#god knows the woman’s family were -watching her carry on like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astrxq · 2 months

Note

I watched Damsel with Millie Bobby Brown, and I was thinking it would make a great Jace x reader story, if you're taking requests. Something like him being the prince who has to fake a wedding and then offer her as a sacrifice on the mountain to the dragon, but ends up falling in love and decides to rescue her. Or maybe he is the dragon that is cursed, and would only return to human form if he found his soulmate, in this case the sacrifices (the girls were thrown into the dragon's pit) because otherwise he would burn down the city, just like in the film. - 💜

The Dragon's Bride

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words: 17k (oops?)

notes/warnings: non-canon events, description of blood/cuts (blood oath), religious guilt (jacaerys), kissing, angst??, slight ooc jacaerys and rhaenyra, mentions of death, animal death, jace's council SUCKS!!!

The weight of duty had never felt heavier on Prince Jacaerys’ shoulders as he stood before the ancient weirwood tree in the godswood of the Red Keep. The face carved into the trunk seemed to watch him with knowing eyes, judging his every thought and action.

Jacaerys ran a hand through his long-curly hair, and took a deep breath. The task before him was one he had dreaded since childhood, a burden passed down through generations of his family. As the heir to the Iron Throne, it fell to him to carry out this grim duty.

“My prince,” a voice called from behind him. Jacaerys turned to see one of the maesters approaching, his chain clinking softly with each step. The old man's face was etched with concern. “The Small Council awaits your presence. It is time to begin the selection process.”

Jacaerys nodded, his eyes clouded with resignation. “I'll be there shortly.”

As the maester retreated, Jacaerys cast one last glance at the heart tree. “Give me strength,” he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was addressing the old gods, the new, or simply the universe itself.

The walk to the Small Council chamber felt like a march to his own execution. Each step echoed through the stone corridors, a countdown to a fate he couldn't escape. When he reached the ornate doors, he paused, steeling himself for what was to come. With a deep breath, he pushed them open and entered, two soldiers walking behind him.

The room fell silent as Jacaerys took his seat at the table.

Queen Rhaenyra spoke first, her voice steady. “My son, The dragon of Dragonstone grows restless,”

Jacaerys nodded, his throat tight. Still silent.

Ser Alfred leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “The tradition is clear, Your Grace. Prince Jacaerys must choose a lady from among the noble houses of Westeros. He will wed her in a ceremonial marriage, and then...” He trailed off, the unspoken fate hanging heavy in the air.

“And then I must take her to the dragon,” Jacaerys finished.

Lord Corlys, ever the pragmatist, spread a collection of scrolls on the table. “We have compiled a list of suitable candidates from houses loyal to the crown. Each lady comes from a family of impeccable lineage and has been deemed worthy of this... honor.”

As Jacaerys looked at the names before him, he couldn't help but feel a wave of nausea. Each name came with a charcoal drawing of the girls. These were not just names on parchment; they were living, breathing young women, each with hopes and dreams of their own. And he was to choose one to condemn to a terrible fate.

“May I have some time to consider?” he asked, his eyes meeting his mother's.

Queen Rhaenyra hesitated. She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “Of course.”

As the council members filed out of the room, Jacaerys remained seated, staring at the scrolls before him. The weight of his task pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit entirely.

Jacaerys stared at the scrolls spread before him, each one bearing the name and likeness of a young woman whose fate now rested in his hands. The charcoal drawings seemed to come alive under his gaze, eyes filled with hope and innocence that he would soon extinguish. His fingers trembled as he reached for the first scroll.

Jacaerys felt his breath coming faster, his heart pounding in his chest. One by one, Jacaerys examined the scrolls, each lady's face burning itself into his memory.

As the hours wore on, the faces began to blur together, a parade of innocent lives that he was tasked with judging. Who among them deserved this fate? How could he possibly make such a choice?

Jacaerys stood abruptly, pacing the length of the chamber. He ran his hands through his curly hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. The weight of his duty pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him where he stood.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. “Enter,” he called, his voice hoarse from disuse.

A servant girl entered, carrying a tray with bread, cheese, and wine. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsy. “The Queen thought you might need sustenance.”

Jacaerys nodded absently, gesturing for her to set the tray on a side table. As she turned to leave, he caught sight of her face – young, perhaps a few years younger than himself.

“Wait,” he said, causing the girl to pause at the door, worried. “What is your name?”

She turned, surprise evident on her face. “Myra, Your Grace.”

“Myra,” he repeated, studying her. “Tell me, Myra, if you had to choose someone to... to face a great danger, how would you decide?”

The servant girl's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the question. She fidgeted with her apron, considering her words carefully. “I... I suppose I would choose someone brave, Your Grace.”

Jacaerys nodded slowly. “And if all the choices seemed equally brave?”

Myra bit her lip, then said softly, “Then perhaps... the kindest one, Your Grace.”

With those words, she curtsied again and slipped out of the room, leaving Jacaerys alone with his thoughts once more.

He returned to the table, looking at the scrolls with fresh eyes. Brave and kind – could he discern those qualities from these brief descriptions and charcoal portraits?

As he sifted through the scrolls again, one caught his eye. He had overlooked it before, distracted by the more prominent houses. But now, something about it called to him.

Your name was written at the top in elegant script, followed by a brief description of your house and accomplishments. But it was the portrait that held his attention. The artist had captured a certain light in your eyes, a hint of a smile that spoke of warmth and courage.

Jacaerys found himself reading your description more closely. You were not from one of the great houses, but your lineage was respectable. What stood out were the small details – your love of books, your kindness to those less fortunate, the way you had once stood up to a local threat to protect a younger child.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine you facing the dragon. In his mind's eye, he saw you standing tall, afraid but unbroken. He saw kindness in your gaze, even in the face of such terror.

Opening his eyes, Jacaerys looked at the other scrolls once more. Each lady was worthy in her own right, each life precious. But something about you called to him, a feeling he couldn't quite explain.

With a heavy heart, knowing the fate he was condemning you to, Jacaerys set your scroll aside. He had made his choice.

As dawn broke over King's Landing, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Jacaerys stood once more before the heart tree in the godswood. He pressed his palm against the rough bark, feeling the ancient power thrumming beneath.

“I've chosen,” he whispered to the carved face. “Gods help me, I've chosen.”

Jacaerys had never been one for prayer, nor had he put much stock in the gods, old or new. As a prince of the realm, his education had focused on matters of state, the intricacies of court politics, and the art of war. Faith had always seemed like an afterthought to him, a crutch for the weak. But as the time for this grim tradition approached, he found himself drawn to the godswood more and more frequently, seeking solace in the ancient silence of the heart tree.

The sound of a throat clearing shook him out of his thoughts, the same maester who had long-ago taught him to translate High Valyrian stood with his arms to his sides. “Emagon ao reached iā decision, ñuha dārilaros?” [Have you reached a decision, my prince?]

Jacaerys’ brows furrowed in deep contemplation.

“Eman,” [I have,] Jacaerys finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his decision. He glanced once more at the ancient weirwood, as if seeking guidance from the silent face carved into its trunk. “Prepare iā vōljes.” [Prepare a raven.]

The maester nodded solemnly. “To whom shall I send it, Your Grace?”

Without another word, Jacaerys reached for his pocket, pulling out the folded scroll with your name on it. He stared at it for a few seconds before, with an attempt of a steady hand, he handed it over.

The news of Prince Jacaerys' choice spread through the Red Keep like wildfire. Whispers filled the corridors, a mix of curiosity and pity for the unknown girl who had been selected for this “honor.” In the days that followed, preparations began in earnest for your arrival and the ceremonial wedding that would precede the grim journey to Dragonstone.

Jacaerys found himself both dreading and anticipating your arrival. He had made his choice, but the reality of what that meant hadn't fully sunk in yet. As he went about his daily duties, he couldn't shake the image of your portrait from his mind – the light in your eyes, the hint of a smile that had drawn him to you.

Every time he’d walk the halls, silence would follow, awkward stares from the staff and sometimes a hushed whisper that he’d pretend not to hear.

“Can you imagine? Poor thing, chosen to face the dragon,” he overheard once, making him clench his fists in frustration. “She's just a girl, freshly two tens of age.” another voice murmured sympathetically, but it offered him little comfort.

Despite the weight of duty pressing down on him, Jacaerys couldn't bring himself to discard the drawing. Instead, he kept it close, hidden away in a drawer beside his bed. Every night before he slept, he would retrieve it and stare at your likeness by the dim light of a candle. It wasn't a gesture of admiration or affection, but rather a self-imposed penance, a reminder of the destiny he had sealed for you.

In the quiet moments of the night, when the castle slept and he was alone with his thoughts, Jacaerys would silently plead to the gods. He didn't kneel before the heart tree anymore; he didn't utter formal prayers. Instead, his appeals were whispered in the darkness of his chamber, words of regret and sorrow that mingled with the flickering candlelight.

“Istin sagon punished isse ōdres syt se rest hen ñuha tubissa, syt eman ōdrikagon iā innocent.” [I must be punished in pain for the rest of my days, for i have hurt an innocent]

The court continued its whispered discussions about the impending ceremony, but Jacaerys withdrew further into himself. He attended council meetings and performed his princely duties with a stoic demeanor, hiding the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. There were moments when he almost reconsidered, when he almost resolved to defy tradition and spare you this fate. But each time, the weight of his lineage and the expectations of his people bore down upon him, forcing him back into the role he was destined to play.

The night before you were set to arrive, Jacaerys couldn't sleep. He paced his chambers, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. As the first light of dawn began to creep through his windows, he’d realized he hadn’t had a blink of sleep.

He stood at the window of his chambers, watching the sun rise over King's Landing. The city was already stirring, unaware of the personal turmoil of its future king. As he gazed out at the sprawling streets and towering buildings, Jacaerys couldn't help but notice the big blob of citizens, all awaiting at the stair’s entrance of the Keep,

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Enter,” he called, turning from the window.

A servant stepped into the room, bowing deeply. “Your Grace,” she said softly, “the Lady has arrived.”

Jacaerys nodded, his heart sinking at the news. The moment he had been dreading was finally here. He turned back to the window, taking one last look at the city before steeling himself for what lay ahead.

“Thank you,” he said to the servant, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I will be down shortly.”

As the heavy door closed behind her, echoing through the halls, Jacaerys took a deep breath, his mind racing. Finally, with a last, steadying breath, Jacaerys left his chambers and made his way down to the courtyard. The walk felt like a dream, each step echoing in the silent corridors of the Red Keep. Servants and guards stepped aside as he passed, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and pity.

As he approached the grand entrance, he could hear the murmurs of the crowd outside. The people of King's Landing had gathered to witness the arrival of the chosen lady, their curiosity palpable in the air. Jacaerys squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the spectacle that awaited, his mother’s hand on his shoulder as a small-support for him.

As Jacaerys stepped out into the courtyard, the murmur of the crowd hushed to a reverent silence. Nobles and commoners alike pressed forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the prince and his chosen bride.

Jacaerys felt his breath catch in his throat as he laid eyes on you for the first time.

You were even more striking in person than your portrait had suggested. Your eyes, bright and intelligent, scanned the crowd before settling on Jacaerys.

Prince Jacaerys was beautiful, his long curly hair framing his face, his eyes intense as they met yours. You couldn't help but notice the dark circles under those eyes, the weariness that seemed to hang about him like a cloak.

Jacaerys descended the steps slowly, each movement deliberate and controlled. As he approached, you sank into a deep curtsy, your gaze lowering respectfully. “Your Grace,” you said, your voice steady despite the enormity of the moment. “I am honored by our betrothal.”

For a moment, Jacaerys found himself at a loss for words. He turned to look at his mother with a confused look on his face. You didn’t know? The Queen shook her head at him, so lightly that only he could notice.

He reached out, gently taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

“My lady,” he said softly, loud enough for you to hear but not for the eager crowd.

The murmurs of the crowd faded into the background as Jacaerys led you through the courtyard, his mother Queen Rhaenyra by his side and your family next to yours.

“Your Grace,” Jacaerys whispered, eyeing his mother. “I was not told that my betrothed didn’t know of the… arrangement.”

Queen Rhaenyra's gaze softened as she walked beside Jacaerys and you, the procession moving towards the Great Hall where the formalities would take place. Her voice was low, meant only for her son's ears amidst the murmurs of the courtiers and the lingering hush of the crowd.

“My son, there are matters of tradition that sometimes defy explanation,” she began, her tone tinged with empathy. “It is the way of our world, and you know as well as I do the weight of duty that rests upon us.”

Jacaerys glanced at his mother, a mixture of frustration and sorrow flickering in his eyes. “But she should have been informed,” he murmured quietly, his grip tightening subtly on your hand. You didn’t pay it any mind, as you were occupied speaking to your father, who reminded you – once again – of your duty to bring the Prince a babe to be the heir to his throne.

“I understand not telling the common folk, but, her?” He hushedly spat out, almost glaring at his mother, “She is to be fed to a dragon.”

Queen Rhaenyra sighed softly, her gaze turning ahead as they approached the Great Hall's grand entrance. “She will come to understand her role in time, Jacaerys. As will you,” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of regret at the sight of her son’s worry.

He stole glances at you, trying to gauge your feelings, silently hoping that somehow, you might find a way to forgive the circumstances that had brought you both here. Once you sat at the Small Council table, ready to speak of the marriage that would take place in merely a few weeks, the room fell silent. You glanced around nervously, acutely aware of the attention shifting towards you and the Prince that sat straight by your side.

“My daughter knows her duty,” Your father started, making one of the maesters clear his throat in discomfort, Jacaerys glared at the old man. “She is healthy, and able to bring a babe to the world.”

You nodded, trying to hide the tremble in your hands.

Jacaerys turned his head to look at you, your furrowed brows as you listened to his mother explain how the ceremony of your wedding was going to play off. He clenched his fists on the table, trying to hide his overwhelmedness by taking a long sip out of his wine.

The meeting was a blur for Jacaerys, his mind not allowing him to pay attention to any of the preparations, all he could think about was the innocent look on your face, unknowing of your fate, and the stern look of his own Council, awaiting for the day to come.

Eventually, after having had enough of listening to your families’ planning, he stood. “Excuse me,” he voiced, offering his hand for you to take as the room fell silent. “Me and my betrothed will leave you to it, we will walk together.”

You glanced around nervously, uncertain of the proper protocol, but your father nodded in approval, prompting you to take Jacaerys' hand. His hand was cold, he rushed the two of you out of the room and out to the gardens, he didn’t speak until you stepped out of the Keep.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “I used to spend a lot of time here as a child. My mother would bring me to the gardens to escape the formality of court. It was my sanctuary.”

You listened intently, intrigued. “It's beautiful,” you replied softly, glancing around at the serene landscape. “I can see why.”

“I apologize for the abruptness back there,” he began, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of urgency. “It's... overwhelming, all of this. I wanted to give us a moment away from all the... planning and discussions.”

You glanced at him, noticing the tension in his jawline, the weight that seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. His gaze was distant, as if wrestling with thoughts beyond the present moment.

“I... I wanted to ask how you are,” he continued, his tone tentative. “This must all be quite... unexpected for you.”

“It is... a lot to take in,” you admitted quietly, choosing your words with care. “But it is an honor to marry the Prince.”

Jacaerys nodded, though his expression remained troubled. He attempted to push down the burning feeling in his stomach, the guilt eating at him.

Silence fell between you for a moment, the distant sound of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves providing a backdrop to your conversation. Jacaerys seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

“What do you enjoy doing?” he asked suddenly, his curiosity genuine. “Aside from the obvious duties and expectations... What brings you joy?”

The question caught you off guard, but you appreciated the chance to speak of something beyond the weight of your impending marriage. “I love books,” you confessed with a small smile. “I used to sneak away to a small library in our keep,” you confided, a hint of nostalgia in your voice. “It was quiet, away from the noise of daily life. I could lose myself in the pages for hours.”

He almost sighed when he saw a small smile creeping on your face as you spoke of your memories. “That sounds wonderful,” he said softly, his voice tinged with melancholy. “I... I hope you'll find some comfort in the library here, during your stay.”

You nodded, grateful for his consideration. “I look forward to exploring it. Do you have any favorite books or subjects, Your Grace?”

Jacaerys seemed to relax a bit at the change of topic. “Please, when we're alone like this, call me Jacaerys,” he said with a small smile. “And yes, I've always been fascinated by the histories of Old Valyria. The tales of dragons and ancient magic... they're quite captivating.”

“Jacaerys,” you repeated, testing the name on your lips. “I'd love to hear more about that. We don't have many books on Valyria where I'm from.”

He brightened a bit. “Really? Well, there's this one volume about the Doom that's particularly interesting. It theorizes about what might have caused it.”

As you walked, Jacaerys began to explain some of the theories, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. He aimlessly walked you to the library, you followed his steps as he spoke. You couldn’t help but notice the looks the servants gave you, almost pitiful, as you walked past them.

Some whispered, covering their mouths with their hand so it would stay a secret. Jacaerys didn’t pay it any mind, his hand moving to lock both of your index fingers as he kept spitting out everything he’d learned about the Doom’s theories.

As you entered the grand library, your eyes widened in awe. Shelves upon shelves of books stretched as far as you could see, their spines glinting in the soft light filtering through high windows.

Jacaerys watched your reaction with a small smile. “Impressive, isn't it? I thought you might appreciate it.”

You nodded, still taking in the sight. “It's magnificent. I could spend years here and never read everything.”

Jacaerys led you deeper into the library, his fingers still lightly entwined with yours. “Let me show you some of my favorite sections,” he said, guiding you through the towering stacks.

As you walked, Jacaerys pointed out various tomes and scrolls, explaining their significance. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing, asking questions and sharing your own thoughts.

“Here,” Jacaerys said, pulling a large, leather-bound volume from a shelf. “This is the book on the Doom of Valyria I mentioned. Would you like to look at it together?”

You nodded eagerly, and Jacaerys led you to a nearby reading nook. As you sat side by side, heads bent over the ancient text, the weight of your circumstances seemed to lift momentarily. For a little while, you were just two people sharing a passion for knowledge and history.

You recognized High Valyrian words you’d learned here and there, but were grateful that Jacaerys patiently explained the meaning of each passage aloud.

“Se sīr īles foretold ondoso se scribes hen Valyria bona se vējes would māzigon bē īlva, heralded ondoso iā rōvēgrie shaking hen tegon se iā sȳndror bona would swallow se vēzos.” [And so it was foretold by the scribes of Valyria that the Doom would come upon us, heralded by a great shaking of the earth and a darkness that would swallow the sun.]

His voice resonated softly in the library's hallowed silence, you’d noticed his tense demeanor from hours earlier had eased into a more relaxed and gentle attitude.

As the families concluded their meeting in the Great Hall, the formalities of the betrothal were settled. You were to remain at the Red Keep under the watchful eye of Queen Rhaenyra and her court, preparing for the ceremonial wedding that would precede the journey to Dragonstone. Jacaerys escorted you back to your temporary chambers, a solemn air hanging between you.

Inside the quiet sanctum of your quarters, away from prying eyes, Jacaerys finally allowed his guard to drop. He paced restlessly, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want you to miss your home.”

You watched Jacaerys with concern, his sudden outburst catching you off guard. “Your Gr- Jacaerys,” you corrected yourself, remembering his earlier request. “It's alright. I knew when I was chosen that I would have to leave my home behind. It's part of my duty.”

He looked like he wanted to push the conversation, to speak his mind, but he simply shut his mouth and nodded once. “Very well.”

An awkward silence fell between you. There was clearly something unsaid hanging in the air, but neither of you seemed willing or able to address it directly.

Finally, Jacaerys cleared his throat. “I should let you rest. It's been a long day, and I'm sure you'd like some time to settle in.” He moved towards the door, then paused, turning back to you. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask. I want you to feel at home here.”

That night, Jacaerys found himself staring at the canopy above his bed, unable to find solace in sleep once again. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind, particularly the encounter with you, the chosen lady whose fate he now bore responsibility for. He tossed and turned, unable to shake the image of your face – bright, hopeful, and utterly unaware of the doom that awaited you.

He sat up abruptly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Gods, forgive me,” he whispered into the stillness of the night. He repeated what he did each night, the only sounds in the room being his own whispers.

As Jacaerys whispered his nightly plea for forgiveness, the weight of his decision pressed down on him more heavily than ever before. Meeting you in person, seeing your bright eyes and hearing your voice, had made the reality of his choice painfully tangible.

It was a cruel twist of fate that someone with such a love for knowledge and life should be destined for… He couldn't even bring himself to think the words.

Unable to find peace, Jacaerys rose from his bed, wrapping a cloak around his shoulders to fend off the chill of the night. He left his chambers quietly, the corridors of the Red Keep almost deserted at this late hour. Only the occasional guard patrolled the hallways, their presence a silent reminder of the ever-watchful eyes of the realm.

He found his feet leading him to the godswood once more, drawn to the ancient heart tree that had witnessed so much over the centuries. The rustling leaves seemed to whisper secrets as he approached, the carved face staring down at him with its perpetual expression of knowing.

“Why have you done this to me?” Jacaerys asked, his voice a broken whisper. “Why have you placed this burden on my shoulders?”

The tree, of course, offered no answer. It stood silent and stoic, a testament to the countless generations who had sought its guidance and solace.

“Old gods,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “I don't know if you can hear me, or if you even care. But I need your guidance. I need to find a way to fulfill my duty without losing my soul in the process.”

The face carved into the tree seemed to watch him with those same knowing eyes, offering no answers, only silent judgment.

Jacaerys sank to his knees before the heart tree, the weight of his duty pressing down on him with unbearable force. The faces of the young women whose fates he had held in his hands swirled in his mind, but it was your face that haunted him the most. The way you had looked at him with trust and curiosity, unaware of the doom he had chosen for you.

The Prince had fallen asleep at the feet of the heart tree, woken up by his Queen’s scolding gaze and her sharp voice as she shook his arm. “Wake up, Jacaerys!” Queen Rhaenyra's voice cut through the early morning stillness of the godswood. Her hand shook his arm gently but insistently until he stirred, groggy and disoriented.

Jacaerys blinked up at his mother, the reality of where he was and what awaited him crashing back with painful clarity. “Mother – Your Grace.” he murmured, rubbing his eyes as he rose to his feet, feeling the ache in his bones from sleeping on the hard ground.

“You should be resting in your chambers, not sleeping out in the godswood like some lost soul!”

He hummed, throat sore from the cold air of the night, as his Queen dragged him inside holding onto his wrist. Jacaerys followed his mother back to the Red Keep in a fog, the events of the previous night and the weight of his decisions still heavy on his mind. Queen Rhaenyra's scolding was just a distant echo to him as they walked through the quiet corridors, servants bowing respectfully as they passed.

They walked by the Grand Hall, he managed to makeout your sitting figure, all alone, with a full plate in front of you as one of the servants poured juice into the cups. At the loud, angry steps that scurried in the hall, you lifted your eyes to meet his for a split moment before he was dragged away to his own chambers to compose himself.

“Your betrothed is sat at the table, waiting, and you’re out asleep in the gardens.”

Jacaerys felt a pang of embarrassment as he remembered the fleeting glance he had exchanged with you through the grand hall. It was bad enough to be caught by his mother and scolded like a child, but to have you witness such a moment of vulnerability added another layer of discomfort.

Once safely within his chambers, the embarrassment deepened. He leaned heavily against the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself. He readied himself, not bothering to call the servants, and approached the Great Hall.

It was silent, all he could hear as he walked in was the sounds of his youngest siblings playing with their food. Approaching you, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. You looked up as he approached, your expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Jacaerys cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.

“My lady,” he began softly, “I apologize for my absence.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for understanding. “It's quite alright,” you replied with a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

He noticed a thick book sitting next to your feast, the old worn-out cover with the carved in title he recognized from the section he’d shown you the day before. “The Doom of Valyria,” Jacaerys noted with a slight surprise, gesturing towards the book. “You found it interesting?”

You nodded, a genuine spark of enthusiasm brightening your expression. “I figured we could look at it together. I thought it might help me understand more about... well, everything,” you admitted softly, your gaze flickering briefly to the book before returning to meet his eyes.

Jacaerys nodded, feeling his mother’s eyes move to him in a warning. Don’t get attached.

He didn’t initiate another topic of conversation, casting the room in silence while you had your breakfast. The Queen stood, taking her youngest son into her arms while two other servants followed behind with the other kids, leaving you alone in the Hall.

