it. Like hell I would be left alone with him. “Cas did it? The curse is gone?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, yeah it’s gone. Dean um… Dean’s fixed, I guess you could say.”

“Is he?” I asked bitterly. 

“Y/n,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t have words. I can’t express how sorry I am.” I looked down at my hands. “There aren’t words to describe the guilt I have. I don’t know what to say or do. I’m just so, so sorry.”

I took a deep breath before responding. “At least I know why I loved you for so long.”

That clearly was not what he was expecting to hear. “W-what?”

“Before purgatory, when things didn’t… escalate… I loved you. I loved the you that wasn’t around me. I thought I was fucked up, loving someone who was so cruel to me. But now I know I couldn’t help it. You’re my soulmate. What are the fucking odds?”

His lip quirked slightly. “I… I loved you too. The me that wasn’t around you. It honestly was like two different… me’s essentially. I loved you, and every time I wasn’t around you, I told myself to apologize and fucking fix myself. But then I’d see you and… this anger just consumed me. I couldn’t understand why. And then in purgatory, being around you 24/7, it’s like everything was heightened. I just wanted to make you hurt.”

I flinched and his face softened. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“No, I want to hear this. I want to understand what you were feeling,” I said. “Maybe it will help me… differentiate you from, you know… cursed you.”

He nodded before continuing. “Like I said, being around you constantly made everything worse. It was like the anger and hatred all heightened. So the night that I… hurt you… I wanted to cause you such profound pain. But I didn’t want to kill you. I think deep down, even cursed, I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. Although the curse hated you, I loved you. You were always so gentle and kind. You’re easily one of the smartest people I know. You’re beautiful and funny and innocent. I fell in love with you, and the curse despised that. It wanted to hurt you. And it did. And for that, I can not apologize enough. What I did… it’s unimaginable. I am so sorry, Y/n.”

We simply sat looking at each other for a moment. Sam sat uncomfortably beside Dean. He glanced between the two of us.

“You’re stressing me out, Sam,” I said finally. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but Dean and me.

I cleared my throat and fiddled with the edge of the blanket laid over me. “I… I don’t know what to say, Dean. I really don’t.” 

“Don’t say anything, then,” he murmured.

“I want to forgive and forget. Lord do I want to forget. But this isn’t something you can overcome so easily,” I said. “I was so close to being fixed. I was so much better, but you showing up at my apartment and beating the shit out of me like that… it tore down the foundation I had built back up.”

“I had come to apologize,” he said. “And then I saw you and it all went away.”

“I know,” I told him. “It confused the fuck out of me, your fucking mood swing.”

He whistled. “No shit. It confused me.”

We sat in silence for another moment. I wasn’t scared per se, just uncomfortable. If he was “fixed,” I had nothing to fear. I knew I had nothing to fear from Dean now. However, I would never forget the malice and callousness he showed me for years. That night in purgatory was forever seared into my brain. That trauma and heartache and pain would live with me forever. It didn’t matter if he was fixed or cured or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It still happened. It was still at his hands. That’s not something to simply get over.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” he said softly. “If someday you somehow find it in your heart to forgive me, then that’s your business. I don’t deserve it and I’m not expecting it. But maybe, if you’ll let us try, to start over, someday we could become friends.”

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, Dean.”

I watched his face flash with an emotion I couldn’t quite explain, before masking his emotions. “I understand.”

“Maybe,” I told him. “Don’t bank on it.”

Dean gave me a small smile. “I’m in your hands, Y/n. I’ll be here if you want. And if not, then I respect that.”

I yawned then and Sam stood slowly. “Let’s give her some rest, Dean. She’s had a long week.”

Dean nodded at his brother and gave one last look at me.

“I really am sorry, Y/n. I’ll live with this guilt until the day I die. I hope… I hope you find the happiness and peace you deserve.” He gave me a tight lipped smile and closed the door behind him, evidently taking all weight in the room with him. I let out a deep breath that I had been holding and rubbed at my temples. I laid back onto the pillows, letting my eyes trace designs on the ceiling in the dark of the room.

Sleep found me not long after, and no matter what knowledge I had now, or the safety that was Sam across the hall, I had no control of the nightmares that plagued my dreams and danced behind my eyes. Dean Winchester may have been cured. He may be himself around me now. However, what he did will forever live with me, and no angel cure or spell undoing will ever change that. 