“We can look at it now, if you wish.” he spoke, hand reaching for the book once he’d finished drinking his cup. You nodded eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to delve into something other than the weighty expectations of your impending marriage. You both moved to a quieter corner of the Great Hall, away from the prying eyes of the courtiers who lingered nearby.

Jacaerys settled onto the floor, patting the space beside him. “Come on, it's more comfortable down here,” he said with a grin.

You laughed softly, gathering your skirts as you joined him. “If anyone walks in, they'll think we've lost our minds.”

“Let them,” Jacaerys chuckled, opening the book across both your laps. “Now, where shall we start?”

Your eyes skimmed the pages, landing on an illustration of a great city. “What's this?”

“Ah, Old Valyria at its height,” Jacaerys explained, his finger tracing the intricate drawing. “See those spires? They say they were forged by dragonfire.”

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in closer. Your shoulder brushed against his, and you felt a small thrill at the contact.

Jacaerys turned his head, his face now inches from yours. He hummed before he cleared his throat, a smile playing at his lips. “Did you know they had a saying? 'Valar morghulis.'“

“What does that mean?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“All men must die,” Jacaerys translated, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Cheerful bunch, weren't they?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with the edge of the page before turning it. The text was dense with Valyrian history and conjecture, but Jacaerys patiently translated and explained each passage to you.

After a while, as if unable to contain his turmoil any longer, Jacaerys cleared his throat softly, breaking the companionable silence. “My lady,” he began, his voice tinged with regret, “I must apologize once more for my absence this morrow. It was... inconsiderate of me to leave you waiting.”

You looked up from the book, meeting his gaze with a mixture of surprise and understanding. “Jacaerys, it's alright,” you assured him gently, “And, please, you must call me by my name as well.”

He nodded once, turning his head to the book again, then back at you, “I wasn’t… out, I fell asleep in the gardens.”

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you and tilted your head slightly, studying his expression. “It must have been a rough night,” you said softly, empathizing with the weight he carried. “I understand.”

“I didn't mean for you to witness me like that. It was... unbecoming.”

“It is only human to seek solace,” you replied gently, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Even princes need moments of peace.”

He nodded, a faint smile touching his own lips in return. You hummed in thought at Jacaerys’ silence, a beat passed, “If I am to marry the prince, I shall better my High Valyrian.”

His face tensed, holding back a frown at the thought of you not having enough time to learn the language before… the day. “I can assist you with that, if you'd like,” he finally said.

You felt a surge of relief at his offer. You turned your head to the book, focusing on Jacaerys’ explanation once again. Before he could continue, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. A servant appeared, bowing low.

“Your Grace, my Lady,” he said, lying through his teeth, “The Small Council requests Prince Jacaerys' presence immediately.”

Jacaerys sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders. He stood, offering you a hand to help you up as well. He gave you a small smile before closing the book and handing it off to you.

“I am sure there is a High Valyrian dictionary somewhere, feel free to roam the library.” he said finally before turning to follow the servant to his awaiting family.

You watched Jacaerys leave, the book heavy in your hands. His sudden departure left you feeling oddly bereft, the warmth of your shared moment fading as quickly as it had come.

With a soft sigh, you made your way back to the library. The vast room felt different now without Jacaerys' presence – larger, more intimidating. You wandered through the towering shelves, searching for the dictionary he had mentioned.

Finally locating the book, you settled into a comfortable chair near a window. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the pages as you began to study.

Hours passed, the light shifting as the sun traversed the sky. You had made some progress with your studies, but questions continued to gnaw at you. You tapped your foot repeatedly on the ground as you stared at the closed doors of the Small Council in the distance, having seen Jacaerys walk out hours before but having been too slow to catch up to him before he left for his chambers again.

As evening approached, a servant appeared to escort you to dinner. You followed, your mind still churning with unanswered questions. The dining hall was quiet, with only a few courtiers present. Jacaerys was noticeably absent.

“Where is Prince Jacaerys?” you asked the servant as she poured your wine.

“Still in council, my lady,” she replied, her eyes darting away quickly. “They've been at it all day.”

You nodded, picking at your food without much appetite. The absence of Jacaerys only heightened your sense of unease. Something was happening, something beyond the typical preparations for a royal wedding.

You retired to your chambers, the High Valyrian dictionary tucked under your arm. As you prepared for bed, you muttered to yourself the few words you’d memorized.

“Dārilaros Jacaerys,” [Prince Jacaerys] “Iksi naejot sagon dīnagon.” [We are to be wed.] you repeated softly to yourself, the unfamiliar words echoing in the quiet of your chambers. The weight of those words, of your impending marriage to Prince Jacaerys, hung heavily in the air.

You’d figured Jacaerys had begun to ignore you, a week went by and the servant’s lie about the Small Council no longer held up. A week had passed, each day stretching out with an almost unbearable tension.

Every day, you found yourself in the grand library, delving deeper into the pages of history and language, trying to distract yourself from the growing unease. You studied diligently, but your mind often wandered back to Jacaerys, how every time you walked past him in the halls he’d turn his head, how he’d scurry away after having spent the meals in silence with his family and you sitting next to him.

The whispers and pitying glances from servants and courtiers alike only added to your discomfort.

One evening, as you sat in the library poring over your High Valyrian studies, you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Looking up, you saw Jacaerys standing at the edge of the shelves, his expression a mixture of guilt and hesitation.

He called your name softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I... I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to join you. “Not at all, Your Grace. I've been hoping to speak with you.”

Jacaerys moved closer, taking a seat across from you. His eyes fell on the open books spread before you, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “You've been studying diligently, I see.”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Jacaerys once again fell into silence. His small smile faded, replaced by a look of deep concern and inner turmoil. The warmth that had briefly appeared in his eyes dimmed, shadows of worry creeping back into his expression. You watched as he seemed to retreat into himself, his posture stiffening, his gaze growing distant.

Despite your hopes for a longer conversation, for a moment of genuine connection, Jacaerys soon excused himself. His words were polite but hurried, his tone apologetic yet firm. As he left, you felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. Once more, you found yourself alone with your books, the silence of the library seeming to mock your growing frustration.

The pattern continued throughout the weeks, becoming a painful dance of near misses and avoided glances. During meals, Jacaerys would keep his eyes fixed on his plate, responding to questions with short, noncommittal answers. His shoulders would tense whenever you entered a room, and he would find reasons to leave shortly after.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, your paths would cross, but any hope of conversation was quickly dashed. Jacaerys would offer a hurried nod, his pace quickening as he passed by. You began to feel like a ghost in your own home, unseen and unheard by the very man you were to marry.

As evening approached and the anticipation of the upcoming wedding ceremony weighed heavily on your mind, the silence became unbearable. The thought of entering into a union shrouded in such secrecy and distance filled you with dread. Questions swirled in your mind, each unanswered inquiry adding to your growing resolve.

You decided you couldn't bear the silence any longer. The need for answers, for some semblance of understanding, outweighed your fear of confrontation. With determination setting in your jaw and courage steeling your spine, you made the decision to seek out Jacaerys and demand the truth, whatever it might be.

Just before bedtime, you spotted Jacaerys walking down the hallway towards his chambers. Gathering your courage, you called out to him.

“Issi ao dobōtēdrā nyke?” [Are you ignoring me?] Your pronunciation was still rough, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

Jacaerys froze at the sound of your voice, his hand resting on the handle of his chamber door. He turned slowly, his eyes wide with surprise at your use of High Valyrian. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with how to respond.

“No,” he said softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet hallway.

You stepped closer, your frustration evident in your posture and the set of your jaw. “What is it, then?” Your words were stilted, nerves eating at you. “The wedding is tomorrow, Jacaerys. I've been left in the dark, treated like a ghost in these halls. The servants whisper about me, everyone looks at me like they pity me. And my own betrothed ignores me.”

Your outburst seemed to startle him. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his distress. “You're right,” he said finally, his shoulders sagging. “I apologize.” Jacaerys hesitated, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. “I... I'm sorry for my behavior. It's not fair to you.”

You stepped closer, your frustration bubbling over. “No, it's not. We're to be married tomorrow, and I barely know you. Everyone in this castle looks at me with pity, and you can't even bear to speak to me. What am I supposed to think?”

Jacaerys winced at your words. “It's complicated,” he said softly, avoiding your gaze.

“Then explain it to me,” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. “I've left my home, my family, everything I've ever known. The least you could do is tell me why you've been avoiding me like I'm afflicted with greyscale.”

“I cannot do that,”

You huffed, he ran a hand through his hair again, clearly agitated. “I can't... I can't tell you everything. Please, try to understand.”

“Understand what?” you pressed, your patience wearing thin. “That my future husband would rather pretend I don't exist? That everyone in this castle looks at me with pity, and I don't know why?”

Jacaerys opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head. “I'm sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I truly am. But I can't... I can't do this right now.”

With that, he turned and retreated into his chambers, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, your frustration and confusion only growing.

You stared at his closed door for a long moment, anger and hurt warring within you. Finally, with a huff of exasperation, you turned and stormed off to your own chambers.

In your chambers, you paced restlessly, the events of the evening replaying in your mind. Jacaerys' evasiveness had left you feeling isolated and uncertain, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on you. You glanced at the High Valyrian dictionary on your bedside table, its pages now familiar but offering no solace.

You’d fallen asleep quickly, the sound of hurried footsteps woke you and only then did you realize it was already dawn. A flurry of activity surrounded you. Servants bustled about, preparing you for the ceremony. You donned the gown chosen for you, feeling more like a doll being dressed than a bride preparing for her wedding day.

Jacaerys refused to meet your eyes once you stood in front of each other, the privacy of the ceremony surprised you, only his family present and a few of the maesters. Words felt like a blur, you looked down at your hands that were wrapped in his, the priestess’ speech didn’t make you pay any more attention than you already were, too focused on hoping for this to end soon.

“May the gods bear witness to this union. As you now pledge your troth to one another, let it be known that your fates are bound by blood and by honor.”

You only snapped out of your haze when you felt Jacaerys’ warm hands leave yours, and reappear in your line of sight with a silver knife. He held one of your hands, placing it on his before drawing blood, thinning the action careful to not hurt you. Then he moved the blade to your lips, a small, simple cut to them before he handed you the tool.

You did the same, mirroring his every move, he shut his eyes when your cold blade reached his mouth, barely reacting to the cut. Then, a kiss, like the priestess called. Jacaerys cupped your cheek, his bloodied hand holding onto yours, and the taste of blood quickly filled your mouth. It was a slow kiss, just one, and he pulled away with a sigh.

His thumb ran over your cheek once more before he took a step back, offering you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding. You dabbed delicately at your lips with the handkerchief, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy of the kiss. Jacaerys' touch lingered on your cheek, leaving a tingling sensation.

The ceremony concluded with ceremonial words and blessings, but as you stood beside Jacaerys, you couldn't shake the feeling of disconnection between you. His demeanor remained distant, his eyes often flickering away whenever you sought to meet them.

After the formalities, you found yourself in a small antechamber adjacent to the grand hall where the ceremony had taken place. Jacaerys was silent as attendants bustled around, preparing to escort you away from the ceremony.

“Jacaerys,” you began tentatively, searching for some semblance of understanding or connection, “Can we talk?”

His shoulders slumped, eyes carrying a tire and sadness heavier than the one you’d been seeing for the past weeks. He didn’t hear you, at least that’s what you told yourself as he stood and walked away from you once again, leaving you sat with the stained handkerchief in your hands.

You huffed, anger running through you as you hurried after him. You find him at the heart tree, its ancient branches looming over him like silent sentinels. Jacaerys stood before it, his hands clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the carved face of the tree. His expression was haunted, burdened with the weight of secrets and responsibilities. He mumbled in High Valyrian words that you had still not learned on your own.

“Jacaerys,” you called out softly, approaching him cautiously. He turned to you, his eyes weary. “I didn't mean to startle you,” you continued, your voice gentle yet tinged with the frustration that had been building within you for weeks.

He sighed heavily, “I thought you might come,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely carrying over the rustling leaves of the godswood.

“Why won't you talk to me?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “We're married now, Jacaerys. Avoiding your wife is far harder than avoiding your betrothed.”

Jacaerys turned to face you fully, the weight of his responsibilities etched deeply into his expression. His gaze softened as he took in your presence, the frustration in your voice not lost on him. “I didn't mean to shut you out,” he began, his voice tinged with regret. “I am sorry.”

You stepped closer, standing beside him beneath the ancient heart tree, its presence casting a tranquil yet solemn atmosphere around you. He didn’t speak, both of you staying silent while he shut his eyes, the weariness still evident on his face.

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence once it got too quiet, too tense.

He nodded, “I do,”

“I didn’t know you were faithful to the gods.” you stated, hand moving to touch the tree, his eyes followed your movements carefully.

He hesitated, his gaze drifting from your hand on the tree back to your eyes. “I seek guidance here,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of vulnerability. “It doesn’t always come to me, but-” he stopped talking, shrugging before he let his hand fall from the tree, yours following suit.

“Mother said it would be easier to avoid you,” he mumbled, his voice seemingly weakening. You found yourself reaching out to him, your hand brushed against his, fingers intertwining gently as you stood beneath the heart tree together.

“What would?”

“The marriage, everything, I don’t know.”

Jacaerys didn’t pull away from your touch, though his expression remained guarded. His hand felt warm in yours, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing. The quiet of the godswood enveloped you both.

“But we’re married now, Jacaerys.” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand gently.

Jacaerys' expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we start anew?”

“I would like that,” you said, returning his smile. A comfortable silence fell between you, the tension of the past weeks beginning to ease.

“Perhaps,” Jacaerys suggested hesitantly, “we could continue our High Valyrian lessons together? I've missed our time in the library.”

Your face brightened at the suggestion. “I'd like that very much. I have so many questions about the Doom of Valyria that I've been saving up for you.”

Jacaerys chuckled, a warm sound that you realized you'd missed hearing. “Well then, we'd better get started.”

With a tight hold on your hand, he pulled you gently towards the castle. As you walked back together, a sense of cautious optimism filled the air between you. The silence was no longer tense, but contemplative, as if you were both considering the new beginning that lay ahead.

Entering the grand library, Jacaerys guided you to the familiar corner where you had spent so many hours studying together. He selected a few books from the shelves, their leather bindings worn with age and use. As he set them down on the table, dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the high windows.

Jacaerys looked up at you, his expression softening as he met your gaze. “I chose a few books that might interest you,” he said, his voice gentle. “But perhaps we could talk about these past weeks. I’ve missed you, you know?”

Jacaerys' words hung in the air, the unexpected admission causing a flutter in your chest. You settled into the familiar chair beside him, the scent of old parchment and the quiet rustle of pages creating a comforting cocoon around you both. Despite the turmoil of the past weeks, this small corner of the library had become a refuge, a place where the outside world and its burdens seemed to fade away.

You looked at Jacaerys, his expression open and earnest, the guarded demeanor he had worn like armor slipping away. “I've missed you too,” you replied softly, the truth of your words resonating in the silence that followed.

He gave a small, grateful nod, his fingers absently tracing the edge of one of the books. “Have you been studying on your own?” he began, his voice tinged with regret.

You shrugged, “Hm, There was no one to teach me,”

“There are plenty of maesters, they taught me and my brothers-”

“Nobody in this castle really speaks to me, other than you, now.”

Jacaerys' eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow at your words. He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, seemingly at a loss. The silence between you grew heavy, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. “It’s alright,” you interrupted his thoughts, “Have you any favorite spots in the Keep?”

Jacaerys smiled at your attempt to lighten the mood, clearly grateful for your effort. “I do, actually,” he said, a hint of enthusiasm returning to his voice. “There's a balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay. It's quiet and the view is breathtaking, especially at sunset.”

You nodded, intrigued. “I'd love to see it. Perhaps we can go there sometime?”

Jacaerys' smile widened, his eyes brightening. “I'd like that very much. How about after our lesson today?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed, a grin plastered on your face.

Jacaerys began explaining the text, his voice steady and patient. As he spoke, you found yourself not just listening to the words, but also watching him – the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, the way his fingers moved delicately over the pages. You pretended not to pay any mind to the arm he’d draped over your chair half way through the page you were on at the moment, his fingertips moving up and down your arm and playing with your hair every now and then.

Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the afternoon sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the library. Jacaerys glanced out the window, then back at you. “Shall we go, then?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. Jacaerys led you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his hand in yours, the path becoming more familiar with each step. Finally, you arrived at the balcony he had described.

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, gazing out at the water sparkling under the setting sun.

Jacaerys nodded, his eyes on you. His hand moved to your backside, gently resting there, he drew you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch.

“We could go on a walk after supper,” Jacaerys whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft sounds of the waves.

For the first time since arriving at the Red Keep, you felt a glimmer of what could be between you and Jacaerys.

With a soft sigh of contentment, you turned to Jacaerys and met his gaze, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “A walk sounds nice.” you said, your voice filled with newfound determination and a hint of excitement.

The weeks that followed were a gradual thawing of the ice that had formed between you, a slow but steady warming that began to transform your arranged marriage into something more.

True to his word, Jacaerys resumed your High Valyrian lessons in the library. What started as stilted, formal sessions soon evolved into hours of animated discussion and shared laughter between the two of you, melting away the image of duty-headed Prince Jacaerys. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, eagerly anticipating the smallest hint of time you would spend together.

“Skoros iksis aōha glaesagon uttoma raqiros?” [What is your favorite animal?]

You pondered for a moment, searching for the right words. “Ñuha glaesagon uttoma raqiros iksis... zaldrīzes? Hen se tembyr.” [My favorite animal is... dragon? From the books.]

Jacaerys' smile faltered for a brief moment, so quickly you almost missed it. But then he was grinning again, praising you. “That was really good.”

Moving on, he flipped the page, continuing the lesson as you practiced more High Valyrian together. His patience and encouragement helped you gain confidence in both the language and your interactions with him.

Outside the library, your walks with Jacaerys became a routine. He showed you hidden corners of the Red Keep, sharing stories of its history and his own childhood adventures. You, in turn, shared tales of your own homeland, finding common ground in unexpected places.

As the days passed, you began to see a different side of Jacaerys. The brooding, distant prince was replaced by a man with a quick wit and a passion for knowledge that matched your own. You discovered his love for astronomy, often finding him on the castle's highest tower, charting the movements of stars and planets.

One clear night, he invited you to join him. As you climbed the winding stairs, your heart raced with a mixture of exertion and anticipation. When you reached the top, Jacaerys was waiting, a bronze tube in his hands gleaming in the moonlight.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” he said softly, gesturing for you to look through the eyepiece.

“What is it?” you asked as he handed it to you, you inspected it, mirrored his moves and looked through it.

“To look at the stars,” he came behind you, hands covering yours. Jacaerys stood close behind you, his breath warm on your neck as he pointed out constellations and explained their mythologies that he’d read about in books. You found yourself acutely aware of his presence, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the summer night.

These moments of closeness became more frequent as the weeks went by. You would catch Jacaerys watching you with a soft expression when he thought you weren't looking. His hand would linger on yours a moment longer than necessary when passing you a book. The air between you began to crackle with an unspoken tension, a growing attraction neither of you dared to acknowledge openly, even as husband and wife.

Jacaerys kept visiting the heart tree, his begs for a punishment getting bigger and bigger as he got to know you, the weight of the fate he’d put you up to too strong for him to bear.

After a particularly tense council session, you found Jacaerys in the godswood, his head bowed before the heart tree. You approached quietly, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

“You can join me, you know?” he said without turning, a small smile in his voice. “I always know when you're near.”

You moved to stand beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. Jacaerys was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the carved face of the weirwood. “They ignore me, I think,” he mumbled. “The gods.”

You listened quietly, feeling the weight of his words. The godswood was serene around you, the rustling leaves and the faint whisper of wind creating a backdrop to Jacaerys' contemplation. You didn't interrupt, letting him speak at his own pace.

“I've prayed for guidance, for clarity,” Jacaerys continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I've received nothing. No sign, no answers.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something inside you. You glanced at the heart tree, its solemn face seemingly watching over both of you. “Maybe the gods speak in ways we don't always recognize,” you offered gently. “Or perhaps they're waiting for you to find your own path.”

Jacaerys sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I'm not sure I know what that path is anymore.”

He trailed off, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. You reached out, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Jacaerys,” you murmured.

For a moment, it seemed as though he might tell you everything. His eyes searched for yours, filled with a longing that made your heart ache. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want you to suffer,” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin. You sighed, running your palm over his chest and holding his hand. “Have you been sleeping?”

He nodded, “Yes, a little,” Jacaerys admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, seeking comfort in your touch. “I find it hard to rest sometimes.”

You nodded sympathetically, your thumb gently tracing circles on the back of his hand. The godswood was peaceful around you, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant song of a bird filling the air.

“Come on.” you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand to walk him to his chambers, hoping that sleep would make his worry go away.

The atmosphere in the council chamber had been tense for days. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that only comes when a significant decision hangs in the balance.

Jacaerys sat at the head of the table, his expression solemn. Beside him, Queen Rhaenyra watched with a mixture of maternal concern and royal composure.

“Prince Jacaerys,” one of the maesters began, his voice steady but with a note of urgency. “The time has come to finalize our preparations. The court and the realm await your decision regarding the next steps. Dragonstone must be prepared to receive its... visitor.”

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of their eyes on him. He had known this moment was inevitable, but that did nothing to ease the dread that coiled in his stomach. He looked to his mother, seeking any sign of support or reprieve, but her face remained unreadable. She had taught him well about the burdens of leadership, but this was a trial he had to face alone.

“My lords,” he said finally, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within him. “I understand the importance of tradition and the necessity of the ritual. However, the lady is... not ready.”

Ser Alfred, ever the traditionalist, did not miss a beat. “Your Grace, the ritual must be completed as dictated by our customs. The dragons are restless, and we cannot afford any delay. Dragonstone awaits her arrival.”

Jacaerys's hands tightened around the armrests of his chair. He had expected resistance, but the reality of it was far more daunting than he had imagined. The council's resolve was unyielding, their eyes reflecting the hard truth that duty often demands sacrifices.

“Can’t the dragon be fed… sheep, or pigs?”

“The tradition is sacred, Prince Jacaerys. It is through these rituals that we maintain our bond with the dragon and ensure it’s calm. To suggest an alternative is to risk breaking a chain that has bound our house for centuries.”

Jacaerys felt the pressure mounting, the room closing in around him. He looked to his mother once more, her face a mask of calm. But there was a flicker in her eyes, a silent communication that only he could interpret – a plea to tread carefully.

Queen Rhaenyra finally spoke, her voice smooth and commanding. “The Prince raises a valid point. However, the choice has already been made, the preparations have already begun in Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys’s heart sank at his mother’s words. The finality of the preparations being underway in Dragonstone echoed the inevitability he had been trying to avoid. The room seemed to close in on him, the expectations of his ancestors and the weight of the realm pressing down on his shoulders. He pressed his lips tightly together, grinding his teeth in frustration.

The council resumed their discussions, the tension palpable in the air. Jacaerys listened as the members debated the logistics of the journey to Dragonstone, the protocols to be followed, and the necessary preparations for the lady. Every word felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, each mention of the ritual reinforcing the grim reality he wished to avoid.

He was being ignored by his own Council, his mother and queen quietly sipping her wine as she stole glances at him.

The same maester from before concluded, “We will proceed as planned. The bride will be escorted to Dragonstone, and the ritual will be conducted according to tradition. We cannot afford to falter.”

The meeting adjourned, and the council members rose from their seats, their conversations continuing in hushed tones as they filed out of the chamber. Jacaerys remained seated for a moment, his mind racing with the weight of their decision.

He rose from his seat and made his way to the godswood, seeking solace in the ancient silence of the heart tree once again.

The walk to the godswood was a blur, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. When he finally reached the heart tree, he pressed his palm against the rough bark, feeling the ancient power thrumming beneath his touch. The carved face seemed to gaze back at him, its expression inscrutable.

“Why do you remain silent?” Jacaerys whispered, his voice barely more than a breath carried away by the wind. “Do you not see the weight upon me? The burden of tradition threatens to consume everything I hold dear.”

The heart tree offered no answers, its carved face unmoving, its eyes seeming to gaze through him rather than at him. Jacaerys felt a pang of bitterness and betrayal at the feeling of being helpless, of being ignored by his gods and by his people.