And so, I walked through the valley of darkness that were my dreams, and I battled the demons caused by the man who stayed down the hall from me. Yet I slept, knowing that what tormented me behind closed eyes was no longer alive, and the man who had broken through the chains around my heart all those years ago was back and in the foreground. Though I wasn’t sure what my feelings were towards him now, knowing that what he did to me was the result of an archangel curse, I did know that perhaps someday, once we tread through the tumultuous ground that was fear and contradiction, we may learn to live in peace with one another, even if he had loved me and hated me; even if I had loved him and hated him. Yet the most important thing, the thing that allowed me to rest, if not soundly, but at all, was the fact that he no longer wanted me dead, nor did he want my blood on his hands. 

So though nothing was back to normal, and I didn’t plan on being around Dean anytime soon, perhaps I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. Maybe I could finally find the solace and peace that I deserved. I think the world at least owes me that.

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[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

[citiesalight-writes]

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Characters: 31 (Original Male Character/Danny Phantom Clone), Guys In White

Rating: G

Tags & Warnings: Science Experiments, Cloning

Summary: Waking up suspended in green is not something he felt should be happening, but it was all he'd known. Everything he'd known came to him from nowhere, the ether, given meaning through an unknown source. But even this mysterious well of knowledge left some questions unanswered.

Based on @13thcat​‘s Danny Phantom 31 AU

---

His first taste of consciousness was brief. Weightless, harsh light bleeding through his eyelids, sounds he couldn’t yet understand.

“Sir, we’re detecting an increase in brain activity in the cerebral cortex and thalamus.”

“Subject’s heart rate has also increased. We believe it m…”

His mind faded back into darkness.

-

The second and third times were much the same; his consciousness barely able to cling to awareness for more than a few seconds. Hearing the same muttering voices as before, he felt his mind stir briefly before slipping back under.

-

However, the fourth time things began to change. His mind managed to shake off the deep fog, and awoke to the same weightlessness he’d come to recognize, the same bright lights, the same distorted noises; all things that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Summoning his limited energy, his heavy eyelids fluttered open and he took his first look at the world.

It was blurry; tinted green.

His brow furrowed. What was green?

He didn’t understand where this knowledge came from; mind producing the word without a clear point of origin.

Movement caught his attention, pulling him out of his mind. Shadows— people, his mind supplied—rushed around; the warped sounds increasing as they scrambled.

“Sir! The subject appears to be awake!”

“Status?”

“Oxygen levels and blood pressure stable.”

“No signs of cellular decay.”

“The ectoplasmic to fluid ratio appears to have zero negative effect.”

One of the figures walked forward, a blur of white and brown. It bent down, eyes meeting his own, but still too blurry to be clear.

“Hope this one can hold itself together then.”

His eyes darted around, new instincts screaming at him to not allow a single shadow out of his sight. The noise levels rose as more and more of the white blurs scattered around. It was so much—too much; his mind trying to keep up with the unfamiliar and oh so new sensory inputs bombarding him.

“Subject’s heart rate is spiking! Sir! Destabilization risk rapidly increased to 37%.”

“Sedate it, agent! If all we have to show for our effort is another puddle of slime the Commander will have our heads!”

“Yes sir, injecting sedative.”

He felt fuzzy as the green surrounding him pulsed brightly—turning a vivid neon before he faded back into the darkness.

-

“The subject appears to be conscious again, sir...”

He wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, but the thing that roused him made his face scrunch up in confusion…or was it disgust? He could taste something...bitter? The word came from nowhere, but it felt right, somehow. Something was bitter, but not unbearably so. The new sensory input probably had way more to do with waking him than the taste itself had.

He tried to open his eyes once again, but the next words stopped him cold. A sense of...something rushing up his body like a chill.

“Put it back under, we don’t want to risk any complications at this late of a stage.”

He understood. Somehow his brain linked the sounds to words with meanings, slotting them into his mind like a puzzle he didn’t know he had the answers to.

He understood, but his mind was still slow to grasp what they meant. Any attempt to try and string the meanings together into something that made sense was brought to a halt by a pulse of light before he was yet again pulled back under the haze of unconsciousness. But for the first time, he was looking forward to waking up again.

-

The cycle repeated. Drift into consciousness, listen to what the figures were saying, maybe even discover some new sense or word before he was sedated and the process began anew.

Although the green tint still persisted, his vision had cleared somewhat. Eyes now able to see, every person that crossed his field of view was unique yet similar. Each wore long light green coats, those with longer hair had it tied up and out of the way, and many wore glasses. They all had one thing in common though; dark bruising shadows under their eyes.

Strange…

The (shadow?....no that was a person...) person that caught his eye most was the one referred to as Sir. Their lab coat was rumpled, long brown hair wrapped in a messy bun. Their most noticeable feature was the muddy brown squares always seeming to slide down their nose that did nothing to hide the dark circles bruising their eyes.

He’d figured this was probably the person in charge. He also thought they should probably be the one sleeping instead of him. He didn’t understand why he thought these things.

During his stretches of awareness in the cyclical dance of sleeping and waking, he realized a few things. One; his word comprehension had improved leaps and bounds, mind no longer lagging behind as he listened in on the chatter around him. Two, he had more knowledge about the world than he knew to do with, words and tastes and concepts he couldn’t place an origin to flitted about in his mind. It was strange to him, but he didn’t understand why. 

According to the scientists whose bags were almost as deep as Sir’s, he should be ready for the “final check” within the week, “so long as no more complications arise”. He didn’t know what that meant, but he’d overheard them talking about a procedure. He was to be kept awake for longer and longer durations as they monitored his vitals, all to ensure there would be no issues.

Even with this knowledge, waking up to the green tint—the light and color that always surrounded him (ectoplasmic fluid he’d heard someone say)—being drained from the world around him was jarring. It made him feel a slight twist in his chest, and he didn’t know why.

He blinked, once...twice, and then the feeling of weightlessness left him.

He fell.

The instant his feet touched the ground, his arms shot out to try and steady himself. He collided with a clear barrier—glass? He was in a tube—doing nothing as his legs gave out from under him. Thick liquid bubbled up his throat, his body thrown into a coughing fit as lungs worked to expel the bitter green goo from his airways. After a few tense moments of wheezing, he finally was able to take in greedy lungfuls of air. He was still adjusting to the shift in perspective, and had to close his eyes when a warm clear liquid—water, perhaps?—started spraying him from above. He heard his breathing rattle his chest as he felt the shower wash away the last of the green solution he’d been submerged in.

In, out. He wondered why he hadn’t needed to breathe before. In. Out. The water surrounded him in a strange sort of comfort, the ectoplasm in his...room? was all he’d ever known. After what felt like hours the water shut off. He opened his eyes, blinking away any lingering droplets out of his lashes. He saw the strange people standing before him.

The coats weren’t green, they were white .

Everything, it seemed, was white. From the spotless floors and walls to the shiny tables and chairs and even the computers. Everything was a blinding white. He thought it strange, but didn’t know why. He missed green. The only specks of colors were the people themselves—the scientists, his mind told him.

The sound of hissing shocked him from his thoughts, the mechanical clicking louder than anything he could ever remember hearing. A chill breeze ghosted over his skin from behind as he snapped his head to look over his shoulder, and his mind registered what had once been a room constantly enveloped in shadows was currently as bright as the lab in front of him.

But that wasn’t what caught his attention most. No. Along the wall of the room there were several more pods exactly like the one he was in. Most were empty but a few seemed to be filled with the same green he’d been held in. He blinked a few more times. Those containers... he looked carefully and could just barely make out vague humanoid shapes of varying sizes submerged within.

He didn’t have any time to think before two people in white hazmat suits stood tall before him, their forms blocking the other pods from his line of sight. With stiff movements, they lifted him up and out, gently carrying him to the singular piece of furniture in the room: a tall white bench. They set him down carefully, as if he might shatter with the slightest breeze, quick to place small white squares on his forehead. They repeated this with his wrists, chest—most everywhere on his thin body. He wanted to lean into the contact, but before he could even comprehend what was happening, they pulled away. A large holographic screen appeared beside them, filled with so many numbers and symbols and lines that it made his head swim.

“Vital signs seem stable. Heart rate is holding steady.”

He looked at them, blinking in the bright light of the room, still trying to decipher the information. He startled for a moment as one of the hazmats carefully gripped his chin, tilting it up towards their faces. They produced a strange metal tube and swept a blinding light across his eyes. He tried to pull away, blinking rapidly, but the grip held strong.