He turned away from the heart tree, pacing restlessly amidst the tranquil setting of the godswood. The gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of the wind offered no comfort. His thoughts raced, his mind replaying the council meeting and the inevitable march towards tradition that seemed to crush any hope of a different outcome.

In that moment of turmoil, his thoughts turned to you – the one person who could ease the burden of his troubled heart. He longed to see you, to escape the suffocating confines of duty and council chambers, to find solace in your presence. You were a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold realities of court politics and ancient rituals.

Without hesitation, Jacaerys made his way back to the Red Keep, his steps quickening with purpose. He sought you out, driven by a need to be with someone who understood him, someone who could offer comfort without words.

Boredom had driven you to the library once again, the Red Keep not having many other activities to keep you occupied while your husband was in the Small Council. The chatter of the Small Council meeting echoed in your mind, their discussions on matters of state and tradition dulling your senses. You recalled Jacaerys' words earlier in your betrothal, his gentle encouragement to explore the library freely, to find respite from the formalities that governed court life.

As you browsed the shelves, your fingers trailing along the spines of ancient tomes, a small, leather-bound volume caught your eye. It was tucked away in a corner, almost hidden behind larger books. Curious, you pulled it out, noting the lack of a title on its worn cover.

Settling into your favorite reading nook by the window, you opened the book carefully. The pages were filled with elegant High Valyrian script, the ink faded but still legible. Your heart quickened with excitement at the challenge of translating this mysterious text.

As you began to read, deciphering the archaic language with the skills you had honed over the past months, the content of the book slowly revealed itself. It appeared to be a chronicle of Targaryen traditions, dating back to the family's origins in Old Valyria.

Your translation was slow at first, but as you progressed, certain phrases began to leap out at you. “Se zaldrīzes demands iā jorrāelagon...” [The dragon demands a sacrifice...]

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you continued, your heart beginning to race as the true nature of the text became clear. “Hen tubis naejot tubis, se dārilaros iksis naejot ōdrikagon iā riña naejot se zaldrīzes...” [From time to time, the heir is to choose a lady for the dragon...]

With trembling hands, you turned the pages, your mind reeling as you pieced together the full horror of what you were reading. The tradition, passed down through generations of Targaryen rulers, of sacrificing a young woman to appease their dragons. The ceremonial marriage, followed by a journey to Dragonstone, where the bride would meet her fate.

As the full implications of what you had discovered washed over you, a cold dread settled in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly, Jacaerys' behavior, the pitying looks from the servants, the whispers that followed you through the halls – it all made terrible sense.

You were not just a bride. You were a sacrifice.

The book slipped from your numb fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the empty library. Your mind raced, trying to reconcile the Jacaerys you had come to know – kind, intelligent, affectionate – with the man who had chosen you for this grim fate.

As the shock began to give way to a mixture of fear and anger, you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you saw Jacaerys entering the library, his face lighting up when he saw you. His expression softened as he took in your familiar presence – a book in your hand, and a furrowed look on your face. But as he drew closer, his expression changed, noticing the pallor of your face.

“What's wrong?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “Are you feeling ill?” He knelt beside you, reaching out tentatively, as if unsure whether to touch you.

You recoiled slightly at his approach, a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside you. Tears continued to flow unabated down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice, to articulate the turmoil that gripped your soul.

He reached for your hand again, this time more insistently, but you pulled away, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. “You... you chose me,” you whispered, your voice laced with accusation. “To be sacrificed.”

He recoiled as if struck, his own eyes filling with tears of remorse and helplessness.

You stood there, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. The sight of Jacaerys, once a source of comfort, now filled you with an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Your eyes, brimming with tears, darted around the room, unable to settle on his face for more than a moment. The urge to flee, to put as much distance between yourself and this man who had deceived you, was almost overpowering.

“How... how could you?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt thick in your throat, as if your body was physically resisting the act of speaking to him. Your hands shook as you clutched the book to your chest, a tangible reminder of the horrifying truth you had uncovered.

Anger bubbled up inside you, mixing with the fear and hurt. It manifested in the way your jaw clenched, in the tightness of your shoulders. You wanted to scream, to rage at him for his deception, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, hot tears spilled down your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil.

You took a step back as Jacaerys moved towards you, your body instinctively recoiling from his presence. The man before you now seemed like a stranger, far removed from the gentle, caring husband you thought you had come to know. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as panic began to set in.

“Stay away from me,” you managed to say, your voice cracking with emotion. The betrayal cut deep, a wound that felt almost physical in its intensity. Your mind raced, replaying every moment, every kind word and gentle touch, now tainted by the knowledge of your true purpose.

Your eyes, wide with fear and glistening with tears, finally met his. In that moment, the full weight of your situation crashed down upon you. You were trapped, bound by tradition and duty to a fate you never asked for, chosen by a man you had begun to trust and even love. The realization left you feeling hollow, your anger giving way to a deep, aching despair.

Jacaerys' face contorted with anguish. He took a hesitant step towards you, his hand outstretched, but you flinched away violently.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Let me explain. I never meant to-”

“To what?” you spat out, finding your voice again. The words came out in a rush, fueled by fear and rage. “To lie to me? To condemn me to death? What exactly didn't you mean to do, Jacaerys?”

“I thought I knew you,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I thought... I thought what we had was real.”

Jacaerys' face crumpled at your words. “It is real,” he insisted, taking another step closer. You backed away, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you. “Everything between us, every moment – it's all been real. I swear it.”

You shook your head violently, unable to reconcile his words with the horrifying truth you'd discovered. “How can you say that?” you demanded, your voice rising hysterically. “How can any of it be real when you've been planning my death this whole time?”

Jacaerys’s expression twisted in agony as he absorbed the impact of your words. He stood rooted to the spot, a few steps away from you, his hand still outstretched as if hoping that a simple gesture could bridge the widening chasm between you.

“I never wanted this,” Jacaerys began, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion.

You shook your head vehemently, tears streaming down your face. “You chose me.” you spat out, your voice cracking.

“No, that's not what I-”

“Then what?” you demanded, your voice rising. “What exactly was your plan? To make me fall for you and then feed me to a dragon?”

Jacaerys's face contorted with pain. “I've been trying to find another way. I've been fighting the council, trying to change things-”

“And failing!” you interjected, your fear and anger boiling over. “All while lying to me every single day!”

“I wasn't lying to you!” Jacaerys protested, his voice rising to match yours. “I was trying to protect you!”

“How can I believe anything you say now?” you cried out, your body shaking with sobs.

Just as Jacaerys opened his mouth to respond, a sharp knock at the library door interrupted your heated exchange. You both froze, turning to see a servant entering hesitantly.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” the servant said, bowing low. “The Small Council requests your immediate presence. They wish to begin preparations for... the journey.”

The servant's eyes flickered between you and Jacaerys, clearly sensing the tension in the room.

You sobbed at the mention of the event, even servants keeping secrecy of your fate.

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, he turned back to you, his eyes pleading. “Please, we need to talk about this. Let me explain-”

But you were already backing away, seizing the opportunity of the interruption to escape. “I wish to be left alone,” you said, your voice trembling. Without another word, you brushed past the confused servant and fled from the library.

Jacaerys stood frozen for a moment, watching as you fled, your sobs echoing through the hallways. His heart ached with the weight of his own guilt and the fear of losing you completely. Ignoring the servant’s continued bowing and murmurings, he sprinted after you, desperate to make you understand.

He reached your chamber door just as you slammed it shut, the sound reverberating down the corridor. He pressed his palms against the heavy wood, his forehead resting against it as he tried to steady his racing heart.

“Please, let me explain!” he called out, his voice thick with desperation. “I know you're hurt and angry, but you need to hear me out!”

Inside, you sank to the floor, your back against the door, tears streaming down your face. Your body shook with silent sobs, the enormity of the betrayal crushing down on you.

“Everything I've done,” Jacaerys continued, his voice muffled through the door, “I've done to protect you. I never wanted to deceive you. I never wanted any of this. But the council, the traditions... they're suffocating us both.”

His words felt like they were trying to reach you, trying to penetrate the thick wall of pain and anger that surrounded your heart. But the fear of your impending fate and the betrayal you felt were too overwhelming.

“Please, you have to believe me,” he begged, his voice breaking. “I love you. That love is real. And I will find a way to save you, I swear it. Just give me a chance to make this right.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The pain, the fear, the betrayal – they were all so raw, so immediate. But beneath it all, a small part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that the man you had come to care for was not the monster this situation painted him to be.

“I don’t know how to trust you again,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear you through the thick door.

“I'll do whatever it takes,” Jacaerys vowed, his voice trembling with determination. “Just... don't shut me out. Please.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with the weight of his words. You stayed where you were, torn between the deep love you had started to feel for him and the horrifying reality you had uncovered. The choice to let him in or to push him away entirely seemed insurmountable in that moment.

With that, he pressed his hand against the door one last time, as if trying to offer some semblance of comfort through the barrier between you, before turning and walking away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your heartache.

When he entered the room, the council members were already deep in discussion, their hushed voices filling the space with an air of urgency. They looked up as he entered, some with mild surprise, others with impatience.

“Your Grace,” the maester began, “we are ready to pick up from where we left off earlier. We were just finalizing the preparations for the journey to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his frustration barely contained. “This madness must end,” he declared, his voice shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation. “We cannot continue with this barbaric tradition. There has to be another way.”

They looked at him as if he was a loose-tempered child, their expressions a mix of annoyance and dismissal. Jacaerys stood firm, his eyes burning with intensity as he faced the council that seemed so indifferent to his pleas.

“Your Grace,” the man interjected, his tone patronizing, “tradition is not something to be discarded lightly. It is what binds us to our heritage, what ensures the stability of our rule. The dragons demand their due.”

Jacaerys shook his head in disbelief. “Is that all you see her as? A 'due' to be paid?” His voice cracked with emotion, his frustration boiling over.

One of the maesters, an older man with a stern look and a long gray beard, spoke up with a dismissive tone. “Your Grace, emotions have clouded your judgment. The girl is but a vessel for the ritual, a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of our house and the realm. Your sentimental attachment to her blinds you to the realities of our traditions.”

Jacaerys's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He could feel his anger rising like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm him. “You dare speak of my wife like that again and I shall have your tongue for it.”

The maester who had spoken before, undeterred by Jacaerys's threat, leaned forward with a smirk playing on his lips. “Your Grace, threats will not change the course of history. The traditions of House Targaryen are not to be trifled with, even by a king.”

“The dragon will be fed sheep, or pigs, or cows. I do not care for what it is, just not an innocent, not her.”

The council members glanced at each other again, murmuring amongst themselves in low voices. They seemed to reach an unspoken agreement, their gazes finally settling on Jacaerys with a mixture of pity and resignation.

“Your Grace,” the maester said with a sigh, Jacaerys shook his head, turning on his heel and storming out of the council chamber, leaving the members behind in a stunned silence. All heads turned to look at the empty seat of the Queen, who was absent from the meeting to be with her children.

The preparations proceeded.

Outside the chamber, he paused for a moment, leaning against the cool stone wall to catch his breath. His thoughts turned to you, his heart aching with the fear of losing you to the cruel tradition that dictated your fate. He couldn't bear the thought of what awaited you on Dragonstone, of the horror you must feel now that you knew the truth.

With a deep breath, Jacaerys pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk briskly through the corridors of the Red Keep. His steps were purposeful, driven by a desperate need to find a way to protect you, to defy the council's decree despite their authority. His mind raced with plans and strategies, each one more daring than the last.

As he passed by servants and guards, he saw the pity in their eyes, the whispers that followed him like a shadow. They knew of the impending sacrifice, of the council's decision, and of his futile attempts to defy it. Yet, despite their sympathy, Jacaerys knew he couldn't rely on anyone else to challenge the council openly. The risk was too great, the consequences too dire.

Finally, he reached the familiar door of your chambers. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted it to knock, unsure of how you would receive him after your confrontation in the library. He knew he had hurt you deeply, that his actions had shattered the trust you had begun to build between you.

Before he could knock, however, the door swung open suddenly. The sight of you standing there, eyes red from tears, took his breath away. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air between you.

He whispered your name, almost as if it was a secret, his hands reaching out to attempt to hold yours. You moved away, “I only wish to go to supper, the Queen is waiting.”

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his throat tight with unspoken words and unshed tears. He knew you were still hurting, still grappling with the betrayal he had inadvertently caused. The thought of losing you, of facing the council's cold and calculated decisions alone, sent a wave of despair crashing over him.

“I... I will not keep you.” he murmured finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded slightly, your gaze flickering to the side, unable to meet his eyes. The pain and confusion swirled within you, making it difficult to think clearly or to know what to say next.

Stepping back from the door, you slipped away from him, the distance between you feeling insurmountable. Jacaerys watched you go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he was losing you, at least for now.

The walk to supper was silent and uncomfortable. Each step felt like a burden, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Servants passed by, casting sympathetic glances your way, their whispered conversations barely registering as you made your way to the dining hall.

“My dear,” she greeted you warmly, though her eyes held a hint of concern. “I trust everything is well?”

You managed a tight-lipped smile, nodding slightly. “Yes, Your Grace,” you replied softly, avoiding her gaze.

Sensing your need for space, she made no further inquiries, allowing the meal to proceed in an uneasy silence.

Throughout supper, you picked at your food, the taste of bitterness lingering on your tongue. The empty seat beside yours, your husbands, felt like a void, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you. You glanced at it occasionally, half-expecting Jacaerys to appear, to fix it all with a snap of his fingers. But he did not materialize, leaving you to wrestle with your conflicted feelings alone.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, with her regal bearing and perceptive gaze, had always been keenly attuned to the emotional currents of those around her. As she observed you across the table during supper, she noticed the tension in your posture, the haunted look in your eyes, and the way you absently picked at your food.

Her own son's absence did not go unnoticed either. The empty seat beside you seemed to cast a shadow over the otherwise elegant atmosphere of the dining hall. Rhaenyra's eyes flickered towards it briefly, a fleeting moment of concern crossing her features before she schooled her expression into one of serene composure.

After a quiet and tense supper, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen rose gracefully from her seat, her gaze lingering briefly on the empty chair beside you before she moved towards the doors of the dining hall. Her steps were measured, her presence commanding even in the subdued atmosphere.

As she exited the hall, servants darted forward to attend to her, but she waved them off with a subtle gesture. Instead, she continued down the corridor that led towards the private chambers reserved for the royal family. Her mind was focused on one thing: finding her son, Jacaerys, and offering him whatever support and counsel she could in his time of need.

Rhaenyra found Jacaerys in his private study, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls that spoke of the history of Dragonstone and the ancient rituals of House Targaryen. He looked up as she entered, his expression a mixture of determination and weariness.

“Mother,” Jacaerys greeted her, his voice subdued yet filled with a quiet resolve. Queen Rhaenyra closed the door behind her, the quiet click echoing softly in the study as she approached her son. Jacaerys stood by his desk, surrounded by the weight of ancient knowledge and the burden of his current dilemma. His eyes, weary and troubled, met hers as she drew near.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. “The dragon must be fed, as tradition dictates.”

“No-” he interrupted.

“Jacaerys, listen to me,” she began softly.

He closed his mouth, frustration still evident on his face as he glared at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Ten sheep, as a symbolic gesture to fulfill the dragon's hunger. It will appease the tradition without sacrificing an innocent life. Like you said.”

Jacaerys remained silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he mulled over her words. The weight of the decision pressed heavily upon him; he wanted desperately to protect you, yet he also feared the council's resistance to any deviation from the established ritual.

“It's risky,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But if there's even a chance...”

“We must take it,” Rhaenyra affirmed, her voice gentle yet firm. “I feel your heavy heart, my son. You are hurt.”

Rhaenyra's words cut through the turmoil swirling in Jacaerys's mind, her understanding of his pain offering a momentary comfort amidst the uncertainty.

“I can't bear to lose her, Mother,” Jacaerys confessed quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “She trusted me, and I... I betrayed that trust.”

Rhaenyra reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of maternal comfort. “Love makes us vulnerable, my son,” she murmured softly. “But it also gives us strength. You must believe in that strength now, for her sake and for yours.”

The day dawned with a heavy pall hanging over Dragonstone, the air thick with anticipation and dread. Servants moved about the castle with quiet efficiency, their expressions somber as they attended to their duties. Among them, preparing for the ritual that loomed ahead, was you.

Your mind felt numb, detached from the reality of what was to come. Every brush of the comb through your hair, every adjustment to your gown felt surreal, like you were watching someone else's life unfold. The knowledge of your impending sacrifice weighed heavily, a constant, gnawing ache in your chest that refused to abate.

Jacaerys, your husband, moved through the chambers with an air of quiet resolve. His eyes, usually warm and reassuring, now held a depth of sadness you couldn't bear to meet. He had sworn to his mother to keep the plan involving the sheep a secret, and despite the rocky state of your relationship, he ached to tell you.

As the time drew near, you found yourself seated beside Jacaerys in the carriage bound for the dragon pit. The journey was quiet, the clatter of hooves against cobblestones the only sound breaking the heavy silence between you. His presence beside you was both a source of solace and a reminder of the fractured trust between you.

You stole glances at him occasionally, noting the tension etched in his features, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. There were words unsaid, wounds still raw and unhealed, but in this moment, facing the inevitable, you craved for his comfort.

Silently, you reached to place a hand on his thigh, stopping his leg from moving up and down in anxiousness.

He turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours for understanding, for forgiveness. The weight of his secret, the burden of the deception he had carried to protect you, threatened to crush him. Yet, in that moment, your touch grounded him, reminding him of the love that still flickered between you despite everything.

You held his gaze, your own eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and longing. Words seemed inadequate in the face of what lay ahead, in the face of the unspoken turmoil between you. But your touch spoke volumes, a silent reassurance that even amidst the chaos, you were still connected.

Jacaerys covered your hand with his own, his touch gentle yet firm. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, a gesture of comfort and apology. There were no words to express the depth of his regret, the anguish of seeing you face such a fate.

“I will fix this,” he promised in a whisper. You frowned at him and he felt his heart drop once again, your trust for him was fully gone. “I swear it.” he murmured against your hair, his voice hoarse.

You withdrew your hand from his grasp, the gesture a silent but clear indication of the distance that had grown between you. His heart ached at the loss of your touch, a physical manifestation of the emotional rift that now divided you. You remained silent, the weight of his promise echoing in the space between you.

As the carriage finally reached its destination, the stark cliffs of Dragonstone rose ominously before you. Servants hurried to prepare for the landing, their movements efficient and solemn. The dragons' presence loomed in the background, a constant reminder of the ancient forces that governed their lives.

Jacaerys helped you disembark from the carriage, his touch tentative yet filled with an unspoken plea for forgiveness. You stood side by side, facing the imposing fortress and the council that awaited your arrival.

From the distance, you could see the beast, a dragon stood tall before the castle, many men parading around it holding sticks to prevent it from causing any damage other than his feast, you.

Jacaerys’ gaze moved to his mother, her arms crossed over her chest as she gave him a stern nod, telling him that the sheep were hidden, prepared to replace you just as they’d planned.

The servants moved away, maesters following behind as the hair walked you to the dragon, just like it was written in the books of tradition. Jacaerys was supposed to leave you standing in front of the dragon, leave and hide away in a corner before shouting the known command for you to be burnt. A private tradition for only husband and wife, for heir and sacrifice to see.

Your body shook in fear as you walked behind your husband, your hand grasping onto his red cape. He reached behind his body, his hand holding yours in hopes to calm you.

The dragon loomed ahead, its scaled form bathed in sunlight that glinted off its massive wings and claws. Men with sticks stood guard around it, their wary eyes trained on the beast as well as on you and Jacaerys. They stepped away once the Prince approached.

Jacaerys's steps faltered briefly as he glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and determination. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his grip firm yet gentle, a silent promise of his unwavering resolve to protect you at any cost.

As you approached the dragon, the enormity of the moment threatened to overwhelm you. Images from the ancient books of tradition flashed through your mind—husbands and wives standing before dragons, the command to burn uttered in hushed reverence. It was a private ritual, a solemn duty passed down through generations, and now it seemed poised to consume you.

You and Jacaerys were left standing on your hand, your hand clasped tightly in his as you tried to even your breaths.

The dragon's gaze shifted, its attention momentarily drawn away as it sensed movement in the shadows. Jacaerys's breath caught in his throat, his grip on your hand tightening instinctively. For a fleeting moment, hope flared within you, a glimmer of possibility that the plan might succeed, that the ancient beast might accept the substitution.

But as the dragon turned back to you, its eyes narrowing with curiosity, the moment of truth arrived. Jacaerys turned to look at his mother, rushing with one of her maids behind her, and the promised sheep gathered. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that washed over him, his hand letting go of yours to hold onto your waist and push you close to him as he quickly dragged the two of you away from the beast’s hungry eyes.

Together, you moved swiftly through the courtyard, away from the dragon and towards the safety of the castle's empty interior, the council already having left for their journey back to the Keep. Jacaerys's grip on your waist remained firm, his touch a reassurance of his steadfast protection in the face of danger. His mother kept pace beside you, her expression unreadable but tinged with a glimmer of pride in her son's daring defiance of tradition.

As you reached the threshold of the castle, Jacaerys finally allowed himself a moment to breathe, his gaze sweeping over you with relief and lingering concern. The weight of what had transpired hung heavy in the air, the daring gamble to spare you from the dragon's maw a testament to Jacaerys's unwavering determination and love.

Inside the safety of the castle walls, away from the dragon's menacing presence, Jacaerys pulled you into a tight embrace. His voice, thick with emotion, whispered words of gratitude and apology against your hair. You clung to him, the rush of adrenaline giving way to overwhelming relief and the beginnings of forgiveness.

From afar, you could hear the Queen voice the command, you watched in silence – as Jacaerys clung to you – the dragon spitting fire at the animals, the two women hurrying out of the way while it ate at the sheep.

You felt a sob leave your throat at the sight, turning your body to fit into Jacaerys’ as you incoherently mumbled words of gratitude, his lips brushing against your skin every time he spoke caringly at you, apologizing, thanking the gods.

“You're safe now,” Jacaerys murmured against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I never wanted any of this for you.”

“Please... Please forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but I swear to you, I will spend every moment proving myself to you.”

You buried your face in his chest, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. His words of remorse and desperation washed over you, mingling with the relief of surviving the ordeal.

“I'm so sorry,” Jacaerys continued, his voice choked with emotion as he whispered. “I should have told you everything from the beginning. I never meant to deceive you, to put you through this. Please, I beg you... take whatever time you need. I understand if you can't ever forgive me.”

You felt his words reverberate through your chest, each syllable heavy with remorse and love. His vulnerability touched your heart, reminding you of the man you had fallen in love with despite the secrets that had threatened to tear you apart.

“I need you to know,” Jacaerys whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back. “I love you. More than anything. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It began as a whisper, a soft meeting of lips that conveyed all the unspoken words – the apologies, the gratitude, the hope for a future together. The taste of salt from lingering tears mixed with the sweetness of relief, creating a bittersweet sensation that only deepened the connection between you.

Jacaerys responded with an enthusiasm that spoke volumes. His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss deepened, filled with a yearning that transcended the physical, binding your souls together in a moment of deep intimacy.

His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, pouring out his heart in the touch of his mouth on yours. In that embrace, amidst the echoes of their shared ordeal, you found solace and strength in each other's arms.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Jacaerys' lips, his eyes shining with gratitude. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands tenderly caressing your cheeks as if trying to imprint the moment into memory. You nestled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

“One step at a time,” you mumbled, catching from the corner of your eye, the hint of a smile fighting to appear on his face.

Together, you stood in the quiet sanctuary of the castle, your bodies pressed close as if seeking solace in each other's presence. The weight of what had transpired hung in the air, but so did a glimmer of hope – a hope that with time and effort, your love could mend the fractures that had threatened to break you apart.

Jacaerys seemed unconcerned with the Council's potential reaction to his and his mother's defiance of tradition, wholly absorbed in the moment. His thoughts were consumed by your scent and the significance of your first kiss since your wedding. He silently hoped it marked the beginning of a new normal, regardless of the Council's opinions upon your return to the Red Keep.

taglist: @smurfelle @earth4angels @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 (taglist link is on pinned!)

#jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys #hotd #house of the dragon #harry collett #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon one shot

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chaosandmarigolds · 4 months

Text

I’m laying in bed and drastically bored so I present-

Whatever this could be classified as (fem!reader, (literally a millisecond mention of pregnancy) ypos cause it’s written on my phone :) )

Dad!Simon, who has a sick spouse and child at the same time and he doesn’t feel great either but he’ll DIE with that information

Simon who got sprite, saltines, and just about everything he could think of from the store and yet you and Ollie were still unable to keep anything down

You laugh it off, saying it happens every year, just a school bug and you’ll be fine in no time

Ollie is playing it up, he doesn’t feel good but as soon as he sees his father look worried and willingly offer him ice cream for breakfast- oh lil guy is going to Oscars for his performance

Simon who peppers kisses to your skin even though you every much tell him he will get sick- well tricks on you because he already feels sick

Simon who calls Missus Price for that soup she made that one time from like eight years ago (technically it had been for her husband John but John was unconscious at the time so Simon and Johnny had it-anyway-) when they were deployed and she delivered!

Missus Price, Eliza, who tsk tsks at the state of the Riley family and tells Simon to sit because good God everyone looked like they were on the brink of death and that would not do

So she happily tidies everything up, puts some defusers on to help the congestion, makes sure everyone takes their medication (has to literally threaten Ollie, but as soon as Grandad was brought up the child obliged) made two meals and put them away, did the laundry, and left a little note “Feel better, loves.” Before leaving around midnight that night.

Simon who really woke up feeling a lot better, stretching in the bed to find Ollie laying diagonally across the bed still fast asleep and you were no where to be seen- expect for leaning against the cold bathtub in the bathroom

Simon who groggily sits down next to you, eyes squinting against the light and moving you to lean into him

“This sucks.”

“I know, ‘a jus drainage though, it’ll go away.”

“Allergies suck.”

“Agree with ya.”

A few moments pass

“Your fever broke.”

You’re not wrong, but the way your rasped and hoarse voice mumbles it almost made him laugh, “Oh? Ho’ ya know?”

“You’re sweaty, that’s how. And olls-“

“Still sleeping.”

“Mmkay.”

Simon who would happily carry you to the ends of the earth but at the moment back to bed would do

Simon who went down to the kitchen to get your tea when he found the note, reading it and giving a silent thank you to whatever god sent him such a sweet woman- yet faltered when he sees the little blue and white box, it’s a sticky note attached saying “just in case”

Simon who didn’t think about and brought you the tea and turned on the tv, having you tucked under his arm and Ollie very groggily watching Bluey

(Yeah idk what this is, maybe I had too much melatonin. I’m so sorry you’re subjected to this. Anyway….thats it <3)

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #coco's chaos <3 #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #cod x you #coco’s pre k universe! <3

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nothingbutsweetwords · 5 months

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ..."

Word count: 3,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING — 1. Her.

Her legs, without any command and with an unstoppable perseverance, set off through the labyrinthine corridors of the red keep towards her mother's chambers long before the phrase fully reached her ears, the one she had so longed for: "The baby has been born, my princess."

Her family was her most loved treasure and when her mother announced the big news, time seemed to slow down. She couldn't wait to have that baby in her arms and cherish every second the gods, those she fervently prayed to, would allow her to spend with him.

Every night, in silent supplications, she repeated to any who would listen: "Please, let him be born healthy. Please, take care of my mother."

Rhaenyra painfully held in her heart the memory of her mother Aemma's early departure from the world. She wanted to shield her little ones from all fear and anguish, so she didn't dwell on details about that traumatic episode, one that, despite the years, remained as a deep and open wound. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the whispers, those that seeped into her daughter's ears, creating such intense fear that she barely had room to breathe during those long nine months.

She felt a smile so wide it would ache her cheeks later and feet that weren't fast enough. Upon reaching the large wooden door, she took a few seconds to take a deep breath, calm her racing nerves, and finally push it open with determination.

Her entrance went unnoticed, as all eyes in the room were on the small human being now peacefully resting in her father's arms.

Except hers, no, those were on the woman sitting on the couch. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hair tousled and a tired expression adorned her face; yet never, in her short years on this earth, had she seen her so beautiful.

"Mother" she murmured almost voicelessly, taking her hands in hers and seeking her gaze. She felt her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, and a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak again, but her voice got lost along the way. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary; Rhaenyra knew her as well as herself and could read her like an open book.

"My love, please, have no fear, we are okay" with those simple words, her lungs filled with air, swelling her chest. She let out a sigh, laden with relief, laden with love. She could only nod in response.

"Sister, look!" Jacaerys exclaimed, drawing her attention. He lifted the lid of the large steel chest, releasing steam and revealing a dragon egg.

"We choose an egg for the baby" Lucerys added.

"That looks like the perfect one, brothers" she said with a smile, though a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. Unlike her brothers, her own egg had never hatched, a disappointment she carried permanently with her, though she tried not to show it in these moments of happiness.

"I let Luke choose" he said, she messed up the younger one's hair and planted a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, my princess, I thought it best to escort the lads" intervened Harwin Strong, adorned in his imposing armor and golden cloak. It didn't surprise her seeing him there; in fact, despite having a different last name, she considered him part of her family.

He was her protector, who always escorted her to her room, pampered her with luxurious books, and listened attentively to every word she said. She had more memories of him than of her own father, but she didn't complain; she knew he was a busy man. Harwin had tried to teach her the art of the sword, insisting on the importance of knowing how to defend herself, but she always found herself more interested in books. Besides, she had the feeling that he would never neglect watching her back.

"Laenor and I thank you, Commander" she heard her mother say.

"Father, may I see it?" she asked. Laenor knelt down, allowing the three of them to meet the new member of the family. It only took one look for him to completely captivate her. She mentally swore that nothing would ever harm him as long as she breathed. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?"

"Another boy, I heard" Harwin cleared his throat. "Might I?" he asked, seeking her mother's approval. She thought she saw a glimpse of the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey" she said, smiling. Upon hearing that name, her lips formed another smile. Of course, she would have been equally happy if it were a girl, but she was glad to still be the only one. It had its advantages.

"Of course" Laenor agreed. Rising, he gently placed Joffrey in Harwin's arms.

"Joffrey, is it?" her father nodded in agreement to the question.

"Mother, please may I hold Joffrey?" she asked excitedly, reaching out her arms towards him. A futile attempt, of course, the man in front of her easily doubled her height.

"No, mother, let me go first! I'm the strongest, I won't let him fall!" her twin brother vociferated.

"I won't let him fall either!" she countered.

Her younger brother joined in the pleas, arguing that he had the right because he was the youngest. Soon, the words melded into an indistinguishable uproar, as all three clamored in unison.

"No, no, no" her father hastened as Harwin turned his back to them, trying to prevent the disturbances from reaching the ears of the newborn.

"I think you left your septa waiting, my little lady, and back to the dragon pit for you two, before they send out a search party" he ushered the three younger ones out of the room, and gently pushed their shoulders, guiding them down the hallway. First, towards the room she had left only minutes ago, where her septa awaited along with Helaena, her mother's younger sister.

Her father left her at the door, and the expression on her face, the one she believed she was successfully hiding, betrayed her. Laenor crouched down to her height, gently taking her cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"You know, Leana had an egg that didn't hatch... and she didn't ride a dragon until she was five and ten. Now she rides Vhagar," he tried to cheer her up, "your time will come, dear daughter, I promise."

She was filled with hope at her father's promises. He always had the right words. She thanked the man she loved so much with a kiss on the cheek, and now with renewed energy, she entered the room.

Despite the repeated complaints from the septa, they remained on the floor; she leaned her back against the wall, while Helaena rested her head on her legs. She explored the pages of the book while playing with her hair, and when a passage caught her attention, she read it aloud to her aunt, who entertained herself by watching a long insect walk on her hands. They didn't share the same interests, not even could it be said that they understood each other, but they enjoyed each other's company and were grateful of having another princess of almost the same age as a confidante.

"This one has 60 rings and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240" remarked Helaena.

"Yes, you're right, I think... Did you know that Vhagar is 170 years old?" she responded, her eyes widening at the new information. "That's exceptional."

"The last ring doesn't have legs," Helaena pointed out, overlooking her niece, more interested in the insect "it has eyes, though I don't believe it can see."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is that so?"

"It's beyond our understanding."

She didn't know how much time they had spent in that position, but when she shifted her attention from the book due to noises approaching from the corridors, she noticed that the septa had already left and in her place was Alicent. The new companion was sitting a few meters away from them, holding a cup of tea and with her gaze lost in the window.

Suddenly, two king’s guards burst into the room, each holding one of Aemond's arms, alarming her.

"Your Grace" they left without waiting for any response, closing the doors behind them.

"Aemond, what have you done?" Alicent approached him quickly, scrutinizing him, and exclaimed exasperatedly while gripping his shoulders firmly, "after how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?"

"They made me do it!" the young prince shouted in his defense.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding" she furrowed her brow again upon noticing the same phrase that had come out of Helaena's mouth minutes ago.

Returning her attention to the argument in front of her, she noted that the prince's platinum hair and his green garments were stained black. Realization fell into her, she widened her eyes, astonished. Had he really ventured into the dragon pit? Alone?

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?" the queen asked.

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig" detailed, his voice breaking slightly.

She knew Aegon and she knew her brothers, and even though she was certain the last two had only been pawns used in the prank, a mixture of anger and disappointment washed over her. How could they tease and deceive the good prince in such a way? Worse still, with something that was also the cause of her tears.

"If he wants one, he'll have to close one eye" the princess beside her said, her gaze still fixed on the tiny entity. She spoke loud enough for only her to hear.

Her words were puzzling, and she didn't know how to interpret them. They could either indicate that she was still in her little world or suggest something deeper; it wouldn't be the first time for either option. She had heard her say... things before; at first, they seemed like mere nonsensical words, and suddenly something happened, something that reminded her of her words, something that led her to believe that her aunt had some kind of magic. No one had paid much attention to her when she shared her theory, dismissing it with disdain, saying they were just coincidences. But to her, it seemed like more than mere chance connections.

"Everyone laughed" Aemond murmured, trying to hide his sadness. Her anger now replaced by deep empathy. Alicent wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

The prince looked just as distressed as he left the hug and walked away as he did when he entered. It reminded her of her own feelings of desolation and loneliness, and she thought that there was no one in the kingdom who could understand her like he did. Not really.

She always had a special connection with Jace, a twin connection, as they enjoyed calling it. They understood each other with just looks, laughed at the same jokes, and shared the same tastes, except for the obvious; he loved his sword, she preferred her books. On the other hand, Luke had always been her little and spoiled one, her sweet and innocent child. That's why the situation had affected her so much. She didn't believe her brothers had meant to hurt Aemond, but they did anyway. They were insensitive, and she didn't want to see them grow up like Aegon, who with his character showed that he didn't know the true meaning of consequences.

It had been a few days since the incident in the pit and the birth of her brother, who was under the care of Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting.

She tried not to lift her gaze from her plate and ate in silence, ignoring her brothers, offering them only monosyllabic responses. She was furious and intended to make it obvious. She huffed in frustration, trying to get her mother's attention so she could bring up the issue to the table.

"My dear, what troubles your mind?" she heard her mother ask as she gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Mother, have you heard about the incident in the dragon pit?" noticing her mother's concerned and confused look, she hurried to reassure her, "no one is hurt... not physically, at least."

"What happened?" her mother looked inquisitively at her sons, their heads looking down, ashamed.

"Jace, Luke, and Aegon played a prank on Prince Aemond. They told him they had a dragon for him and gave him a pig with wings, they even named it! Pink Dread." The children couldn't contain their laughter at the memory, which only made her angrier.

"Is that true?" her mother asked, wiping the smile from both their faces. It wasn't common to hear her upset or see her with a serious expression.

"It was just a joke!" Jace tried to justify.

"Aegon planned it!" Luke interjected.

"I don't want to hear justifications" she silenced them. "What if that joke had been towards your sister? Would you still be laughing?"

"It's different" Jace muttered, while Luke's lip trembled in a pout.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow during training, you will offer the appropriate apologies. From the heart. Aemond is family, and we must look out for each other. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, mother" they chorused, serious and repentant.

"Now you may retire to your chambers and think about what you've done," their mother pronounced, and before they could respond, she added, "no complaints." They nodded and left in silence.

"I think Aemond could use some kind words, don't you agree?" Rhaenyra suggested minutes later, breaking the silence. She responded with a smile, thanking her for understanding the importance of this to her. "Who better than you to do it?" She rose from her seat and embraced her gently, for she could see her still in pain. She planted a kiss on her forehead, the kind she cherished so much.

"Rest, mother. I'll ask the maester to make you some tea."

She smiled after hearing her daughter, thinking that any pain felt and to be felt would be an insignificant price to pay considering all she had gained. Jace, the next heir to the throne, who would reign with peace and intelligence; Luke and Joffrey, who would be the greatest and most honorable knights; and her daughter, her eternal and sweet companion.

There was no need to ask questions; she knew where to find him. A few floors up was the library, her second room, her refuge, where the world became a little quieter and she could transport herself to other times, places and lives.

She ascended the long stairs quickly, and within minutes, she stood at the door. This hallway had always been one of the least traveled, practically deserted, except for them and the king’s guards. It seemed there weren't many avid readers in the keep.

They used to be at opposite ends of the table, immersed in each of their books. She had always wanted to talk to him, ask him what he was reading and maybe ask him to teach her High Valyrian. However, she never did; she had been too shy in his presence, and Aemond's distant form didn't help. Perhaps he was shy like her.

Or perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to her.

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the library. She smiled to herself when she saw she hadn't been wrong.

"Good morrow, uncle" she announced her arrival as she headed to the usual shelf and picked up the book she had left halfway through a few days ago.

"Good morrow, niece" he responded with his usual seriousness.

She walked to the table and hesitated. Should she sit closer to him this time? She didn't want to invade his space, but she also didn't believe that a conversation should start at a distance.

She arrived at the table before deciding and stood there for a few seconds. She ended up placing her book at the usual spot and sat down, feeling uncomfortable.

Why was she feeling this way? She wasn't the one who played a distasteful joke, besides, he was family; they had grown up together in the castle, it shouldn't be so difficult.

Suddenly, she felt warmth engulf her when she noticed Aemond looking at her, puzzled. With the book still closed, her cheeks turned red as she realized she had been staring at him all this time, lost in her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself and searched for the page she was on. He looked away, not saying a word.

Her mother had asked her to talk to him and she had really wanted to, so she didn't understand why she found it so hard to approach him.

She audibly sighed and abruptly closed her book. He did the same seconds later. As always.

It was curious; every time they were here, they seemed… united, connected in their readings; when she finished, he did too, shortly after. They put away their books, and he walked to the exit, hurriedly, and then held the door, patiently waiting for her to exit. They parted ways upon reaching the floor of their chambers, all without exchanging a word other than greetings or thanks.

The king and the queen did a good job with him and Helaena. She couldn't say the same about Aegon, unfortunately.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he got up from his chair, so, with her book in hand, marched towards him.

Aemond furrowed his brow; he didn't seem upset, rather bewildered by the new proximity when she took the seat to his right and opened her book again, an action he imitated seconds later.

She found it impossible to read; she observed the page, but the words blurred together as her mind was occupied with something else. How should she start? It was clear they had something in common. Two things, in fact. Long conversations weren't necessary to know it, so she ventured there.

She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, without success. Then, timidly, she placed her hand on his, causing an immediate reaction.

He remained still, stunned by her movements. He just looked at her, with eyes wider than usual. It was then that she realized how different they were from the rest of their family. Her grandsire, her mother, Aegon, Helaena, they all had eyes as clear as the sky on a sunny day. But not him, his were darker, bluer, with a trace of purple in them. As deep as the sea, and as beautiful as a sapphire. His hair was straighter, platinum, and even softer, she would dare to say.

How she wished to have the Targaryen attributes, just as distinctive as they were beautiful. Another one of her biggest insecurities and sorrows. It wasn't uncommon for people to be surprised when they saw her and her siblings next to their parents, as they hadn't inherited such beauty. They were equally pale, but with a tumultuous mane, full of curls, of the darkest black and eyes sometimes green, sometimes brown.

Once again, she felt the red fill her cheeks, her gaze lost in him as her thoughts swirled.

"Do you know that my father's sister also had an unhatched egg? Just like us," she said, softly, looking him in the eyes and trying to comfort him, "now she's the rider of Vhagar, the oldest, largest, and most feared dragon in the entire kingdom."

She waited for a response that didn't come. "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" then added. He only nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers, "I wanted to apologize."

Now with a confused look, Aemond finally decided to respond, "why?"

"They shouldn't have done it... It was cruel." Understanding dawned on him.

"No need to apologize for something that you did not do, niece." She couldn't help but smile at his words. Was he always so serious and formal? She thought he was like an adult trapped in the body of a little boy. An old soul.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course."

"Did you really enter the dragon pit? Alone?" she asked, curious. She noticed his face changing, a smirk of pride forming, his lips curling up into a small smile as he straightened up in his chair, now more upright.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see any?"

"Yes, but it was too dark to know which one..." he began, with a spark in his eyes, and noticing her attentive gaze, he decided to continue "it throwed fire in my direction" he added, her eyes wider than before, conveying her astonishment.

"Gods! You must have been so terrified."

"Not really" he simply responded.

"That was... you're incredibly brave, my prince. I wouldn't have had the courage" she said and received a wide smile in return. She had never called him "my prince" before and she had never seen him smile.

She continued to listen attentively. No history book had ever excited her as much as the prince's adventures, and seeing him so enthusiastic about telling them filled her chest with something she didn't know how to name. Something warm. She liked it.

Despite it being their first real conversation, and the first time they looked each other in the eyes, there was a mutual understanding, a connection, different, special. One that went beyond being dragonless riders or relatives raised under the same roof.

It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when she felt a knock on the doors and a voice announcing that it was supper time and Alicent awaited for her son's presence. Both of them showed disappointment at the interruption; he seemed to have so much more to say and she hadn't had enough of his words. She thought she could listen to him for the rest of her days.

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he said before standing up, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." His words elicited a laugh from her lips, as it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don't have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

Once they had put the books back in their place, they walked to the door.

"I do not think that's possible" Aemond communicated with his hand on the doorknob. There was silence as they descended the stairs with the guards behind them.

"Goodnight, my princess" he said once they reached the floor, calling her that way for the first time.

"Goodnight, my prince."

"Perhaps tomorrow we could... continue?" It came out almost as a whisper from Aemond's lips. A smile on hers.

"Nothing would make me happier."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 year

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Any new ideas for congratulations! It's triplets? Love the idea of Jason just freaking out and trying to figure out how to build a relationship with his kids while being made fun of by his family and said kids. Especially if he goes overprotective mode because Danny has clown trauma too and gets snagged by the joker

Jason watches as Danny- his son.- impatiently taps his fingers against the table. His boy's gaze was looking at everything, taking in the big fancy Wayne Mannor with a sort of disinterest he was not expecting of a child so young.

His sister and Brother- both with alarmingly similar names- were also disinterested, but Dani was swinging her legs, and Dan was tapping his spoon and fork against the table in a fast-paced drumming.

It's strange to know he would fidget a lot as a kid but he always resorted to finger tapping. Was the tripples little habit from him? He wonders what else they inherited and what he missed out on seeing.

"I don't understand," Jasmine said, overlooking the contract Bruce's lawyers wrote up. " Why would you want custody now? It's been five years."

"I didn't know." Jason swallows past the lump in his throat as she gives him an unimpressed stare over the paper. He feels Bruce place a hand on his shoulder, and the silent support allows him to continue. "If I have, I wouldn't have ever let them grow up without me."

"Jason doesn't want full custody," Tim cuts in with a soft voice that has tricked lesser men into selling their shares. He and the rest of his family are all sitting across from Jassmin Fenton, as she is carefully lured back to the manor to discuss their next step. "He just wants to be part of his kid's lives and would happily share that with you."

"Not telling him about the kids sort of played into that," Steph mutters tactlessly. Unfortunately, her voice carries, and the woman across from them bristles.

There is a tense moment where he thinks Jassmin is about to curse them all out before she sighs and slumps in her seat. "Well, it wasn't like I had a means to contact you when I found out. You gave me a fake name."

Jason winces. "I sort of forgot I told you my name was Petter."

"Wasn't a total lie" Dani chirps "It is your middle name."

Jasmine rubs her eyes. "Look, Jason, I don't want to stop you from seeing the kids, but this is all too much right now. I'm dealing with a lot right now-"

"You are currently homeless," Damian cuts in, causing Jasmine to stop in genuine bewilderment.

"No, we're not." Dan scoffs. "You were waiting for us at our house. Waiting to ambush us."

"The house that was on the street that Poison Ivy just destroyed," The boy says, showing everyone his phone screen. There, clear as day is, their home is nothing but rumble. Jasmine's face spams, and she quickly checks her phone, paling at what she reads.

"Oh, Ancients. It's gone. It's all gone," She whispers, gripping the phone. The three kids immediately stiffen, watching their mother with strange intensity. Too aware of what this means.

They were mature for their age, and that is never a good thing.

Oh gods. Did his children live on the streets? Had Jason's carelessness hurt his children like his parents have hurt him?

"Mom?" Danny asks and that seems to snap Jasmine out of her spirl.

"Hotel!" She gasps, hands shaking as she quickly starts tapping on her phone. Jason catches a glimpse of her screen and realizes she is making a to-do list. "I have to book a hotel room. Call the insurance company, go and try to salvage whatever we can....what else?"

"You can stay here, Fenton," Damian surprisingly offers. "Until your home is rebuilt"

"We couldn't possibly-"

"Hotels are expensive, and you must focus on other more important needs. Father certainly has the space."

Jason jerks into action. "This will also give me a chance to connect with the kids!"

Jasmine bites her lip, turning to her children. Jason could appreciate that she was willing to include them in big decisions. The three nodded, so she eventually sighs.

"Alright. But only until I can get our housing settled. And I'll pay rent"

Jason would argue but he recognized the look in her eye. She would not be sway from making payments. So he agrees, tapping his fingers on the table in a specific rhythm to make sure his family agrees too.

He knows it pains Bruce- the old man already thinks of the triplets as his grandchildren and the idea of charging them to live with him will kill him.

Jason notices the way Dan's eyes zero in on his tapping and the glance around the family members. He fights a proud grin when realization bleeds into his boy's eyes. He's got a smart one, likely aware of that the tapping is a form of Morse code.

Tim did say- after pulling up all files of the four- that his children had developed insane intelligence. Maybe he should get them tested for certification geniuses.

"Hey Mr. Jason," Dani suddenly speaks up.

"Yes Darling?"

"I suggest you remove your eyes from my mom before I remove them from your face." The little girl even punches her palm in a poor intimidation attempt. His heart melts.

Then his face turns a dark red hue at Jasmine's raised brow. Unwillingly flashes of thier last time being face-to face rise in his mind. He coughs awkwardly as his sons face become as protective as their sister, Dan cracking his knuckles and Danny reaching for a knife.

"Oh yeah" Tim deadpans watching the kids reaction "No need for DNA test. Those are definitely Jason's kids"

He agrees, he just hopes he can show his children he plans on sticking around and being the father they deserve.

No one notices Cass and Steph slip away to deal with Posion Ivy. Jason kinda wants to send her a thank you gift for making it possible to have his family move into the manor.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Congratulations! Its Triplets!#the Dannies are protective of Jazz #Jason is more focus on being a dad but he does have a interest in Jazz #Damian is plotting on being the best uncle #The Waynes vs the Custody battle

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ghostboneswrites2 · 7 months

Text

Arrowhead Jr ||One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Summary: Daryl has baby fever

This was a request on my old blog: "ever since i saw daryl holding baby judith ive dreamt about him having absolute baby fever w reader and after babysitting him pestering reader about one?"

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Profanity, birth, babies, mostly fluffy

"Check this out." Daryl said excitedly, holding up a camo onesie he found. You were on a small run with a few others in search of some new clothes for little Judith, since she had outgrown most of the ones she had.

"This is for newborns." You told him, taking the tiny outfit out of his hands.

"I know.." He shrugged, taking it back and setting it down.

"Oh, god. Don't start." You begged. "Not again."

You had been with him since the prison, after Woodbury fell. You were one of the many refugees Rick had taken in after the town fell apart, and the archer took a liking to you from the beginning. You guessed it was partially due to your friendship with his morally-gray brother before his unfortunate passing, but it was mostly just because you were you. He loved you for it. However, recently, with the safety of Alexandria's walls, he somehow caught one of the scariest diseases; Baby Fever. Especially after the two of you spent a day watching her so Rick could work and Carl could go do normal teenager things for a change.