“Photopupillary reflex is good.” A snapping sound by his ear made him try to jerk his head, unable to break the strong grip. “As is its response to auditory stimulation,” they said with a sigh, finally letting go of his chin with a glare towards the other hazmat.

He turned his head quickly to try and keep both of them in his field of vision, wary of what they would do if he took his eyes off of them for a moment. His worry was broken after what seemed minutes when one of the hazmats finally spoke again.

“Alright, I need you to nod twice if you can understand me,” said the one who snapped by his ear earlier. There was a moment of hesitation before he complied, turning most of his attention towards them. He couldn’t see the figure’s smile, but their eyes—warm and brown—crinkled in happiness, crows feet more pronounced than before. 

Next to them, the other hazmat—he thought they had hazel eyes—seemed to be taking notes.

“That’s wonderful. Now, we’ve got a few questions for you as well as some sensory and motor control tests we need you to do for us. Think you can do that?” He nodded hesitantly. “Perfect,” the person responded with a smile in their voice.

-

He was directed to lean back until he was laying flat on the bench, his exhausted body still not used to the continuous movement, let alone being awake for so long. He grimaced after he’d collapsed not three steps into a walk around the room; a test to gauge balance and fine motor skills. He felt a tugging, squeezing sensation in his chest, not wanting to disappoint, but Brown-eyes just laughed and told him it was fine, setting him back down on the bench.

They instructed him to follow a finger left to right, another test of holding his arms up and outstretched for a count of ten. That one was harder than he’d thought, arms shaking after only a moment. Deep breathing was another thing they wanted to test, and his heartbeat. He thought he had one at least? He followed the instructions and felt himself tiring further, a small yawn slipping out of his mouth.

“Well, aside from suboptimal muscle mass, low stamina, and some minor dexterity issues, your test results were good—Great even! Miles better than we expected, in all honesty.” Hazel-eyes removed the white patches from his body while Brown-eyes talked to him, praise in their voice. He saw as the lines of the strange screen went flat and the numbers dropped to zero. Brown-eyes continued, “Now I’m sure you’re tired so w-”

There was the click as the door unlocked, followed by an airy woosh. Both hazmats stood up, ramrod straight, looking to the entrance. He felt cold, a shiver finding its way down his slight frame. Brown-eyes was the one to respond first. “Sir, we were just finishing up the testing.” 

He followed their gazes, his eyes widening as Sir walked into the room with an air of authority and a heavy step. Their coat was also pure white, no longer stained with a green tinge from the ectoplasm. Their bun had more fly-aways than usual, but what really caught his attention was their glasses—no longer were they a muddy brown but rather a bright, bold, fire engine red. Their dark circles seemed more pronounced too. They looked tired. 

“You can leave then,” Sir called with a wave of his hand. Instantly the two were rushing out the door, leaving him alone with Sir. He watched as they circled around him, their icy blue eyes sending a rush of...something through him. He felt like he was being analyzed, a calculating glare hungrily staring at all the data he could provide...

He liked Brown-eyes better, he decided.

“Its muscle tone is minimal, suggesting inadequate strength, with a minor twitch in the left hand, but that is not unusual… Some cosmetic defects present, but that can be overlooked for now...” They spoke aloud but he understood the words weren’t directed towards him. Sir circled around him like a predator with its prey for a moment longer before speaking with a slight grin. “Overall, acceptable.” Coming to a stop in front of him, Sir held their arms behind their back, standing tall and proud. “Usually we’d wait before testing vocal patterns and supernatural abilities, but I already have the commander breathing down my neck, so we need to hurry things along.” Another grin. Their eyes didn’t match their smile like Brown-eyes’ did.

A nod to indicate he was listening, signalling Sir to continue. “Now, ask me any questions you’d like and I will do my utmost best to answer.” The light reflected dangerously off their glasses.

Any questions? Any at all? So many flooded his mind. Who are you? Where am I? Why are there more tanks filled with green stuff? How long have I been asleep? The questions kept rolling, overlapping, and turning into a jumbled mess of chaos, but one stood out among the rest. One he figured needed answered before all others.

A question he felt like he’d choke on if he didn’t ask it.

“Who,” he cleared his throat, voice soft as he spoke his first words, “who am I?”

Sir scoffed, blue eyes sharp as they looked down on him. “Not a who, a what .” Pinned by their gaze, his mind absorbed the new information. “Experiment number 31. Classification: Clone.” A wide smile stretched their lips.

He gave a weak nod as the meaning sank in. A what. Not a person, but a clone, a copy. Inhuman, a thing, a tool. A part of him fought against those words, but it was small and easily quieted. 

Sir canted his head up with a single finger, their glasses reflecting 31’s wide green eyes. “Now don’t disappoint me.”

[noire-pandora]

Stay

My last work for @14daysdalovers. Thank you so much for hosting this, I had so much fun writing for it and reading everyone’s work. Can’t wait for the next one!

Also, a big thank you to the ones that liked/reblogged/left comments on my fics. I am really grateful for your encouragement. It really helped me to write more.

“Ask me to stay” and “ Wearing the Other’s Clothes”. Also on my AO3

Pairing: Solavellan

Words: 2744

Warnings: none.

The soft sound of charcoal scraping on the paper lulled Solas into a deep state of concentration, the monotonous music of the movement relaxing him as his mind diligently absorbed the knowledge hidden in the pages of Lady Gihni's book.

The nimble fingers guiding the charcoal on paper belonged to Elluin, who kept him company tonight. She sat on the floor, cross-legged, hunched above her sketchbook precariously balanced on her knees. She adamantly refused Solas' suggestion to join him in bed, claiming sitting on the floor helped her concentrate. He let her be, grateful they could share a few hours together, alone, with no unwelcome guest or dignitary to require the Inquisitor's attention.

While the hours passed, sleep made his eyes heavy, the Fade buzzing at the back of his mind, but he ignored its call, eager to spend more time with her, even if midnight found them still awake. At night, she could be his, and they could be just two lovers enjoying each other's presence, with no titles to separate them. At day, he had no right to ask for her company, as she belonged to her duty but, as the sun went down, he craved her presence and treasured every moment spent with her.

A sudden, long sigh coming from Elluin startled him, and he rapidly blinked to bring his attention back to the present moment. He closed the book and abandoned it on the bed, his attention shifting to her.

"Is something bothering you, Vhenan?" he inquired, a curious expression crossing his face, and he moved to glance at her.

A frown pulled hard at the corners of her mouth as she squeezed the charcoal between her fingers. She sighed again and rubbed her chin thoughtfully, staining her skin with the black powder. "I'm trying to sketch Dorian, but his face looks weird. I don't know what's wrong."

The bed creaked when he left it to join Elluin on the cold floor, his shoulder brushing against hers, the warmth of her body urging him to close the distance between them. His hand slipped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

A half-finished drawing of Dorian took form on the paper, his features brought to life by the rich lines. He stood at a desk, a frown of concentration knitting his eyebrows as he studied a large tome. Solas took a minute to scrutinise his face, his eyes patiently analysing the lines on her creation.

"I believe his jawline is too prominent," he concluded, one of his fingers hovering above the lines of Dorian's face." The line of his jaw is softer."

"What?" she frowned at him. "Dorian has a strong jawline."

"Yes, but not as sharp as you sketched it. I believe that jawline is more suited for me."

"For you?" she stared at him for a few seconds and trailed a finger down the side of his face, tracing his jaw. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a shiver of pleasure coursing down his spine at the touch. "You're right. I've been studying the beautiful lines of your face for too long, and my mind blended them with Dorian's. Tomorrow I'll sneak into the library when he's not paying attention and—why are you smirking like that?"

He chuckled at her words, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It has been a while since anyone praised my beauty."

He could barely contain a self-satisfied smirk from spreading across his lips. His hand left her back, and he turned to face her, tucking his legs under him, his knees touching her outer thigh." You think the lines of my face are beautiful?"

She shot him an incredulous look, cocking an eyebrow. "Of course. Why are you so surprised? I'm sure I'm not the only one who told you that."

She gave him a lopsided grin and changed her position to imitate his. Her sketchbook opened on the floor between them. "Really? When was the last time?"

"When I was young."

Memories of times long gone shuffled unexpectedly through his mind, but he gently pushed them away, back to that corner of his memory where he hid his secrets. He forced himself to stay anchored in the present, to lavish in the comfort and the safety her presence brought to him. To fully enjoy the sensation, he had not felt for hundreds of years.

She leaned forward, her gaze never leaving his as her fingertips drew circles on his left knee. Her fingers were so warm, and the caress was so gentle that his skin prickled at the contact. "When you were 'bold and cocky'?"