"Not startin' nothin." He mumbled.

"No, but you're doing that thing again!" You argued.

"What?" He shrugged.

"That! The sad face and the--"

"That place is perfect." He explained. "The--"

"I know, I know. The big walls and the pretty houses and the people and the--"

"I see you with Judith. I see how you look at her, how you rub her nose to get her to fall asleep and all them lil songs ya sing when she cries."

"So what are you saying?"

"Just that we could." He admitted.

"Just 'cause we could doesn't mean we should." You sighed

"I know that, it's just... I wanna."

"Well that's easy to say when you don't have to carry and birth a child to get one."

"Forget it." He huffed.

The rest of the trip was in silence, and not the comfortable kind you so often shared. You were both frustrated. Him, because ever since he held Judith for the first time, when he fed her that first meal she ever had and felt the rush of nurturing a crying, sweet little baby, a hole formed inside him and it grew bigger every day. He never could have seen himself as a family man before that moment, but ever since, it was a primal urge he couldn't resist. To love a woman, to father a child, to protect and provide for his own family. He had already achieved finding a woman worth his affections, which was you, of course, but he still didn't have his own family and it ate him up.

Your frustrations were sourced elsewhere, though. For one, giving birth sounded absolutely terrifying, especially in a world lacking in hospitals, epidurals, prenatal and postpartum care. You could handle a fair amount of pain, but birth was an entirely different playing field. Not to mention the risks. You had heard what happened to Judith's mom. How could you risk that? How could he expect you to? And that was just the tip of the iceberg. What kind of world would this be for a child? What kind of life would it have? Alexandria was always too good to be true, and sooner or later something would happen, and you'd all be running for your lives again. It was only a matter of time, to you. To be pregnant would mean no more runs, no more fighting, none of the things that made you useful. You'd just be a big burden with swollen ankles.

You didn't speak when you all arrived back home, or during dinner, or after. It wasn't until you went to take a shower, until you had already stripped down and stepped into the steamy stream of water. He had silently snuck into the bathroom, undressed, and surprised you by pulling the curtain aside and joined you. You had your back turned to him, allowing the water to rush over you and wash away your racing thoughts. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands until he was satisfied, then he began to wash you. You loved when he did that, it was one of your favorite affections he'd show. He always started by massaging your neck and shoulders, then your back, then your arms, and he'd turn you around and work on the front. With little explanation needed, that was his favorite part.

"Can we at least think about it?" He finally asked, eyes and hands stationed on your bare skin as you watched his face.

"We can think about it all we want but it doesn't change anything."

"But this place is safe. And there's a doctor here. And-- Hell, this house alone is more than either of us could've given a kid before the world turned to shit." He argued. You sighed.

"I just can't shake the feeling that none of this is permanent." You confessed. He stopped washing you for a moment, considering your concerns.

"What else?" He asked.

"What else what?"

"The other reasons. What else?"

"This place could fall."

"Don't mean it will."

"The doctor could die."

"I'll make sure he don't."

"There could be complications."

"That's what the doctor's for."

"I can't help on runs or fight or--"

"Got plenty of people that can do that."

You took a breath. Was he gonna have a rebuttal to each argument you made?

"Well," you said, "pregnancy makes us crazy."

"You're already crazy." He smirked. You rolled your eyes.

"What about medicine? Epidural? You need and anesthesiologist for that and we don't have that which means I'll feel everything and it's gonna hurt!" You rambled. His smirk grew into an amused grin. "What?" You scoffed.

"You're scared." He said.

"So what if I am? I should be. You should be. I could die. The baby could die. It could die down the line when we can't protect it--"

"Now you just insult me. I'd never let a damn thing happen to you or that kid." He snapped. You gritted your teeth together.

"You can't control everything. What about childbirth? Women died during birth when there were teams of doctors and surgeons. What about now?"

"You wont." He shook his head.

"Why would you want a baby with me anyways?" You groaned. "I don't even like kids!"

"Now that's just lyin' to yourself, darlin'."

"Is not!"

"Might've been able to convince me if you never let me see you with Lil Ass Kicker, but you're a natural."

"Jesus. Are you gonna give our baby weird nicknames too?" You asked as the two of you switched sides in the shower so you could was him too.

"Our baby?" He repeated. You eyes widened.

"Hypothetically." You corrected. "Our maybe, hypothetical, improbable baby."

"Nah, I was thinkin' Arrowhead Jr for ours."

You couldn't help it, you laughed.

"You're insane." You shook your head, massaging his shoulder with the suds.

"Look," he sighed. "I'm not gettin' any younger and I want a family. I already got the girl, now I need the girl to have my babies."

"Babies?!" You gawked. "How many do you expect me to have? I'm not a damn fetus factory I can't just spread my legs and pop them out on a fucking conveyor belt."

"I was thinkin' two."

"Two." You repeated, hoping that hearing the word from someone else would wake him up, maybe make him understand how ludicrous he sounded.

"Mhm."

Guess not.

"Two!" You said again. "Two babies that you want me to grow and birth."

"Yep."

"Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"Yeah." He said, turning around to face you. "I'm askin' you to be the mother of my kids and spend the rest of your life with me."

"Um, the rest of your life. Women live longer than men, statistically speaking."

"Then think about it. Make the rest of my life mean somethin'."

"Ugh." You growled. You really weren't going to win this one, no matter how hard you fought. "If you wanted kids so bad why didn't you find someone who had the same goal?"

"Don't want no one else. Just you."

"And a kid."

"Two kids."

"Let's start with one." You relented.

He grabbed your face as soon as you spoke the words and kissed you excitedly.

"Better start workin' on it then." He said, lifting you off the ground and pressing your back to the wall. Things only got steamier from there, and not because of the hot shower.

----

"Shit!" You whispered, staring down at the third test you'd taken. "Shit shit shit shit!"

To say it was panic would be an understatement. It was sheer terror. You guessed you knew this was coming but you weren't ready for it yet. The only solace you found was the fact that Daryl would be home soon, and you'd get to see his face light up when you handed him not one, not two, but three positive pregnancy tests.

He came home shortly after you wiped your tears and pulled yourself together. You were in the kitchen making him a pot of coffee, one that you'd usually share. Yet another thing you wouldn't be able to do for the next nine months.

You heard the door open, you heard him kick his boots off and set them by the door, and you heard him greet you as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey." He said casually as you turned to hand him a steamy mug of black coffee, just how he liked it.

"Hey." You replied, sitting down at the table across from where he took his usual seat. He gave you a weird look when he sat down. He could read you like an open book, and there was very obviously something going on with you that day.

"No coffee?" He asked, taking a sip of his own. You shook your head. "You okay?" You shrugged. "Talk to me." He said.

You decided to let him see for himself as you failed to form the words. You were terrified for a lot of reasons, but most of all your pride wouldn't let you say the words, because as much as you hated to admit it, you were also happy. You were happy to make him happy, and you were excited to have someone else to love.

You reached in your pocket and set the first test on the table. He stopped blowing on his coffee and stared at it for a moment before looking back to you. Then, you set the second one down. He pushed his eyebrows together, either out of confusion or shock, you weren't sure. Then you slapped the third test down beside the first two. He set his coffee down and stood, leaning over them to examine them. You realized he probably didn't know what a single line versus a double line meant, so you gave him a second to read the tests before he reacted.

The second it hit him it showed. His head snapped up at you, eyes wide.

"F'real?" He asked quietly. You nodded once and he rushed over to your side, gripping your cheeks between his hands and kissing you over and over and over. You couldn't help but chuckle as you tried to push him back.

"Oxygen, Daryl!" You giggled. "The baby needs to breathe!"

"C'mon. We gotta go tell Carol. And Rick. And Glenn. And Maggie." He rambled on and on, adding names as they popped in his head while he pulled you to your feet and ushered you to the door.

"Daryl!" You protested. "Wait I need shoes!"

---

You could barely hear Carol as she coached you through pushing with each contraction. The pain was insane and Daryl's hand was probably broken after you had been squeezing it so hard. Denise, the new doctor after Rick may or may not have killed the last one, was also talking you through, sending encouraging words as the baby's head made an entrance.

"Okay. Breathe. Breathe. One more big push." Carol cooed to your right as Daryl encouraged you from the left.

"C'mon, (Y/N), you're kickin' ass." He said. Admittedly he spent most of the time it took you to get to this point silent, shock written all over his face. He had no idea how to help you through this, he realized, but he fed off Carol's energy and began to give small words of encouragement when he heard Denise say she could see the baby's head.

When the next contraction hit, you screamed in agony, pushing with all your might, just like Carol told you.

"It's just like doing a sit up."

You could feel when the baby was out, but you were so exhausted your head just fell back on the pillow as you caught your breath. It wasn't until you heard the baby cry that you looked down at Denise to see her wiping the baby clean and wrapping it in a blanket. She walked over and set the baby down on your chest. "Skin to skin contact is important." She told you, before looking over to Daryl. "For you too, if you want to take your shirt off."

Daryl was too stunned, just watching in awe as you stared down at your crying newborn baby with admiration. It took him a minute, and a little nudge from Carol who had walked over to his side, before he snapped out of it and leaned in close to you. He got a good look at the baby before he asked, "Boy or girl?"

"Boy." Denise smiled. She was ecstatic, having successfully aided in the birth of your child.

"We have a son." Daryl laughed, although it was more of a happy cry. He wiped a tear from his eye as he stood up and removed his shirt, holding his arms out in hopes you'd let him hold his boy.

"Yeah, we do." You grinned, giving your baby a kiss on the head before you passed him over to his father. Daryl was breathless as he scooped the infant into his arms, bouncing him and whispering sweet nothings.

"Hey, little Arrowhead." He laughed. He had called him that for the entire pregnancy.

"I was thinking about naming him (name of your choice). What do you think?" You asked.

He nodded and kissed little (baby name).

"Hey, (baby name). I'm your daddy."

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl x female reader

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writeriguess · 1 month

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this is a prompt I’ve had on my mind for a long time now and I wonder how people would write it

it’s wear Y/N is a mermaid who was captured by Reginald and being held captive in a secret pond in the mansion. where Y/N is from the Hargreeves are considered Gods/Deities and Allison is the first to find her and Y/N calls Allison "princess" upon meeting her. The Hargreeves get Y/N out of the pond where they learn mermaids can grow legs on dry land and Y/N ends up falling in love with Five and they have a baby in the future

You open your eyes to darkness, as you always do. The water is cool against your skin, the liquid murkiness around you a familiar shroud. The pond you're trapped in isn't large, but it's deep, its cavernous walls rough and unyielding, holding you in their grasp. You've tried to escape countless times, swimming in circles, clawing at the edges, but there is no way out. The pond’s boundaries are imbued with an energy that saps your strength whenever you draw near, a barrier that keeps you tethered here, in this mansion.

A prison, not of stone or metal, but of water.

Your mind wanders back to the day you were taken, the day your world changed forever. You remember the rough hands, the nets that tangled in your tail, the cold, calculating eyes of the man who brought you here. He called himself Reginald Hargreeves, a name whispered in fear by your people. To the merfolk, he was a figure of legend, a creature from the land who could bind the sea, a man who sought the unknown and bent it to his will. And now, you are his captive, a living artifact locked away beneath his grand mansion.

Time passes differently here. You can't tell how long you've been in the pond—days, months, years? They blur together in the unchanging darkness. You have only your memories for company, and the faint hope that one day, somehow, you’ll be free.

And then, one day, something changes.

You’re resting on the smooth, sandy bottom of the pond when you hear it—a sound that isn’t the usual creak of the mansion settling or the distant hum of life above. No, this is different. It’s a voice, soft and lilting, filtering down through the water. Curious, you push off the bottom and swim upward, peeking out from beneath the water’s surface.

Through the ripples, you see her—a woman standing by the edge of the pond. She’s beautiful, with warm brown skin and a mane of dark curls that frame her face. Her eyes are wide with wonder as she gazes down into the water, and you can sense the power radiating from her, a power unlike any you’ve felt before. She must be one of them, you think. One of the beings your people revere as gods.

You float just below the surface, watching her. She’s talking to herself, or maybe to you, though she doesn’t know you’re listening. Her voice is gentle, full of compassion, and you feel an inexplicable pull toward her. You’ve never seen one of the Hargreeves up close before, never imagined them as anything other than the legends whispered among your people. Yet here she is, not a distant deity but a living, breathing person.

You can’t help yourself. You break the surface, the water parting around you as you rise, your eyes locking with hers. Her gasp of surprise is the first real sound you’ve heard in ages, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Princess,” you murmur, your voice hoarse from disuse but still carrying the reverence you feel. She stares at you, her mouth open in shock, and you realize she wasn’t expecting to find someone like you here. You aren’t sure what she was expecting, but it clearly wasn’t a mermaid.

“I… I’m Allison,” she says, her voice trembling slightly, though she quickly composes herself. “Who are you?”

“Y/N,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. “You are one of the gods.”

Allison frowns, a line appearing between her brows. “No, I’m… I’m not a god. I’m just… part of the Umbrella Academy.”

But to you, that means little. In your world, the Hargreeves family is more than just human—they’re divine, beings of unimaginable power and grace. You’ve seen glimpses of them through the water, their lives full of turmoil and triumph, but never have you imagined that one of them would find you, speak to you.

“Please, Princess,” you say again, the title slipping from your lips with ease. “Help me.”

Allison’s frown deepens as she kneels by the water’s edge, reaching out as if to touch you, but she hesitates, her hand hovering just above the surface. “How long have you been here?” she asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you admit, glancing away. “A long time. Since your father… brought me here.”

She looks horrified, and you can see the wheels turning in her mind, the realization of what’s been done to you settling in. “He did this to you?”

You nod, a sadness settling over you. “He captured me. I am bound to this pond, unable to leave.”

Allison pulls back, standing up abruptly, her face a mask of determination. “I’m getting you out of here,” she declares, turning on her heel and striding away.

For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel a flicker of hope.

Allison returns quickly, and she’s not alone. With her are her siblings—each of them as extraordinary as she is, each one a legend in their own right. They gather around the pond, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, concern, and, in one case, amusement.

“What have we here?” a man with tousled hair and a mischievous grin drawls, leaning forward to get a better look at you. He smells faintly of alcohol, and there’s a strange, otherworldly air about him.

“Klaus,” Allison admonishes, but there’s no real bite to her tone. She turns back to you, her eyes softening. “This is Y/N. We need to help her.”

Another man steps forward, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if he’s already considering a hundred different possibilities. His hair is dark, and there’s a weariness to him that belies his youth. He doesn’t speak immediately, but you can feel the weight of his stare, the way he assesses you.

You know, instinctively, that this is Five, the one who is both feared and revered among your people. The one who walks through time as easily as others walk through the sea. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a spark of something that passes between you—something that makes your heart beat faster, though you don’t quite understand why.

“What are we dealing with here?” he finally asks, his voice as sharp as his gaze.

“She’s a mermaid,” Allison explains, her hand gesturing to the pond. “Father… he trapped her here.”

There’s a murmur of shock among them, but Five’s expression doesn’t change. “And you want us to free her.”

“Yes,” Allison says firmly. “She’s been here for who knows how long. She deserves to be free.”

Five considers this for a moment before nodding. “Alright. But it won’t be easy. Father would have placed some serious protections around this place.”

“I can handle it,” another sibling—a tall, muscular man with a commanding presence—says confidently. He steps forward, cracking his knuckles. You recognize him as Luther, the one your people speak of as a warrior.

But Allison stops him with a hand on his arm. “We need to be careful. We don’t know what will happen if we just… break the barrier.”

Five’s eyes narrow in concentration, and he raises a hand, his fingers tracing the air as if he’s feeling for something invisible. “There’s a spell,” he mutters. “A strong one. But I think… I think I can disrupt it.”

The others watch as he focuses, his brow furrowing in concentration. You feel a tingling in the water around you, a shift in the energy that’s kept you trapped for so long. For a moment, nothing happens, and then, with a sudden jolt, the barrier shatters, sending ripples through the pond.

You gasp, the sensation of freedom flooding through you. Tentatively, you swim to the edge, pulling yourself up onto the stone ledge. As soon as your body leaves the water, something strange happens. Your tail, once sleek and powerful, begins to change, splitting into two, forming legs. You cry out in surprise, the sensation overwhelming, but Allison is there, catching you as you tumble forward.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs soothingly, helping you steady yourself. “You’re alright.”

You look down at your new legs, still damp and shimmering faintly with scales that fade as you dry. The transformation is complete, and you’re left feeling unsteady, vulnerable. But Allison’s presence is comforting, and when she smiles at you, you can’t help but smile back.

“Can you walk?” she asks gently.

“I… I think so,” you stammer, taking an experimental step. It’s strange, this new way of moving, but you find your balance quickly enough. The others watch you with a mixture of awe and curiosity, but it’s Five’s gaze you feel the most keenly. He’s still watching you, his expression unreadable.

“Welcome to dry land,” Klaus says with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “And what an entrance!”

You manage a small laugh, feeling more at ease despite the situation. But there’s a question burning in your mind, one you can’t keep to yourself any longer.

“What will happen to me now?”

Allison exchanges a glance with her siblings before answering. “You’re free now, Y/N. You can do whatever you want. We’ll help you adjust, if you want to stay here… or we can help you return to the sea.”

The thought of returning to the sea is tempting—after all, it’s your home, the place where you belong. But there’s something about this place, about these people, that makes you hesitate. And then there’s Five. The way he looks at you, the way he seems to understand you without words… it makes you want to stay, at least for a little while longer.

“I’d like to stay,” you say softly, your eyes meeting his. “If that’s alright.”

Five gives a curt nod, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then stay.”

In the days that follow, the Hargreeves help you adjust to your new life on land. They show you how to walk, how to dress, how to navigate the strange world of humans. It’s a learning curve, but you’re quick to adapt, and they’re patient with you, especially Allison and Five. Allison becomes a close friend, always there to guide you, while Five… well, Five is something else entirely.

You find yourself drawn to him in a way you’ve never felt before. There’s something about him that calls to you, something deep and unspoken. He’s different from the others, more guarded, more intense, but you sense a kindred spirit in him, someone who understands what it’s like to be out of place, to be lost in a world that isn’t quite yours.

He’s often busy, caught up in his own work and responsibilities, but when he’s around, you gravitate toward him, seeking out his company. At first, your interactions are brief, moments stolen in passing, but they gradually become longer, more frequent. You find yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life before, about the sea, about your people. And in return, he shares his own stories—of time travel, of loss, of battles fought and won.

The more you learn about him, the more your feelings for him grow. It’s not just admiration anymore; it’s something deeper, something you can’t quite name. You find yourself looking forward to seeing him, to hearing his voice, to feeling his presence beside you.

And he seems to feel the same way.

One evening, as the sun sets and the mansion is bathed in a warm, golden light, you find yourself alone with him in the garden. The others have retired for the night, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence. You’re sitting side by side on a stone bench, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant sound of water from a nearby fountain.

“I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” Five says suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice is low, almost hesitant, as if he’s unsure of the words.

You turn to look at him, surprised. “Like me?”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes meeting yours. “Someone who… who understands what it’s like to be out of place. To be searching for something you can’t quite define.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I feel the same way,” you admit quietly. “I’ve been searching for so long… and I think I’ve found it now.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through you. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like the most important thing in the world.

“You’ve found it,” he echoes softly, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken emotion. “And so have I.”

The space between you seems to shrink, and before you know it, you’re leaning toward each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. His lips find yours in a gentle, tentative kiss, and it’s like everything falls into place. The world around you fades, leaving only the two of you, connected in a way that feels as natural as breathing.

When you finally pull away, you see a rare, genuine smile on his face, one that makes your heart soar. You smile back, feeling lighter than you have in years, as if a weight you didn’t even know you were carrying has been lifted.

In that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The days turn into weeks, and then months, and your life with the Hargreeves becomes the new normal. You’re part of their family now, and they accept you as one of their own. You’re no longer a captive, no longer a prisoner of Reginald’s schemes. You’re free, and you’re loved, and that’s more than you ever could have hoped for.

Five becomes your anchor in this new world, your constant companion, your partner. The bond between you grows stronger with each passing day, and before long, it’s impossible to imagine your life without him. He’s everything you never knew you needed, and you’re everything he never thought he’d find.

It’s not long before your relationship deepens in ways you never expected. The love between you blossoms, and one day, not too long after, you find out that you’re expecting a child. The news comes as a shock, but it’s a joyous one, and Five is there with you every step of the way.

The family is ecstatic at the news, and they rally around you, supporting you in every way they can. It’s a time of great change, but it’s also one of the happiest times of your life. You’re no longer alone; you have a family, a partner, and soon, you’ll have a child of your own.

As you sit in the garden one evening, the same garden where you and Five shared your first kiss, you place a hand on your growing belly and smile. Five is beside you, his hand covering yours, and you feel a sense of peace that you’ve never known before.

“I never thought I’d have this,” you say softly, your voice full of wonder.

“Neither did I,” Five replies, his voice equally soft. “But I’m glad we do.”

You lean against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together.

And that, more than anything, is enough.

#five hargreeves x reader

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satorusluver · 11 months

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Hi, you said you were doing a 500 followers thing, correct? If so, could I get number 42, breeding kink with either Toji or Choso? Just if you have a space open of course. I'd very much appreciate it, thank you.

Choso + breeding kink

Tags/warnings: smut (minors DNI), fem reader, she/her pronouns, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, slightly subby Choso (?) Lots of "please" lol

Word count: 700 ish

A/N: I go feral for breeding kink Choso. Consider this a sequel to my other lil Choso drabble. I hope you enjoy! <3

Choso, who loves family above anything else and dreams of someday becoming a father to a chubby lil baby who's the perfect combination of you and him. This man drops to his knees and presses a gentle kiss to your lower belly, to your still empty womb, when you tell him you think you're finally ready to start trying for a baby. He already worships your body to begin with, but now, to know that this woman he adores and reveres is offering to carry his child for him? The thought has blood rushing to his cock faster than it ever has before.

He wants to take you then and there, but more than that he wants to do it right and give you two the best chance of conceiving as soon as possible. So you track your cycle and Choso saves up his sperm for a few days before your window of fertility. After all, blue balling himself a little is worth it if it means increasing his chances of all that cum actually doing what it's meant to do, putting a mini Choso in your belly.

He doesn't last a whole ten minutes before cumming the first time you try to conceive because he's so turned on at the idea of finally getting to breed his sweet girl. He's already a fucked out, babbling mess who's begging for you to take every last drop of the thick load he's so lovingly saved up just for your pussy the moment he slides his length into you. He just can't believe this is real and his beloved is letting him put a baby in her. He's on top of you, one of his large hands resting almost possessively roughly where your womb is located, and his pretty face is all contorted in pleasure at the feeling of your tight, wet heat sucking him in each time he thrusts back into you like it's just as eager for his load as he is to give it to you.

You feel his full, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every stroke, and they begin to tighten as he gets closer to his release. The sounds Choso makes when he gets close to cumming are fucking beautiful, high-pitched moans, desperate whimpers and pussydrunk whines of "take it, take it, please take it. Oh god, please, baby, take my cum. G-gonna make you a mommy, gonna give you a baby, I promise."

He doesn't even really know what he's saying, too lost in the feeling of your warmth around him to think properly. He cums harder than he ever has at the thought of all his hot, sticky seed flooding your fertile womb, hoarsely moaning a mantra of "please please please" as he presses the swollen tip of his dick up against your cervix and spurts rope after thick rope of semen.

And he doesn't stop there. He keeps going, fucking his cum back into you for good measure, his fat cock still so hard and eager to give you more. The cum he's already deposited in you just makes you even wetter, and Choso watches with pride at the sight of the frothy white mess that soon covers his dick from how hard he pounded his first load into you.

"Your little pussy looks so pretty like this, my love. S-so full of my cum, yeah? 'm gonna fill you even more."

And he does, filling you two or three more times until his seed is all but gushing out of your poor, overused cunt. You honestly lose count after cumming around his cock so many times yourself. After all, he's heard that a woman's orgasm can help open up the cervix and increase the chances of conception. Whether or not that's true, Choso makes sure to rub little circles into your puffy, sensitive clit with his thumb as he fucks you until you're so overstimulated you're begging him to stop.