He grinned at her, hoping she didn't notice how much that simple touch tantalised him. "Yes."

She hummed and studied his face for a long moment, a curious gleam in her eyes. "That must have been quite a sight."

To his surprise, silence fell between them as she turned her attention back to the sketchbook. He swallowed hard, wishing she continued caressing him.

He watched her as she ripped the page with the failed drawing from her sketchbook and crumpled it into a ball to set it ablaze with her magic. A trail of smoke rose from it, and he followed its sinuous journey through the air, his thoughts pulling him away from the present, the same ideas that came into his mind when he laid on his bed, half asleep and wondering.

Wondering how it would have been if they met thousands of years ago when Elvhenan still stood proud? Would she love him? Would she join his rebellion? He knew it was a foolish thought, but he wished they could have met back then and not now, not in this world he could not understand. Here, he could only show a faint shadow of his passion, of his love. In Arlathan, he would have done anything to make her happy; he would have given himself entirely to her. If only his plan succeeded. He closed his eyes to hide the emotions residing there, afraid she might read them and question him.

"Do you think we'd get along if we met when we were young?" she finally spoke, forcing him to ignore his thoughts once again, surprised she has been thinking about the same matter.

He opened his eyes again and stared ahead at the wall behind her, contemplating the idea. "Yes. But I do believe our strong personalities would clash a few times. As it happened when we first met."

She nodded in agreement, a solemn expression on her face. "Yes, two young, stubborn elves butting heads. I guess we'd end up bickering about everything," her charcoal danced again on the paper, her fingers leading it to draw a few bold, seemingly random lines. "It took us a bit to get along after we met, didn't it?"

"Indeed"

He looked at her work, and a faint smile grew again on his lips as he realised she was drawing him. This time his face looked younger, with no wrinkles or laugh lines to mark the passage of time.

She stopped suddenly, her gaze shifting from her drawing to his face and stopping at the ceiling. She studied it, her fingers twirling the charcoal piece, and he understood she had another question for him. One that might surprise or annoy him.

"What is it? You may ask."

She still eyed a point above his head, intentionally avoiding his gaze, spiking his curiosity. "I would've loved to draw you back then. Do you think the younger you would've let me?

"Yes."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and this time she allowed him to look into her eyes. "Even nude?"

"I," he began, ready to give a negative answer. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss of words but sighed, defeated. As much as he wanted to deny that, he knew his younger self too well. "Yes."

She laughed, slapping her thigh. "Really? You were that different?"

He nodded." I was. It would have been impossible to refuse a request from a beautiful woman like yourself. My younger self would not resist you."

"Resist me? Now I'm curious about how it would go," she purred, her eyes falling to his lips.

"You would get your drawing," he paused and slowly licked his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Eventually."

Undistilled desire poured through him at the thought of spending a night together in Arlathan, and he swallowed hard, his throat drying at the mental image. A strong wish to erase all the distance between them nagged him, his fingers twitching in anticipation, but he denied himself that joy. No matter how much he wanted her, he had no right to ask for more than a few heated kisses from her. Not when parts of him were still hidden from her.

He searched her face for any hidden signs of desire, but he couldn't see any. Instead, she wore a pensive expression, her unfocused gaze locked on the piece of charcoal resting on her opened palm. He knew that expression as she wore it every time uncertainty hung over her.

He shuffled closer, her warm breath tickling his skin. He tucked a wayward strand of her chin-length hair behind her ear and chuckled when the curl stubbornly escaped. Slowly, his hand slid down the side of her face in a warm caress, his fingers finally cupping her chin and lifting it until their eyes met.

"Even then," he whispered with a gentleness that surprised him. "I would have loved you. As I do now," slowly, he leant forward, his lips touching hers in a soft caress. She answered, lightly tasting him.

She broke the kiss, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking down at the floor. "I... thank you, Solas."

He attentively watched her, curious if today will be the day when she will utter those three words, but the hesitance in her gestures made him realise it won't happen. He had no desire to pressure her into confessing her love for him, her gestures enough for him to understand how much she cared, but curiosity nagged him. Curiosity and confusion at why, a woman as powerful as she was, found it hard to say it. She jumped in front of the danger with no second thoughts and challenged anyone who dared to badmouth her, but she became uncharacteristically quiet when he confessed his love for her. He knew she had other lovers before him, and yet love left her speechless. Or it was just his love? Another mystery her soul held, one he was eager to understand.

"I should go," she suddenly said, slipping the charcoal into the pocket of her trousers and closing her sketchbook. "I'm sure your spirit friends miss you."

He got up at the same time she did, but instead of letting her go, as he always did, he reached for her hand, barely touching her fingers.

"Stay with me tonight."

She blinked a few times at him, her hand squeezing his fingers. "Are you sure? Last time I did that, you left in a hurry."

The first night they spent together sleeping in the same bed almost brought his nighttime fantasies to reality, and, with a heart-shattering effort, he had to abruptly put an end to the moment, leaving her confused and unsatisfied. Since then, they haven't shared a bed anymore

"I am."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "We're going to sleep in the same bed, right?"

"Yes."

"Really?" she asked in surprise, eyeing the bed.

"Yes, Vhenan. But if you mind it, you can refuse me," he let go of her, allowing her to leave if she wished it.

She waved the sketchbook in the air, rolling her eyes at him. "I don't mind it at all, Solas. But I know you enjoy your loneliness.

He reached for her hand and planted a soft kiss on the centre of her palm before speaking again. "I do. But I enjoy your presence much more."

"All right, I'll stay," she confirmed, giggling at the light touch of his lips. "I need to get my nightwear from my room."

"No need, I can lend you one of my sleeping tunics."

He made his way towards the small closet sitting in the opposite corner of his room and opened it, searching for one of the sleeping tunics Josephine ordered for him. He found a cotton one he never wore and handed it to her. She accepted it, grinning at him.

"Aren't you always so kind?"

She set down her sketchbook on a chair and reached for her blouse to take it off. Instantly he turned his back on her. She snorted at his reaction, but he felt no shame in it. Offering her intimacy was the least he could do.

"How do I look?" she asked after a minute, her shirt and pants neatly folded resting on the chair, above her sketchbook.

He turned around to face her, and his heart thumped as his eyes followed the lines of her body. Her shoulders were bare, the sleeves of the tunic slipping on her tiny arms, revealing her freckled kissed skin and the scars adorning her right shoulder. The tunic reached her knees, exposing her short and thin legs with knobby knees. He forced himself to take his eyes off her and answer the question. "Comfortable."

She spun on one heel, and he found himself dumbstruck by her beauty. Even in simple clothing, she still charmed him. What a fool he was, thinking nothing in this world could capture his attention.

"I actually feel really comfortable. No wonder you're wearing this all the time."

"I do not wear my sleeping tunics at day time, Vhenan."

She giggled, beaming at him. "Are you sure about that? They look the same."

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing how much she loved to tease his clothing choices. "Yes, I am sure."

She stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder as she made her way towards the bed. He shook his head at her, amused by her behaviour, but his eyes lingered on her hips, delighted by their shape. He gritted his teeth in annoyance at his nagging need to touch her body.

The worn-out bed-springs creaked under Elluin's weight as she lay in it, a sight of comfort slipping her lips.

"Are you coming?" she asked him, eyes closed, pulling the blanket close to her chin.

"In a second," he answered, taking off his shirt, neatly folding it to place it above her clothes. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, his joins popping loudly. Elluin lazily opened her eyes at the noise, only to snap them wide open at the sight of Solas' bare torso. Pride washed over him, noticing the shy blush tingeing her cheeks pink, content he could still impress a woman with his physique . "Is it bothering you? If it does, I can--"

"No, no, it's fine," she stammered, shaking her head. "I forgot you like to sleep shirtless. Make yourself comfortable. I don't mind it."

The bed protested again as Solas joined her under the blanket. He pulled her close, her back resting against his chest, his arms wrapping around her tummy. She giggled when he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Good night, Solas."

"Good night. I will search for you in the Fade."

She hummed in agreement, reaching for his hands and intertwining her fingers with his. He watched her as she slowly drifted into sleep, her chest rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled, the soft sound of her breath lulling him to sleep, to embrace the calling of the Fade.

"Solas?" she whispered in the darkness a few minutes later, startling him.

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

With eyes widened in surprise, he opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. When he spoke again, his voice quivered. "I love you too, Elluin."

He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent, the perfume of the lily of the valley salve she used to tame the curls of her hair, overwhelming his senses. It was the scent of love and acceptance. It gave him hope that maybe, maybe, this world he used to hate could be his new home. Their home.