"My poor darling," Choso coos down at the panting mess he's made of you after hours of his ardent lovemaking.

"Does my little mommy-to-be need a break?" he chuckles when you nod weakly in response, already half-asleep sleep beneath him. Choso leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear as you drift off to sleep.

"Rest up, my love, because I have more in store for you where that came from."

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years

Text

Record of Justice: Wonder Woman! Reader HCs

I am so gay for Diana.

- Brunhilde doesn't HESITAITE to choose you as one of her champions, seeing as you're both demi-gods who come from a warrior race of women, I can see you and her honestly having a lot in common together.

- But yeah, no, Diana's whole thing is that she wants to save the world of man so even of Brunhilde didn't choose her, you would have still chosen to fight because it was your duty.

- So Wonder Woman has multiple origins: Her original one being that she was born from clay by her mother but there are versions she has a dad which kinda switches between Hades and Zeus. Zeus will be your father in this case because I genuinely like the idea of him blowing his fucking gasket when he sees you enter in the side of humanity.

- "YOU KNOW HER, YOU LOVE HER: LADIES AND GENTLEGODS, GIVE IT UP FOR THE AMAZONIAN PRINCESS AND SAVIOR OF MAN: (Y/N)!!!"

- Ares and Wonder Woman have so much beef in the comics so you and him definetly don't see eye to eye now. In fact, Ares would fight you himself if he could but like, you're also kinda scary when you're mad.

- Zeus and Poseidon are literally about to blow a fucking gasket when they see you. Zeus is more subtle as usual as he's all: "Oh, well she's always been the black sheep of the family!" but in reality, he feels deeply betrayed. Poseidon isn't surprised honestly, he genuinely believes you should have grown up with the Olympians instead of on Themyscira because then maybe you'd learn to look down on those pathetic humans instead of protecting them.

- Tbh, Poseidon does have a bit of a soft spot for you as his niece because you're the only one whose ever DARED to back talk him despite knowing his power. He wishes your mother, Hippolyta, wasn't such a stubborn woman. I can totally see moments when you're absolutely destroying Gods and Poseidon just smiling proudly at you but then quickly scowling so no one can see him.

- However the Greek Gods who explicitly still care for you are definetly Hermes, Hercules, and Aphrodite.

- Aphrodite, being your big sister, absolutely adores you even if you two aren't on the same side. She smiles when she sees you and if she can, she will try to catch you in the hallways and pull you into a hug, meanwhile you're kinda suffocating in her bosom. She compliments you on what a strong and beautiful woman you've become, the only reason she isn't upset with you for "betraying" the family is because...well, you've always been like that. It's just nice to see you again♡

-As for Hercules, you both are Demi gods and while you acknowledge humanities faults, you welcomed him with open arms and appreciate his dedication. You two might not be bound by blood but the way you carry each other's ideals and respect and tease each other, its very clear you two have an unbreakable bond.

- Hermes adored you since you were born. Despite Themyscira's laws that men weren't allowed on the island, he was a God, and would happily come and see you to play with you. Taking on a big brother role in your life, he smiles softly as you glare at your father and he thinks you're just as cute as when you were a little toddler struggling to walk on the sandy beach coast of your island.

- As for the human side, they're all in literal wonder of you...which makes sense regarding your hero alias, but when they watched you at work: you impressed everyone while Brunhilde smiled at you and it pissed Zeus off even more when you both shook hands and sent him smug smirks on your faces.

Enemies/People Who Dislike You:

- Ares is a huge hater as I stated before, maybe you humiliated him in the past in front of Zeus, or maybe it was that one time you stole his helmet in a fight and became the New Goddess of War for a while but either way: you and him should never be in the same room together because not even the Gods can predict that disaster.

- Loki thought the rope thing was kinda hot but found out the hard way WHY it was called the Lasso of Truth. Even when he is shaped shifted, he will revert to his normal form if you ever catch him with it AND YOU ALWAYS FUCKING DO. He also can't even try and mislead you by telling you half truths because he just blurts out the truth right away. Everyone absolutely adores you for it, ngl since Loki doesn't even bother pulling tricks when you're around and when he sees you fight for humanity, he throws a huge tantrum...He still finds the rope thing hot tho...

- Zeus. He has conflicted feelings for you, he does love you but he wishes you wouldn't always go against his wishes...though he supposes thats what he gets for having your mother raise you instead of him. You show him respect but you clearly harbour bitter feelings for him betraying your trust and wanting to wipe out humanity and he understands that. It still doesn't give you the right to laugh about him with Brunhilde and he'll be sure to get you back for it.

Allies/Friends Who Trust You:

- Brunhilde is honestly a good friend of yours, I genuinely think she sees you the same way she sees Hercules but she relates to you a little more. (The Valkyries and Amazon's would have martinis on the beaches of Themyscira, fight me on that-)

- Shiva, honestly. He likes that you're strict but you can definetly be fun and silly in your own way. You honestly remind him of Rudra, who he totally tries to set you up with so because you two really have a lot in common!

- Obviously Hercules, Hermes, and Aphrodite but also: Poseidon, surprisingly...sometimes. Again, he does soften a bit when it comes to you and he wonders if you're simply stubborn and brave or stubborn and stupid. You are his favorite niece but also, the one that causes him to roll his eyes the most.

- Honestly, all of the Valkyries. When you heard about Brunhilde and her Völundr's, you knew that it was clever but also: that you couldn't just stand to let your fellow sisters in battle fall, the odds being against them. Also, the will all hug you and tackle you to the ground.

- Sasaki Kojiro is a human you take a liking too, he reminds you of a friend whose clad in all black...except he's more cheerful and happy and might have lost in life, but still: he never gives up. You admire those skills in a human and he gets all shy and flustered when you compliment him but I can totally see the both of you practicing sword fights and even moments where he beats you, which you're proud of him for doing, honestly.

- Adam. He genuinely just is the dad Zeus never was, even though you're not one of his own children, he'll fight like you are. Tbh, the only man that deserves to set foot in Themyscira and the other Amazon's would agree. Eve also gossiping with your Hippolyta in the crowd and complimenting her on raising such a wonderful daughter and they talk about mom things.

Admirers/Characters Who Have a Crush on You:

- Thor, just straight up. Since you're a fellow immortal, you two have somewhat known each other, you didn't really care much for the godly affairs so it wasn't often, but he's had the biggest crush on you. When he saw you fight so fearlessly in the crowd, those feelings came back 10 fold. Definetly wants to fight you because that's his way of flirting. Zeus and Odin 100% want to pair you two together to create an official alliance and while Thor wants you to choose him out of your own volition, he will suggest that it is a good idea.

- Jack the Ripper. HE HAS BISEXUAL PANIC BECAUSE HERCULES WAS ALREADY SOKIND TO HIM BUT YOU?? OH, YOU'RE TRULY DESERVING OF THE TITLE OF GODDESS, your color is so gorgeous; filled with such love and passion. After his battle, after he killed Hercules, he is ashamed to face you. But, amazingly, you do not look at him in disgust or shame. You kneel down and gently hold his face, you are in mourning, but you still kiss his head gently and tell him: "You fought well. Rest." and he just short circuits as you begin to carry him.

- BUDDHA, BABY. He loves how serious you are but also, that you can be pretty goofy honestly. Also loves how you stand up to Zeus constantly. Not to mention he certainly has a thing for strong women. But also, he finds your work inspiring, trying to guide humanity to a better life of enlightment. HIPPOLYTA ALSO TRYING TO SET YOU TWO UP BECAUSE SHE'S A COOL MOM AND SHE'S ALL: "You know, that Buddha has been staring at you~" and you have to be all: "MOTHER!" And he walks over to you and offers you a snack and you take it. Zeus hates him because he thinks Buddha would be a "bad influence" on you.

#Record of Ragnarok x reader #crossover #Recreational Crossovers #record of ragnarok #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #ror buddha x reader #ror buddha #ror thor x reader #ror thor #ror jack the ripper x reader #ror jack the ripper

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sunflowersandsapphires · 2 months

Text

Finding You

Small Creatures, Chapter 2

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Matt Murdock always assumed he’d never meet his soulmate. After all, who would want to end up stuck with a blind vigilante carrying enough baggage for a whole jet? Unfortunately for you both, his cursed love is closer than ever and determined to support him as his paradoxical life falls apart.

warnings: minor swearing, misunderstandings, awkward meetings

a/n: there isn’t a ton of Matt in this chapter, but there will be MUCH more of him from here on out. We are running straight for the hurt, comfort, angst, and fluff of this story, y’all. As always, please reply and reblog! And a huge shout out to @zomtart for helping me create this AU!

w/c: 4.5k

You couldn’t shake the feeling of him.

A tight coil of smoke, constantly twisted around your every limb. Your dreams were now hazy with clouds of ash, the bitter taste of charred organic material blanketing your tongue when you woke.

On the surface, he was dangerous, filled with a rage that burned more intensely than any flame in this realm. You understood that it was meant to scare you, to create distance. But, you were drawn to it like a newly hatched moth–seeking its warmth and light, not shying away from its destructive power one bit.

Whether your intense longing was due to your bond or simply a lack of self-preservation, you weren’t sure.

Walking home after the Devil snatched you from the jaws of death, it all suddenly made sense. One of those “you have to feel it to believe it” kind of things, meeting your soulmate. Your steps were unsteady and too light, like your weight was constantly fluctuating as you moved, or you were being carried along by an external force. You felt thoroughly inebriated, oxytocin and dopamine saturating every cell.

With each wobbly pace home, your chest pulsed with clipped waves of pain, like you’d been bruised. But even the dull ache couldn’t ruin the pleasant floaty feeling carrying you back to your place.

At points in your life, you’d heard musings. Of what it was like to be bonded with another. Though none of them had ever truly made sense until now.

You were torn, unsure of how to feel about it all. On one hand, knowing he existed was comforting. You weren’t crazy or damned or any other awful thing people sometimes said about marked souls. On the other, watching him creep away from you in terror was definitely a blow to your ego.

It was possible he’d had to go take care of something—there was never a dull night in the Kitchen—but given how your mark was radiating a concoction of doubt, shame, and another feeling you couldn’t quite place…it was probable he was truly not interested. You needed a clear answer, though. Whatever his decision was, you’d respect it, but you needed to be sure before giving up on him.

Therein lay the issue. How could you ask him for a clear answer when you didn’t even know his name? You had no idea where to begin looking for him, or if he could even be found.

And what would you say if you did find him? “Hi, you clearly want nothing to do with me but apparently we are destined to mean something to each other so here’s my card”?

What if he was in love with someone else? He could be married, have a family..oh god what if he was married–

A familiar voice called your name, snapping you out of the trance you’d apparently been in. Ripping your gaze away from where it had been listlessly staring at your coffee cup, you met your friend’s amused look with a sheepish laugh.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Imogen shook her head fondly, clearly not actually upset that you’d zoned out.

“Nothing more important than whatever’s on your mind. Spill,” She giggled, poking your arm with a manicured finger.

You groaned, pulling your exposed limb out of harm’s way. “Midge, it's nothing–”

“It's not!” Crossing her arms, the woman across from you gave her best attempt at a stern mom stare. “You've been out of it all day. We've been friends long enough for me to recognize when you're stuck in your head. So tell me, what's got you in such a funk?”

Sighing, you dropped your chin to your chest, overwhelmed with indecision. It's not that you expected Imogen to react badly, but how much could you tell her? I mean, he was a vigilante, a criminal. Would she truly be ok with that?

Taking a leap, you allowed her to clutch your hand, your nerves settling slightly under her encouraging gaze. “I may have met my soulmate last night?”

As if an earthquake had suddenly struck Manhattan, the two flimsy cups standing on the table quivered as the table vibrated beneath them. Your friend had erupted with joyful movement, kicking her feet and gripping your hand painfully tight as she shrieked gleefully.

“WHAT!? WHEN? HOW? Tell me EVERYTHING!” Eyes boring into yours with more enthusiasm than you'd ever held for something, Imogen beamed at you.

As much as you appreciated her zest for life, the other patrons in the small cafe were glaring daggers in your direction, apparently not willing to risk hearing loss for a stranger's happiness. Sending them an apologetic glance, you lay your free hand on Imogen's.

“Hun, I love you, but people are staring.” You chuckled, flicking your eyes to the annoyed regulars behind her.

“Alright, alright, I'll try to contain myself,“ Midge rolled her eyes. ”What's his name? Is he cute? Oh gosh, I shouldn't have assumed it was a he–”

Shaking your head, you patted her hand reassuringly. “'He' would presumably be correct. He sort of..helped me out last night.”

“Helped you out how?”

Deciding on an altered version of events, you left out the part about him donning a mask and saving you from certain death. Two birds, one stone in terms of things Midge would worry over.

“I was trying to snap a picture on the roof of Ink 48. He saw me struggling to get in position and..spotted me? I guess? When we touched...god, Midge. You weren't kidding.” Your voice was breathy, your heart pounding as you thought of his beautiful smirk, his warm hands.

“It's..indescribable.” She agreed, her smile softening as she studied your love struck expression. “What's his name?”

Averting your eyes, you felt a haze of lingering doubt settle over you. “See, that's why I've been out of it. We connected, forged a bond or whatever you want to call it, and he ran away. I..didn't get a good look at his face and I have no clue what his name was so I'm kind of at a loss.”

“Oh sweetie,” Midge pouted, dragging her chair closer to wrap an arm around you. “No leads? He wasn't wearing anything with a company emblem or an ID badge?”

“No, and honestly..I don't even know if he'd want me to track him down. I mean, he ran, Midge. Full on beelined outta there like I had the plague. He could be married? Or just not interested?” Your voice trailed off. You were at a loss, that much was clear.

“Or!” Imogen interjected, her voice optimistic as always. “He was surprised and he panicked. I think we both can relate to that.”

You raised a brow at her in disbelief, but Imogen was undeterred. “Babes, it's a big thing, finding your soulmate. Cut the poor guy some slack! He's probably nervous just like you are.”

“It's possible.” You relented. “But I still don't know if I'll ever see him again.”

“You will.” Your all-too-positive companion shrugged, withdrawing her hand from your hold. “You're way too capable and determined not to.”

“You're too sweet to me.” You scoffed, heat fluttering in your cheeks.

“I'm just being honest!” She giggled, tossing back the rest of her coffee. “C'mon.”

“Where are we going?” You laughed, draining your coffee so Midge could toss both cups in a nearby waste basket.

“You're going to show me exactly where you met him and we'll see if there are any cameras or other things we could use to track him down.”

Steps faltering, you blinked in shock before scurrying after your friend who was confidently traipsing out of the store.

Shifting the strained handle into the crook of your elbow, you angled your body so the weight of the large bag bumped against the flesh of your hip, rather than knocking into unsuspecting strangers. One solid kick from a passerby and the carefully stacked contents would topple–either into the street or onto you. Regardless, you’d have a mess on your hands and you’d be out a solid chunk of money. Take out wasn’t cheap these days, dammit.

You just hoped the hefty bill would be worth it.

It had been almost a week since your run-in with your soulmate and you were still mostly at a loss. Despite Imogen's confidence and your combined dedication, you were no closer to knowing his identity. Your failure to find anything definitive at the scene was partially because nothing had been left behind and almost entirely because Midge was still under the impression you were looking for a standard nine-to-fiver.

You weren't quite sure how to come clean, not when she'd spent so much of her free time over the past few days accompanying you to the same street, scouring the crowds for anyone who might look familiar to you. But, until you knew whether he wanted you in his life, you were hesitant to confess the one thing you did know about him.

After the third day of returning home empty-handed, you'd cut your friend loose. Telling her you were going to regroup before trying again. As lovely as Midge was, she was as clueless about the Devil's whereabouts as you were.

The internet, however, was chock full of fanatics and critics overly willing to share the opinions they had about him. In general, the city appreciated his efforts--the local message boards and blogs brimming with praise and gratitude. You couldn't help but feel a gleaming rush of pride with every compliment, appreciating the citizens for recognizing the man's work.

Of course, there were negative threads too. Calling Daredevil a threat and a coward. Screaming at him to give himself up, leave the crime-fighting to law enforcement. At first, you'd engaged with those users too. But, after one argument sparked so much rage you almost shattered your laptop screen in an effort to remove yourself from the fight, you began to ignore anything less than positive. Whether because of your bond or your genuine admiration for your soulmate, the disapproval created a primal urge to protect, to defend. Standing by wasn't an option, so you put blinders on to filter out the objections.

As a whole, however, the online forums were helpful. There were a few sites dedicated to tracking local vigilante news, allowing you to assemble a makeshift map of places the Devil frequented. You'd reached out to a few of the more active users to see if they could help you, but pretty quickly realized that the claim 'daredevil is my soulmate' was probably more common than you'd originally thought. So, for now, your feeble, hand drawn maps would have to do.

Unsurprisingly, Daredevil seemed to have a flexible schedule that mostly revolved around where he was needed. The idea of staging a crime, or intentionally putting yourself in harm's way did occur to you, but you weren't that desperate quite yet. And you doubted that would be well-received. Instead, you categorized locations by number of sightings and planned to work your way down the list.

Tonight, you were starting just before sunset for the roof of a building near the Clinton Community Garden. According to your limited research, the crimson-clad vigilante was often spotted between 47th and 50th street, around the intersections of 9th or 10th. A decent area to start with for sure, given that it was pretty central within Hell's Kitchen, and 10th street was a haven for petty crime.

Two failed attempts to buzz into apartment buildings later, someone finally answered your request over the intercom, unlatching the door for you. Dashing up the stairs two at a time, your stomach was in knots by the time you found a roof access door. Your every breath was measured, laden with doubt in the wake of so many possibilities. Pulse racing, you gulped in the humid evening air, bending at the waist to allow blood flow to your brain.

You'd been so nervous to confront him, you'd neglected your own needs. Dehydration and low blood sugar were only exacerbated by this obnoxious heat. Cringing at the realization, you paced to the edge of the roof, settling into a cross-legged position with your back against the squabby brick perimeter. With the back of your hand, you swiped at the beading sweat along your brow, doing your best to mop it up.

Now for the fun part. Waiting.

Patience was a virtue that didn't always come easily to you. Especially when your anxiety stepped up to the plate. Twiddling your thumbs, anticipating every possible thing that could go wrong only made time pass more slowly. And it wasn't as if there was a deadline you were inching towards.

Not a set one, at least. The food you'd brought wouldn't last forever, though you were hoping the thermal bag would keep it from spoiling too quickly. If it didn't, well, you'd feel pretty foolish for bruising your arm carrying the sizable thing around town.

Lifting the strap from where it was currently digging into your shoulder, you set it carefully on the ground, peeking inside to inspect the contents. Everything looked ok, thankfully. A bit banged up from the journey, but mostly unharmed and definitely just as tasty.

Relaxing into the prickly surface holding you upright, you scanned the skyline, admiring the wash of pinks and oranges slipping between skyscrapers. You hadn't wanted to tote your camera around in addition to all the food, but you were regretting that decision now. Somewhat remorsefully, you pulled a paperback book from an outside pocket on the tote. Imogen would be thrilled you were finally starting it.

The book was better than you'd expected. A historical fiction novel about the Nazi invasion in France–something you knew very little about. It managed to keep your attention for nearly 90 minutes, though you did take brief breaks to stretch and scan the horizon for a familiar figure.

As much as you wanted to stick it out, the food wouldn't last too much longer. Knee-deep in a mental quarrel with yourself about whether to give up for the night, your stomach dropped–yanked by an extreme force as if you were driving over a massive hill. It was intoxicating, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Scrambling to your feet, you teetered on wobbly legs, nearly faceplanting on the concrete. All sense of balance had been ripped from you, as if the flat roof had been replaced with a trampoline, bouncing with every step you took. Before you could regain your bearings, a shadowy figure appeared at the opposite end of the roof.

His chin was angled down, mirrored fists clenched on either side of his broad, menacing stance. In the sliver of remaining sunlight, you could make out his sharp jawline and pink lips–your heart fluttering as they parted.

“You shouldn’t be up here.” He strode toward you, graceful and precise. Far more coordinated than you felt at the moment.

“Please,” You murmured, focus lost in the glow of fading light lining his body, a flexible halo around him. “Please, I-I just want to talk.”

“Are you sure you have time?” Stopping his approach about 10 feet from you, his mouth twitched with a smirk. You were surprised to sense humor in his words. “Seems like you might be late for your dinner plans.”

Chuckling weakly in response, your face flooded with heat. Something about his presence made your brain melt into soup. His confidence and cocky attitude stole the explanation right off your tongue, leaving you to stand there uselessly until he nodded to the rectangular bag lying at your feet.

“Oh, sorry, um,“ Scurrying for the shining handle, you pulled it into your arms, extending it out to him. ”I brought this for you actually.”

In a remote corner of your stomach, a tiny curl of something warm unwound. Surprise, then a much stronger sensation, not unlike fondness or gratitude. A mix of both perhaps?

“For me?” As he whispered, you couldn't help but smile. Those sudden emotions, they were his, not your own. The hesitant acceptance continued into his rasping voice.

“If you will accept it, then yes. As a thank you. For saving me and, well, for everyone else you’ve saved.” You answered, taking a step in his direction.

Hands shooting up, blocking an incoming hit you hadn't thrown, his guard slid back into place. With each inch you moved forward, he withdrew, like there was an invisible barrier forcing the two of you apart.

“I don't do this for handouts.” He growled, shoulders squaring off. You'd spooked him somehow.

“I never said you did.” You shrugged, sending him a soft smile. Retreating towards your end of the roof, you drew the bag towards your chest. “I just wanted to thank you, and to ask you a few questions. I figured they would be easier to swallow if I had something for you in return.”

Tilting his head at you, Daredevil flexed his fingers, no doubt fighting the urge to lock them into fists. His tongue dipped between his lips, sliding over the lower as he pondered. “What sort of questions?”

A bubble of pride rolled up your throat at the idea you'd gotten this feral cat of a man to trust you, even marginally. “About the other night. Nothing about your identity or anything, and if they seem too invasive you don't have to answer them at all. I'll respect whatever boundaries you need to set, but I would have regretted never asking. Does that make sense?”

The stubby horns on his helmet arced in semi-circles as he nodded. “I think so.”

“I just...did you feel it?” Grimacing as the question slipped out, you tried to clarify. “I mean, that's a horrible way to ask that but, er, when you..caught me, I think something–”

“Yes.” He interrupted you, his voice barely audible.

“What?”

Another coarse nod. “Yes. I felt it.”

“Oh my god,” You'd expected this answer, but you were still dumbfounded. “I thought maybe I was just crazy.”

“You're not crazy.” He huffed, a glimpse of his teeth shining in the city light as he smirked.

“So, that means we're...” You trailed off, not wanting to scare him away with the word.

The Devil stilled, his jaw quivering as his teeth grit together. The fragile peace you’d somehow achieved began to crack.

“It's ok!” You hurriedly reassured him. “I don't, I'm not–”

Tripping over your words, you held up a hand. After a deep breath, you tried again. “It's up to you what we mean to each other. I didn't come here to nag you, or demand things from you.”

“You didn't?” The question was posed as a statement. He didn't believe you.

“Not at all. That wouldn't be fair. To you or..well, to the other people in your life. I just wanted to know if it was real and to show my appreciation for the other night.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you watched as his posture slumped slightly.

“You didn't,” He sighed, crossing his arms. Holy shit was he hiding saplings under there? “You didn't have to do that.”

Swallowing harshly as you collected your thoughts, you giggled nervously. “I know, but I wanted to. Can't be easy to eat while flipping around the city.”

Another puff of breath, a hint of laughter. “What exactly is my reward?”

Chewing at the flesh of your lip, you fumbled for the zipper. “Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I brought a few options. They're sort of all over the map.”

Laying out the thin cotton blanket you'd packed, you withdrew a myriad of plastic containers and lined them up, describing each as you went. “Gnocchi and bolognese from Il Tinello, very hearty and comforting. If you want something a bit different, an Alice sandwich from that shop 'Toasties'? And, if you don't eat animal products, seitan satay from Plant-Blossom.”

“You weren't kidding.” The Devil remarked, creeping towards the edge of the blanket. “You ventured all over the city for this. You didn't–”

“Please don't feel bad!” You rushed out, stomach sinking at the guilty little pout on his face. “I was looking for something to do. Besides, you deserve a decent meal for sticking around to hear me out.”

“As much as I appreciate it, it's more food than I can eat.” The man protested, crouching beside the edge of the blanket, not quite crossing the boundary yet.

“I'll have some of whatever you don't want. And, if we still can't finish it, well I'm sure there's someone around here who will take it.” You reasoned, settling atop your folded legs. Despite your nerves, you kept your voice steady and your stature unassuming, not wanting to activate the man’s “scary Devil mode” again.

“Thank you.” Kneeling on the concrete, the vigilante cocked his head at the lineup of options, fingers dancing over his thighs hesitantly. His gravelly voice diffused into a murmur, showering you like a spray of glass beads. Cool and solid, steady as rain.

You nibbled at the inside of your lip, smiling softly as the treacherous defender of the city flushed pink in the pale golden hue of the sun. Despite his harsh exterior and skeptical nature, you were swooning at the glimpse of the man behind the mask. He was passionate and humble, truthfully taken aback by your gratitude. “I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be thanking you. So, are you hungry?”

Lips splitting with a beautifully subtle grin, the Devil nodded. “Always.”

Satisfaction tugged at your heart, making you crinkle your nose as you held back a proud smile. “Help yourself!”

You hadn't been lying to him, the array of options was for his benefit; it wasn't much of a repayment if he didn't enjoy the food. As his hand reached for the first take out container, you realized there was something in it for you as well. In addition to him answering your brief question, and spending more than a moment nearby, you'd end up learning about him.

Something as simple as choice of meal wasn't overly revealing, but it confirmed some suspicions you had about your other half. He wasn't adventurous for the hell of it, his decisions–though seemingly rash–were purposeful and thought out. You understood the enticing pull, the desire to stick to your routine or things you already knew.

Bruised fingers popped the seal on the gnocchi, cradling the warm plastic tub with a fond glance in your direction. “Did you happen to bring silverware?”

Heat rushed to your face, embarrassment swatting at you as you scrambled for the utensils in your bag. “Oh gosh, yes, I am so sorry–”

“Don't apologize.” A comforting weight settled over the back of your hand, the rough pad of a thumb brushing over your knuckles. Tearing your eyes away from the packets in your grip, your mouth hung open in surprise as Daredevil tenderly swiped his finger over your skin. You froze in place, scared that the smallest twitch would ruin the moment.

Face slackening with realization, the man dropped your hand, sliding a set of plastic silverware out of your loose grip. “This will work. Thank you.”

Shoulders hunching, he pointed his body away from you, still kneeling rather than fully relaxing into a seated position. Busying yourself with your own plate of food, you tried to shove down the disappointment that gnawed at you, your fragile consciousness unable to stave off the feeling of rejection as he turned to face the city.

“Has it been busy tonight? The crime fighting, I mean?” You posed the question, hoping to bridge the literal and metaphorical gap once again widening between the pair of you.

The man opposite you hummed thoughtfully, swallowing before he spoke. “Not too bad.”

“That's good. Hopefully you'll be able to get some rest, then. If you need rest, that is. I mean, if you don't have a day job that would make it easier but how could you afford to live in this city? I guess you could probably bounce around and evade capture, but that sounds exhausting. How do you–” Cutting yourself off, you clamped a hand over your mouth. “Shit, I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to ask about that, I'm just nervous which tends to make me ramble.“

Scratching at the back of his neck, Daredevil curled further in on himself. “I, uh, I guess I can't blame you for being nervous.”

“Oh, it's not your fault.” You promised, shaking your head violently. “I'm sort of like this with everyone. Lack of experience, I guess.”

Studying you for a moment, his lips briefly flickering with a smile. “I understand that. People are complicated.”

“Understatement of the century.” You huffed, a familiar blossom of warmth pooling in your chest when he echoed the chuckle.

Sitting in cozy silence, you ate quickly, stealing peeks at the muscular man every so often to gauge his discomfort. As much as you wanted to believe you were making progress, the rational side of your brain recognized the finite nature of this exchange. It was likely that he didn't intend to do this again. This was a favor extended to you for your appreciation.

As darkness descended on the skyline, cloaking the stark angles in shadows, a tightly wound knot of sorrow clogging your throat as you tried to finish your sandwich. Choking down the last bite, you lifted the final plate.

“Don't suppose you'd want any of this for the road?” Ignoring the tremble in your words, you began folding the blanket, avoiding his gaze.

“Sure,” He gently accepted, prying the container from your grasp and taking extra care not to make contact with your skin. “Thank you, again.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You croaked around the lump in your throat, coughing to clear it. “Just, be safe out there.”

Giving you a sad smile, the masked man nodded firmly. “I’ll try my best.”

Swaying awkwardly as you stood, shouldering your bag on the way up, your mind raced through its entire vocabulary in an attempt to find the words for a proper goodbye. You’d interacted with this man for less than an hour, yet he meant the world to you–but telling him that would be weird, wouldn’t it? You really needed a manual for these things. A roadmap to help you tread lightly, avoid landmines. Unfortunately, you were pretty sure the whole “my soulmate is a vigilante” thing wasn’t common enough to warrant an expert.

“I, um, I’m going to head home before it’s super late. But, here–” Rushing through the excuse as quickly as you could, you held out a tiny rectangle of cardstock, holding your breath while he slipped it from your outstretched fingers. “My phone number is on there if you, er, if you ever need it.”

Chin dipping towards his chest, he cocked his head, studying the scrap of paper. “I appreciate it. Be safe getting home.”

“I will.” You vowed, blinking back the building sheen across your vision. “Take care of yourself.”

Before you could stumble and say something he didn’t want to hear, you made your exit.

Taglist: @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04

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mschievousx · 4 months

Text

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

i. one: when we were together

"i look funny."

raine grumbled as she turned to her father who just arrived earlier from god knows where after being away for months. she's not complaining though. she loves her father dearly. that and the fact that her mind is preoccupied at the moment. eloise was right. this does look like being presented for sale, and she hates it.

"you look beautiful, my love." her father reassured, pulling his own fit to compose himself as they are next in line.

"the headdresses are too much."

he laughed at the continuous rant of his only daughter, offering an arm, "don't we just love being too much?"

both stood up straight, back arching and head facing the closed doors, "they'll think we're crazy."

raine exhaled twice, the silence defeaning befor she turned once more to her father.

"are we crazy?" the patriarch only gave out a smirk as he nudged his daughter and whispered 'right face'.

"viscountess loraine silva, presented by her father, the right honourable and gallant, lord silva!"

the doors opened, revealing the very first surprise of the season. as the initial shock set in and the pair walked forward, the ton immediately turned to each other with whispers they did not bother to hide.

"they're insane!" anthony whisper-yelled to his family on the side at the sight of the pair.

"lord silva, good god." colin muttered in disbelief with a laugh.

"i thought it would be lady danbury since it's not mother." voiced out eloise with a grin as she watched them walk, certainly carrying an air of elegance and valiance, very fitting for the pair.

benedict smirked in reply, "well, we should've known really."

upon reaching the queen, both bowed with respect—which, one can argue is lost at what they just did.

"i should have you know you can both be beheaded by this... stunt." the ton held their breaths in anticipation of what will happen next. on the contrary, the concerned pair stood up straight, their smiles borderlining to smirks never leaving their faces. raine definitely took after someone.

"oh, my queen," lord silva began with a chuckle and familiarity dripping in his tone, "i ask you let me savor the very few days i have left in this world."

the queen narrowed her eyes at them before ultimately speaking with a sigh, "go on. i do not want two souls to haunt me tonight."

small gasps can be heard at the mention. lord silva only chuckled as he and his daughter walked to the side, ending their turn of presentation.

"yes, my love. we are crazy."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"armand!"

the man turned to them and opened his arms for a light hug. the act could have been scandalous, really, yet the ton somehow chooses to brush off anything that the quirky silvas do. surely two widows are not worth the gossip, are they?

the presentation to the queen has ended, thankfully, and everyone finds themselves enjoying the rest of the day outdoor.

"oh, loraine, you look beautiful, my dear." the debutante neared the woman for a hug herself as she said her thanks.

"violet, i see you have your hands full this season." raine's father greeted with an observation.

"well, i do hope i can manage two daughters."

"and of your sons?"

lady bridgerton laughed at that as she took the arm that the man is offering.

"would you really like to involve yourself on that matter of our children?" she replied as they both share a chuckle before strolling away.

francesca and raine have chosen to stroll themselves with linking arms, "eloise told me what happened. i wish i was there to see it."

she went out first before the silvas, missing the earlier show. raine, however, was able to take a glance of her before she went out.

"you were perfect earlier, francesca, and do not fret. you will see quite a lot of my mischiefs this season. my debut means the debut of my antics on a higher level."

the kind girl took a hold of her hand with her eyes full of concern as they continue to walk, "raine, i fear you will get into something you cannot get out of."

she smiled warmly at that. raine is close with everyone in the bridgerton family, but she did interact the least with the girl beside her. francesca is quite reserved, but that was definitely not enough to stop loraine in forming a friendship with her as well when they were still children.

"then i will just stay there."

she sighed upon hearing her response, but ultimately smiled, "we are polar opposites."

raine nodded in agreement with a grin, "yet here we are, arm-in-arm."

"such flawless debutantes, spending the day with each other." lady danbury appeared in front of them with narrowed eyes.

"one would think you're shy, which i presume must be true with miss bridgerton but an utter lie with you, miss silva."

the younger lady turned to her with mock surprise, "i am shy, lady danbury. this is my first season after all."

the woman rolled her eyes as she got in between the two debutantes, turning to francesca, "have you talked with the other ladies? they are good company and might share an interest or two with you."

francesca nodded and smiled as she spot the ladies who seemed to be eager to make her acquaintance. lady danbury turned to loraine this time as the latter whined.

"why did you do that? i am good company. we both share an interest in the pianoforte."

"you have enough of socializing with the ladies. now, it's the men's turn."

she said as she guided the silva with a seemingly friendly walk. raine's eyes, however, opened wide as she realise the group she's being guided towards.

"lady danbury," she began, immediately stopping in the middle of their walk as she wasted no time to speak, "i will wipe the floors of your house, lower and upper, inner and outer, do not send me to them of all people."

the older woman tried to give a push at her lower back but her feet did not move an inch. damn this child's upbringing, she thought.

"you have not spent enough time with other gentlemen, that is why you are still so keen on violet's second born."

"i'll include the walls." she threw that in, hoping it will change the woman's mind. raine turned to her to make her point clear, "i have spent enough time with them to know i don't like them."

"the bridgerton boys are rakes." despite the dowager's love for violet, and by extension, her family, there was no lie in what she said at all.

raine did not miss a bit in replying, "i know. i grew up with them."

"and the said rake would like to steal a moment of your time, miss silva." she turned to see benedict with that familiar smirk again before the man turned to the elder woman in greeting, "lady danbury."

"mr. bridgerton, quite the coincidence." she sighed, yet her words were said as if she knew something.

"it must be fate." he corrected with a grin as he offered an arm for raine to take.

"we'd like to excuse ourselves. mother and the viscountess are on the left turn." he said, both of them bowing—quite in mockery because they're little shits, but they will not admit that—before taking a new path.

"i never thought you can be more charming." she turned to her right and grinned.

benedict chose to play humbly as he replied, "i try."

"you don't even have to."

he smiled at that. it always amuses him how she never seems to run out of things to say to him, "quite a show, what you did earlier."

raine laughed, remembering the ton's faces when the grand doors parted, revealing her with her father, "oh, the look on everyone's faces!"

"i must say, your father's looking better now."

"he jests he wants to pull a lady this season. i will seriously shoot him in the leg if he introduces someone my age to me."

thinking a few years back, benedict chuckled as he can totally see that happening now if ever, "your skills will finally come in handy."

raine turned to him genuinely as they continue to walk, "how about you? i am completely asking this in curiosity. are you marrying this season?"

"mother would collapse in joy of having three successful weddings in one season."

once more, there was no lie to that at all. francesca will wed this season. colin, with his newfound personality and interest in the ladies' interests in him, may marry as well. if he adds on top of that, violet will faint. he loves his mother dearly, so he will have to pass for now. that and the fact that he has really no interest in marriage.

he continued, "besides, i'm perfectly in love with my art these days. now that anthony is back, i can pour my time on painting again."

"are you going to enrol in the royal academy again?" she asked, beaming hopefully for a positive answer.

"i might."

"you must." she insists.

"perhaps."

raine narrowed her eyes and slapped his arm lightly, "stop playing coy, ben. it doesn't suit you."

the man turned to him again with a teasing smirk, "everything suits me, as you have said multiple times in the past."

"have i grown your ego too much for your head to contain?" she deadpanned at him before turning to face where they're walking toward again, "but touché."

he laughed at her admission. she was direct and bold, but there were times she's simply comedic. his laughter didn't last long though, as he spot the father of the lady in his arm quite exactly on their path. benedict looked around to disguise his rapid muttering, "your father is burning a hole through my skull with his eyes. i sometimes forget he can enforce a siege on the entirety of mayfair and beyond."

"lord silva... sir," he greeted as they finally reach him, acting as if to raise his right hand, and down again, and up, and—well, honestly, he has no clue what he's doing.

raine laughed at him. she turned to her father, "see, you have been away for so long that everyone believes they must salute to you."

lord silva raised an eyebrow, his gaze still at the bridgerton son but addressing his daughter, "and why should they not? i am a maj—"

"yes, father, a major general," she rolled her eyes at him and dugged even a greater hole, "and above all else, this is your son-in-law."

both men immediately turned to her that she thought they would snap their necks. well, they agree on one thing—their facial expressions of utter shock and betrayal were similar.

benedict, lips parted and mouth still agape with wide eyes, mouthed to her silently, "do you want me to die?!"

raine grinned, turning to her father again who has the same expression and dugged the greatest hole ever, "i jest. he does not like me."

the eyes of the concerned 'he' grew wider than they were before, which he didn't know they could even grow wider than that, as he immediately turned to armand to resolve such misleading implications.

"i—you—i... uhm, you—your daughter is delightfully wonderful... in all aspects! and... i am fond of her a great deal!"

raine snickered from his side as he stutter, while lord silva spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, "she is."

"i most certainly agree." bridgerton nodded with no problem at all, trying to regain his composure.

"has edmund taught you well with guns?"

benedict turned to raine in pure confusion as to where the conversation is going, "i believe so. although, i find myself lifting brushes, sir."

"oh my—stop scrutinizing him." she stated, taking a hold of her father's arm, "you both act as if you've never met each other, went to hunts, and spent leisure time on the backyard," her eyebrows suddenly raised as a thought entered her mind, "or gentlemen's clubs."

"how do you know that?" armand turned to her, shifting his inquiring and quite strict look from ben to his daughter.

rain chuckled at the memory, completely forgetting the supposed secrecy of what she's about to say, "i have snucked in a brothel before. is knowing about clubs above that?"

"you have what?!"

"oh, uhm," realising it now, she laughed awkwardly and let go of her father's arm slowly. she turned to benedict for help, but by the look of it, he was currently not on her side.

seeing the two ladies upfront, she thanked the heavens promptly, "it seems like lady danbury and lady bridgerton wants me to meet other bachelors. we must go."

raine took hold of benedict's hand at once, slowly walking away as armand spoke in a low voice, one she has taken to call as his 'military voice'.

"loraine silva."

her eyes widened, her grasp on his hand tightening. raine did nothing but simply call back to her father, hoping that it will still do the trick.

"i love you, papa!"

she wasted no time to dash, pulling benedict with her towards the safety of the society's mothers.

and to think this is only the first day of the season.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict is a fox #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #father-daughter tandem is fire here because we cant have it in real life

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aleskyyy · 1 month

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Shameless — John Price x Fem!Reader

It's been a few years since you left John, and all of a sudden he comes asking you to come back to him.

Warnings— female reader, angst, no happy ending for John, mention of past cheating, mention of tiny bit alcohol consumption, and I think that's it.

960 words (you can read the first part second choice or you don't have to).

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

You laugh happily as you watch your little girl play with her dog. A sunday morning with sunny weather looks great for relaxing in the park near your house and that's why you take your daughter to play outside. You smile from ear to ear listening to her excited shouts as she chases the dog.

You look around you, seeing the crowds of people taking their time off to relax with their families or by themselves. You gaze at your daughter who runs towards you while stretching out her arms. You quickly catch her and hold her in your arms.

"Oh my God! My little girl is getting bigger and I'm having trouble carrying her," you say in a tone of made-up pain.

Your daughter just laughs while saying that she is still little and still needs to be carried by you.

"Mummy, I want to play with the girls over there, is it okay?" She asked while pointing to a group of girls who were playing.

You look in the direction she's pointing and then gaze lovingly at your daughter while stroking her hair. You lower her from your arms and crouch down to match her height. You nod and smile at her, telling her to be nice to the other children and to behave herself while playing. Your little girl nods excitedly and runs to a group of girls with her dog following her around.

You sit back down, smiling at your daughter who is very good at getting along with other children. You're so focused on your daughter that you don't notice someone sitting next to you.

"She's very good at getting along with other kids."

Your breath catches as you listen to the voice. A voice you haven't heard in years. Your hands clenched into fists beside your body. You were just surprised to meet him again.

"How did you find me?"

"You know how."

You laugh sarcastically at his answer, you didn't mean to laugh like that, but you couldn't help it. Using the power he has to find you, you are no longer surprised by the behavior of the man sitting beside you.

"I'm very much happy with my life right now. So why did you come back, John?" You ask without turning to him.

You can smell the scent of John's body because of the breeze, nothing is different just the added smell of alcohol is very strong. Then you hear John sigh.

"I want to apologize, I'm really sorry for what I did to you, I'm sorry for neglecting a woman as wonderful as you," he explains.

You inhale and exhale slowly and turn to look at John. If you were still your old self, you would happily go back to him even though he betrayed you by sleeping with another woman while you were still married. But you've changed, you won't be trapped like you used to be. Trapped in a state where you say everything will be fine, trapped in a state where you ignore the signs of betrayal from him.

Once again you take a breath and look at him with a respectful smile. Then you look at your daughter who is still playing and laughing with the other children. You think back to what has changed in your life these past few years. Then you look back at John who is looking at you with an expectant look.

"Okay, you can go now."

Hearing that John tried to pull your hand to hold. But before he could hold you you pulled your hand away.

"Love, please. Come back home, we can take your daughter and take care of her together."

"You're crazy."

"I just want my li—our life back like it used to be. You remember where we would watch movies together at night or—or cook together, I know you must miss that too."

You stare at John in disbelief. How could he say this without shame?

"You know, you are so shameless right now. You think I still love you? No, John. And put your thoughts of me coming back to you far away. I'm happy now—"

As if on cue you hear a scream from your daughter, you turn to the direction where she ran. She runs towards a man carrying ice cream and snacks with a happy cry. Without realizing it, a warm smile rises from your lips and it is clearly visible in John's eyes.

"And I wouldn't trade the happiness I have right now for anything," you continue and look back at John.

"I used to love you John, a lot. But that was then. Even I have made peace with what happened to me back then, with what you did to me back then. Look, with that I was given something very precious, John. I have a husband who loves his family very much and also a daughter who brings color into our lives."

You sighed and smiled.

"I really forgive you, John. I don't think there's any use in holding onto anger for very long. And I think if you're really sorry you can let go of that regret now that I've forgiven you. And try to make peace with what happened to us, and I hope you get your happiness too someday."

You stand up and give John a smile one last time.

"Goodbye, John."

John sees you walking towards your daughter who is currently in the arms of the man, your husband, the father of your little girl. John can hear the joyful laughter that escapes your lips as the man wraps one arm around your waist and gives you a warm kiss on your forehead. And that's when John knows that he has truly lost you.

#cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #john price x female reader #captain john price fanfic

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shamelessexplosions · 7 months

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What I've learnt about the Batfamily from Tumblr

I know nothing about Batman - I have never read a comic, I have never watched a Batman series or cartoon or movie with him in it (except from that one scene at the end of wonder woman). This is what I have learnt about the members of the Batfamily entirely from tumblr and other social media.

1. Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne is Batman, and his superpower is being richer than God.

He lives in a mansion in Gotham, which is basically a city entirely made up of psychos

He cannot stop adopting children

Like I'm pretty sure he sees a child on their own with a vaguely traumatic backstory and has to adopt them.

Probably carries adoption papers in his utility belt for that very purpose

I'm not entirely sure how many children he has but that's okay because I don't think he knows either.

When he's in the mask his voice is really deep and he keeps saying "I'm Batman"

When he's not he acts like a complete idiot but probably tips a waitress by paying for their collage tuition

His parents are dead and this is very important - in a world of orphans, he is THE orphan

2. Dick Grayson

Bruce Wayne's oldest adopted son

He was in the circus as an acrobat until his parents died in front of him

I think they were murdered

He was the original Robin

Then he got bored or something and moved to somewhere called bludhaven which honestly sounds Norwegian, and renamed himself Nightwing.

Has extreme big brother energy

3. Jason Todd

Robin #2 because apparently there's a second one

I think he met Bruce after stealing the tires off Batman's car (the batmobile?) and then hitting him with a tire iron which is such a power move, especially for some random kid

He died but it's ok because he fell in a pit and got better

He renamed himself red hood and became a mass murderer for a bit

I think it was just a phase?

He was trained in the way of murder by someone called Talia. He either slept with her or was adopted by her.

I hope it's the second one because I know Bruce slept with her

Likes guns

4. Tim Drake

I think he stalked batman until he found out he was Bruce Wayne

In other words this random kid did what no megalomaniac with a grudge against the furry that routinely beats them up could

But then I think he was Bruce's neighbour pre-adoption so maybe he just noticed batman flying out from under the mansion each night, which says something problematic about his secret identity

He became robin too like how many robins does one city need?

Jason refers to him as 'replacement' which seems cold given 1. He himself was a replacement and 2. tim got replaced as well

I think he's Red Robin now, so clearly not too interested in change.

5. Damien Wayne

Bruce's biological son with the aforementioned assassin/murder trainer Talia.

Was in something called the League of Assassins but left to find his father, which given the name is the League of Assassins sounds like a smart life choice

Talia may have sent Damien to Bruce so she didn't have to deal with a teenager, but it also sounds like he left after an argument with his grandfather and League head-honcho Ra's so not sure whats going on there

Also Robin but I think at this point someone is taking the piss - possibly Batman

Feral Child(tm)

Likes swords

6. Cassandra (Cassie/Cass) Cain?

Maybe her surname is cain? Or maybe it's not?

I'm really confused because I'm pretty sure there is both a Cass and a Cassie in the Child-soldier Justice League and I think one of them is a bat-family member and one of them has something to do with Wonder Woman and they may or may not be the same person

Was an assassin involved in the same organisation as Jason and Damien

Is this where Bruce Wayne is finding his kids?

Was a Robin too (yay for feminism, boo for originality? Get some other names for your feral murder children Bruce)

Now called Spoiler and likes purple

May have at one point been batgirl?

7. Duke ???

Honestly I have no idea, I've just seen his name a couple of times

He was probably Robin at some point - they all appear to have been Robin at some point

I think he likes the colour yellow

8. Stephanie Brown

Another person that I have only vaguely seen the name of

She might have dated one of the batkids, Tim maybe?

May or may not be a batkid herself

May be batgirl, or maybe that was Cassandra, or maybe both. There have been so many robins nothing would surprise me

9. Barbara (Babs) Gordon

Daughter of a police commissioner

hacker

Her father may or may not be aware of her extracurriculars, but Commissioner Gordon has a massive flashlight for summoning batman when he needs help with a case so I don't think he has any room to talk

Goes by Oracle

Not a proper batkid but I doubt that stops her being on the family Christmas card

May have at one point been a Batgirl?

But at this point I'm just guessing everyone was batgirl

Maybe Duke was batgirl!

May use a wheelchair but I'm not certain

10. Alfred Pennyworth

Indeterminate age, may be immortal

Bruce's bulter

Raised Bruce Wayne, but still calls him 'Master Bruce'

Also refers to the batkids as 'master xx'

May or may not be sarcasm

English, ex-army and all-round exceedingly polite badass

Correction, he's English, I can say with confidence it is sarcasm

That is all the people I can think of, sorry if I missed anyone

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nikkisheep · 1 year

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To Be Alone With You (Part Two)

Anthony Bridgerton x Sharma!reader

Series Summary: Let's see, dear readers, where this journey of betrayal, lust, passion, and love take our viscount and Miss Sharma as they find their ways back to each other.

Warnings: Angst, kinda betrayal, guilty reader, proposal, sexual tension, reader stumbles upon Edmund Bridgerton's grave, Smut (oral F)

Summary: After the night of passion that was of you and the Viscount on the dock, Anthony is hit with the realization that he still planned on marrying Edwina.

Tag list: @faatxma

"I dare ask, Brother, what has gotten you to smile so much this fine morning?" Colin asked with a smirk gracing his face.

"I just happen to be in a good mood from the lovely night of sleep that I received last night." Anthony said with yet another smile.

"Could it be that our brother is actually in love with Miss Edwina now?" Benedict teased.

Anthony looked at Benedict and his smile faded at the mention of Edwina. She is a kind girl, just not who Anthony wants. At this, the Sharma sisters hurdle down the stairs in a fit of laughter as you were carrying a bucket of water and chasing your sisters down the stairs in hopes of soaking them. Instead, you slipped on your dress and Anthony raced to catch you before you had hit the floor. The other siblings including Anthony's watched as you let go of the bucket as it soars through the air and you land in Anthony's strong arms. You look at him and go to speak but the water bucket comes crashing down on the two of you, soaking you both completely. The bucket landed on Anthony's head and all you heard was a groan.

"My lord," You say as you shyfully lift the bucket off his head and his dark eyes peek under and make eye contact with you. His hair was ruined and your lady's maids were going to be upset that their hard work went to nothing because of how wet your hair was. You give him a light smile and just as you were getting one in return, Colin cleared his throat.

"Well, Miss Sharma, I am quite impressed with your entrances that you have been making." He smiled.

"I do try," You smile and give a bit of a bow.

"Please, Lord Bridgerton, do not think that we are always like this," Kate tried to reason, hoping that he wasn't mad.

"Miss Kate, you are quite fine. Nothing to worry about. I actually enjoyed the refreshing shower," Anthony laughed, a smile reaching his eyes when he looked at you rather than your sisters. His intended.

----

Another walk in the gardens, you take in the flowers. You didn't realize how long you were in the garden and where the path was taking you. You walk under a large tree and see something that looks like a headstone. You look around and then continue on your walk to the headstone.

"Edmund Bridgerton, Loving Father and Husband," You read on the stone and figured that this had to the man that Anthony always looked up to. This was his father.

You looked down at the flowers in your hands and then bent down to your knees and placed the flowers at the grave site. You were in the middle of a prayer when you heard footsteps. You stand up quickly and then turn to the sound. It was Lady Bridgerton.

"Viscountess-" you started. She lifted a hand to shush you.

"Please call me Violet, dear." She smiled sadly when she looked at the grave.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know and I-I-I wanted to pay my respects to him," You say with a smile.

"This is Edmund. He is my husband. Well, was my husband," The older woman smiled with a sad smile.

"You loved him very much. I can tell. I wish I could have met him," You try to make her feel better.

"Have I told you yet about how much Anthony looks after this family?" She asked.

You shook your head.

"He has been there for all of us after Edmund passed. He was only 18 at the time. God, the stress that fell onto that poor boy. He was holding Edmund when he died and...and I think that was the day that my little boy died. When Edmund left, so did a piece of my son." She said with tears.

"Why are you telling me this?" You ask kindly. You thought she would be telling Edwina.

"Miss Sharma, when Anthony says that he is going to do something, he does it. He says he is going to marry your sister so I wanted you to know that she is in good hands. Anthony is the best of my sons to marry her because there is nothing more important to Anthony than his word." Violet said, taking your hand.

"Violet, he loves her?" You ask with a tremble in your voice.

"I fear so and I have seen the way you look at my son." You looked up with confusion.

"Viscountess...Violet, I'm not understanding what you are talking about. I don't look at Anthony in any way."

"I saw you in the hallway earlier today," She said with a sad smile.

"Tha....That was an accident." You sputter out.

"Darling, I'm not talking about your situation or position. I'm talking about the look in your eyes. It's exactly how I used to look at Edmund." She pat your hand and then stood up to invite you back to the house. You followed her with your heart heavy and mind clouded.

---

Dinner was prepared and you were seated to the left from Anthony who was seated at the head of the table. You couldn't keep a smile when you looked at him because you saw how your sister looked at him. Like he hung the stars in the sky. Your stomach hurt with guilt of what had transpired between you last night.

"And Miss Sharma, I was wondering if you would like to maybe be a model for my paintings," Benedict said with a hopeful look in his eyes.

You smiled at the brother and nod.

"Of course, I have always wanted to be a model and to have my face and body drawn for me," You laugh a little and Benedict smiled and then blushed at you.

Kate smirked at you as she watched you interact with Benedict. You finished your drink and stood up. You turned to leave and kissed Benedict on the cheek. You smile at Violet and she smiled back. You left the room and that made Anthony fuming. Yes, he was supposed to marry your sister but he didn't want her. He wanted you.

Anthony excused himself from the table to follow you. He ran after you and he grabbed your elbow to keep you from going all the way up the stairs.

"Follow me," He said, pulling you down the stairs to his office and closing the door behind you.

"Yes, my lord?" You ask.

"I have been looking for you all day. God...being away from you has been driving me crazy," He says before moving to kiss your shoulder that was exposed. Your head falls back in bliss as you feel his lips ghost your sensitive skin that has only been touched by him.

"My lord-"

"Anthony, darling."

"But my lord, we need to stop." You moan out the last part when he sucks hard on your sweet spot.

"Call me by my name, Miss Sharma. My name is Anthony," He growls into your ear before picking you up and laying you down on his desk, papers sticking to your sweat-layered back.

You look down to see Anthony move under your dress. You start pulling the fabric over your stomach so that you could see his hair and you smile when he kissed your hand that was pulling at the fabric.

"My lord, we should stop. You are to be...married." Your back arched as his tongue made contact to your secret area that he was just last night and you moaned out his name as he ate you like a starved man. He dipped his tongue inside of you and your hand shoots to his hair and pulls harshly and he moans against your body.

"Anthony, oh god.'' You cry out as his finger starts to poke at your entrance and you were overcome by pleasure to even think about Edwina or Kate or what the mother of the man in between your gracious legs had said when her son is tasting you like this.

"Fuck, sweet girl. You taste divine," He groans against your pussy as he pumps in a finger before adding another. Your walls clamped tightly to his fingers and his mouth moved to your clit and starts to suck at it as his tongue flicks out to run over the sensitive bud there.

You reach up and grab a hold of your own breast as he ravages you in the best way. He starts curling his fingers to hook at that sweet, sweet pleasurable spot that laid deep inside you and you felt the coil in your stomach start to tighten to a painful blissful way as he looks up at you with deep, dark eyes that were blown with lust and you let go just at his stare alone.

"Cum for me, let me feel you. That's it. Be a good girl and let go for me. Let me taste you," He moans against you as he feels you gush around his fingers and onto his awaiting tongue. He drinks everything you have to offer until you have to push him away due to the over stimulation that happens due to his constant assault to your sensitive nerves.

He kisses up your body again and fixes your dress. You lean into his kisses and he whispers about how much he loves you before he helps clean you up. You hold onto him and he carefully takes you back to your room. You sigh because you know that you have to tell him that you couldn't keep doing this because he wants to marry your sister.

"My lord," You start.

"Anthony," He says.

"My lord," You try to continue.

"Why won't you call me Anthony unless we are private like we just were?" He said with a sad look in his eyes.

"Because you are not mine, my lord." You sigh before closing the door in his face.

---

The following day, you were walking with your family as everyone was ready to leave and head back to London. You were sad but as soon as you saw Anthony walking to you, a smile crossed your face.

"My lord," You give a bow.

"Miss Sharma," You think he was talking to you but when you turn to his voice again, he was on one knee in front of your sister.

"Miss Edwina, I think this has been a long time coming and I would love to have the honor of making you my wife," Anthony said before you let out a gasp as he opened the ring box. It was his mother's. Edmund had given it to her and now he was giving it to Edwina.

Edwina gave a yes and kissed Anthony's cheek. Not knowing that his face was just between your legs last night and the night before. She will never know and you would sit in silence. You watched the happy couple and Kate hug them both and your mother was so happy. You smile to the couple and make eye contact with Anthony. All was said in those few seconds.

"I still want you."

#anthony bridgerton x sharma!reader #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x reader smut #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #to be alone with you

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dianawinchester03 · 2 months

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Season 2, Episode 12 - Nightshifter

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: A very very late update and I do apologize for that but I’ve made it somewhat long to make up for it lol. Just a little heads up, you guys are probably gonna HATE y/n in this chapter. But remember that no one is perfect, so I do hope everyone enjoys!

Also, I made playlists to go with the book🥰Been wanting to do it for a while but I wasn’t sure if anyone would like it then I was like fuck it hahahah

1) Princess’ Hits👑 - The playlist Dean made for Y/N (its a little longer than I originally intended but I got carried away lol)

2) Idiots to Lovers💕 - Honestly just songs that remind me of the pair, I’ll be adding more as the series continues and their relationship progresses

Third Person POV

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Dean's eyes were narrowed in Y/N's direction in the recently robbed jewelry store they were investigating as she flirted with the gorgeous brunette girl behind the counter. Gritting his teeth as the familiar burning feeling in his chest arises. He clenched his fists, his body tense and rigid, as he observed Y/N and the brunette laughing together. His eyes darkened with jealousy and annoyance, silently berating himself for his reaction.

"So, what's it like, being an FBI girl?" The brunette asked intrigued, her tone alluring. "Well, it's dangerous. Yeah." Y/N sighed, allowing a coy smile to play on her lips as the woman's brows raised with interest, her eyes trailing down y/n's physique. "And the secrets we gotta keep, oh god. The secrets" Y/N muttered, shaking her head to add to the act.

"But mostly....it's lonely" Y/N added, a twinge of mischief in her eyes as she scanned the woman's frame. "I so know what you mean." The woman nodded her head as she gasped, falling for the act. This made y/n's smirk, "Mhhmm" She hummed, leaning on the jewelry counter.

Dean couldn't help but huff in irritation as he watched the duo flirt shamelessly. He tried to push it away, reminding himself that Y/N was just playing a part in their undercover mission. Still, the way the woman's eyes roamed over Y/N's figure in that knee-length, skin-tight skirt, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Hypocritical much, Dean? His inner voice chastised him. Making him roll his eyes to himself. Hating the fact that his inner monologue was dead right.

"Dean- Hellooo, are you listening to me?" Sam snapped in annoyance, waving in hand in-front of Deans face after realizing his idiot brother wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying. Sam's voice snapped Dean out of his thoughts, jolting him back to reality. He quickly shook his head, shifting his attention back to his younger brother.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," he muttered gruffly, trying to hide his irritation. "What were you saying?" He forced a casual tone, shoving his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Forcing himself to tear his gaze away from y/n and the counter girl.

Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow as he studied his older brother's demeanor. Despite Dean's attempt to act nonchalant, it was clear to Sam that something was bothering him. He knew his brother all too well, and that tension in Dean's shoulders and the clench of his jaw gave him away. Sam's eyes traced over to Y/N, now realizing she was flirting with the counter girl. Putting two and two together he snorted in amusement.

"Helena was our head buyer. She- She was family, you know?" The manager of the jewelry store explained to the Winchesters, his tone filled with sadness, "She said it herself. Every year at the Christmas party. She said that we were the only family she had" He added, "So there were never any signs that she'd do something like this?" Sam asked, "No, I still can't believe it, even now" The manager shook his head.

"That night, Helena came back to the store after closing. Cleaned out all the display cases and the safe" He explained. "Edgar, our night watchman, he caught her in the act. He didn't know what to do. He'd known her for years....he called me at home" The manager gulped, "And that's when she took his gun?" Dean asked. "She shot him in the face....I heard him die....over the phone" The manager said tearfully.

"Any idea what the motive could've been?" Sam asked, "What motive? It makes no sense." The manager exclaimed. "Why steal all that diamonds, all that jewelry, then when? Just dump it somewhere? Just hide it and then go home and-"

Across the store, by the counter, "She killed herself?" Y/N asked the counter girl she was chatting up. "Well the cops said she dropped a hairdryer in the bath and fried herself. They should know, right?" The woman responded, "Yeah" Y/N nodded, thinking for a second before flashing her a coy smile. "Well, thanks Frannie, I think that's all I need" Y/N smiled,

"Really? I mean, because I've got more" Frannie smirked a bit, this made y/n's brows raise, intrigued. "You know, if you wanted to interview me...sometime, in private" Frannie said in a suggestive tone, biting her bottom lip. Y/N's mouth went dry, her eyes flickering over to Dean with a twinge of guilt in her heart.

It doesn't mean anything, it doesn't mean anything. She chanted to herself again before turning back to Frannie with a coy smile.

"Yeah. Yeah. I think that's a good idea" Y/N nodded, making Frannie smile in victory as Y/N pointed at her with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You're a true patriot hun, you really are. Why don't you write your number down there for me? That'd be good" She suggested, wiping her mouth as Frannie wrote down her number for her. Gulping a bit as her eyes flicker over to Dean again and back to Frannie.

"So you never saw the security camera footage yourself, then?" Dean asked as Y/N approached them, his eyes darted over to her, noticing she was stuffing a paper with what he presumed was a number in her pocket. She cleared her throat as Dean held the urge to roll his eyes, "The police, they took all the tapes, first thing" The manager shook his head.

"Of course they did" Y/N muttered, nudging the boys.

________________________________

The Impala pulled across the street from one of the people they were meant to question. Since Y/N took her bike back to Sioux Falls, leaving Quinn at Bobby's to save on gas, she was lounging in the backseat. "Look at your file, this is it" Sam told Dean as he parked. "Ugh, fucking cops" Dean grunted as he opened his drivers side door, shutting it hard before moving over to open the backdoor for y/n.

"They're just doing their job, Dean" Y/N defended as she stepped out. "No, they're doing our job. Only they don't know it, so they suck at it" Dean sassed, shoving the back door shut. Earning an amused eye roll from y/n, "Fair point" She muttered with a shrug. "Talk to me about this bank" Y/N told Sam as they made their way up the curb and towards the house.

"Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago" Sam informed them, closing the passenger side door. "Same M.O. as the jewelry store?" Dean asked, "Yep, inside job, long-time employee. The never in a million years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide" Sam explained as they walked up the porch. "And this guy, Reznick, he was the security guard on duty?" Y/N asked as she raised her hand to knock on the door.

"Yeah, he was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place" Sam added, "God" Dean muttered, "Yeah" Sam sighed as y/n's knuckles wrapped on the screen door. "Mr. Reznick?" She called out to the man. "Ronald Reznick?" She called out again after a couple seconds of no answer. Then suddenly, a giant ring light at the corner of the door flashes in the faces of the hunters.

Practically blinding the, "Son of a-", "Jesus Chr-" Both Dean and Y/N exclaimed, all shielding their eyes from the blinding light. A short heavy set man with shoulder length hair appeared on the other side of the door inside the house. "FBI, Mr. Reznick" Sam informed the man, squinting from the blinding light. "Let me see the badge" Ronald demanded. This made Sam give him an unimpressed look as Dean and Y/N huff.

All pulling their badges out from their inner jacket pockets, lifting it up with their right hands, pressing it to the clear screen door simultaneously. Ronald leaned in to take a look before saying, "I already gave my statement to the police" He told them as they put their badges away. "Yeah, listen, Ronald, uh, just some things about your statement. We wanted to get some clarification on it" Dean said causally, tucking his badge away.

"You read it?" Ronald asked hopefully. "Sure did" Y/N flashed him a sweet smile. "Come to listen to what I gotta say?" He asked surprised, pointing to himself. "Well, that's why we're here" Dean nodded before Ronald smiled, opening the door. "Well, come on in" He invited them in. "None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on" Ronald rambled as they made their way down the hall behind him.

Now in his living room, there were multiple articles about the robberies plastered on his wall. They all shared a skeptical look, "They all thought I was crazy. First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust. Okay, that I guarantee" Ronald began as they all scanned the room with their eyes. Y/N noticed a poster shading, 'Cheeseheads are Potent Mandriod Spies' and this peaked her curiosity with the multiple conspiracy theories posted on the wall.

"See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts and we'd play cards." Ronald explained to them, "So you let him into the bank that night. After hours" Sam pointed out in realization. "The thing I let into the bank....wasn't Juan" Ronald said with guilt, "I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face" He continued to ramble as the hunters shared a look, raising their brows at the man.

"Every detail was perfect, but too perfect. You know? Like if a doll maker made it, like, I'd I was talking to a big Juan doll." Ronald explained, his eyes wild as he took out a file from beneath his computer. "A 'Juan doll'?" Sam and Y/N questioned in unison at the term. All blinking at the man as if he was crazy, "Look, this wasn't the only time it's happened, okay? There was this jewelry store too" Ronald defended, handing y/n the file, opening it.

Sam and Dean peered over her shoulder to take a look. "And the cops and you guys, I mean, you just won't see it. Both crimes were pulled by the same thing" Ronald explained as they canvassed the file of newspaper clippings, surprised that Ronald put this together. "And what's that, Mr. Reznick?" Sam asked in a professional tone. Ronald picked up a magazine with a picture of a robot on the cover, pointing to it firmly.

"Chinese been working on it for years. And the Russians before that. Part man, part machine" He exclaimed joyfully, making Dean roll his eyes while Sam and Y/N grimace. "Like the Terminator but the know that can change itself. Make itself look like other people" Ronald pointed to his temple, a smile on his face. "Like the one from T2" Dean snorted, "Exactly!" Ronald exclaimed, happy he got the reference.

Dean smiled at this while Sam and Y/N shot him a side eye, making his smile falter. "See, not just a robot. More of a-a-a-a 'mandriod' " He explained, trying to find the word. "A Mandriod?" Sam raised his brows at his in amusement as y/n held back a laugh. Feeling a hit sorry for the poor bastard who has no idea what was actually going on, but he wasn't quite far off.

"And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?" Y/N quipped as they all bit back smirks. Ronald's face dropped for a second before holding up his finger to indicate to them to give him a minute.

Ronald slid a tape into his DVR, "See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them, they'd be buried. Here" Ronald explained to them, now sat on his couch, patiently waiting for him to start the tape with intrigued looks on their faces. "Now watch. Watch him, watch, watch. See? Look, t-t-there it is!" Ronald exclaimed as he rewinded the tape show Juan's eyes.

There was a flicker of something silver in his eyes, a look of recognition crossed the hunters faces as they shared a knowing look. "You see, he's got the laser eyes" Ronald exclaimed as he pointed to his eyes, convinced Juan was a Mandriod but he was far off. Ronald smiled in victory as he stared at the video footage, "Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of 'camera flare'. Okay?" He air quoted with a chuckle as he got back up.

"Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post trauma case" He snorted as Sam, Dean and Y/N shared a look while Ronald took the tape out. "So what? Bank goes and fires me? It don't matter. The Mandriod i-is still out there" He exclaimed hysterical as he pinned up a clip out of the News article of the jewelry store robbery on his board before turning back to them.

"The law won't hunt this thing down...I'll do it myself" He said determined, pointing to himself. "You see, this-this thing, i-i-i-it killed the real people. Makes it look like a suicide. Then it sort of like..." He gestured down to his body. "...morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while til it knows the take is fat...and then it finds its opening" Ronald smiles, believing he's right, which is his but not particularly.

They knew what they were dealing with but they continued to listen, "Now, these robberies, they're-they're grouped together. So I figure, the-the Mandriod is holed up in the middle" Ronald explained, tracing the locations on his map that's attached to his board with his finger, "underground maybe, I don't know. M-m-maybe that's where it recharges it's uh, m-m-mandriod batteries" He said, pressing his fingers to his chest.

The hunters raised an inquisitive eye as Dean pumps his brow. "Okay" Sam cuts in, his tone dry, nudging y/n to take over. She usually has a gentle touch when it comes to breaking the news to civilians so she took over. "Hun, I want you to listen very carefully" Y/N says gently, getting up from the couch, the boys following behind her. "Because I'm about to tell you the god's honest truth..."

"...about all of this" She added in a soft tone as Ronald nodded frantically and excitedly, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited. "There's no such thing as Mandriods" She said in a flat tone, making Ronald's face drop. You could practically see the guys heart break outside of his chest. Dean bit back an amused look as Sam schooled a serious one, but he was amused on the inside.

"There's nothing evil or inhumane going on out there. It's just people." She added firmly. "Nothing else, you understand?" Y/N chided as if she was talking to a child. Ronald was speechless, "...T-the laser eyes-" He croaked defensively, pointing to his eyes but Sam chimed in, "It's just a camera flare Mr. Reznick" Sam added firmly, the crushed look on Ronald's face deepening.

"See, I know you don't wanna believe it, but your friend Juan robbed the bank, and that's it" Y/N said in a flat tone while tears welled up in Ronald's eyes. "Get out of my house! Now!" He yelled at them, pointing at the door. They seemed unfazed by this, "Sure" Sam shrugged, "But first things first" He narrowed his eyes at Ronald, who looked baffled and Dean looked confused but intrigued, furrowing his brows.

________________________________

Y/N's POV

After practically sucker punching Ronald Reznick into giving us all of his security tapes, the boys and I made our way back to our motel room. Currently Dean and I were waiting for Sam to get back in while he was drinking a beer, staring at the pictures we had taped to the wall. I was sitting at the table in the middle of the room, my feet kicked up on the desk, smoking a cigarette.

Sam finally came back, stepping into the room as Dean quipped up, "Man, that hand gotta be the kicker, straight up" Dean snickered amused. "I mean, you two tell that poor son of a bitch that- What did you say, Sammy? Remand the tapes that he copied?" Dean snorted as Sam shoved a tape into the DVR on the TV across the room. "Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation? That's messed up" He shook his head, moving over to take a seat across from me at the table.

While Sam sat in-front of the TV, remote in his hand. "What are you? Pissed at us or something?" Sam scoffed, turning to Dean who snatched my feet from the table and rested it on his lap gently. I cocked my brow at him but let it be as I dusted my ash from the bud into the tray. "Nahh, I just think it's creepy how good you guys are at being feds" He stated a bit amused but me and Sam rolled our eyes at him.

"We've only been doing this for a lifetime" I quipped up which earned me a snort from Dean while Sam chuckled. "I mean, come on. We could've at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here" Dean defended, it was now my turn to scoff. "Mandriod?" I pointed out the stupidity as I took a sip of my beer. "Except for the Mandriod part" Dean muttered as he scuffled through the blueprints laid out on the table.

"I liked him. He's not that different from us" I agreed with a shrug. Ronald seemed sweet but he was a little in over his head. "Yeah. People think we're crazy" Dean added as he drew a red line on the graph paper. "Yeah, except he's not a hunter, guys. He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing, he'd get torn apart" Sam argued, me and Dean share a look at this and couldn't help but agree he was right.

It's the main reason I took Sam's hint and dismissed Ronald's idea about the mandriods. "Yeah, I guess" Dean mumbled as he doodled in the graph paper. Sam turned back to the TV, pausing it when Juan looked up at the camera. His eyes flashed over a flicker of silver, "Shapeshifter." Sam scoffed in recognition, shaking his head. "Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video." He added.

"Eyes flare at the camera." Dean muttered. As my mind went flashing back to the memory of our last encounter of a shapeshifter.

•Flashback to St. Louis 2005:

"I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky, seeing as Dean is so convinced he doesn't have a chance with Y/N and is so stupid to not even admit his feelings for her to himself. He would bang little Becky if he had the chance" Shapeshifter Dean says and I freeze, my heart feels like it's gonna fall out of my chest.

What the fuck? Is he high or something? He's got to be lying. Demons do it to weaken their targets. Surely shifters do it too because he was just taunting Sam. Sam looks over to me quickly and Shapeshifter Dean turns to me.

"And sweet sweet little Y/N.." He coos, striding over to me. "He has quite the thing for you..I mean me. Gotta admit though, I've got amazing taste in women" He crouches down and rests his hand on my cheek, which makes me feel physically ill.

"Don't touch her!" Sam shouts protectively and I nod at him to assure him I'm fine. I move my head away from him but he just comes closer to me. The smile on his face makes my stomach churn and not in a good way.

"You are the package deal. You're sexy, smart, snarky, and funny. You know how to keep me on my toes, challenge me. You make me laugh in any situation despite how stressful it is. Hell, I hate to admit it but you keep me in line whenever I'm acting like the dick I am" He chuckles at the last part, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"Sometimes I'm even a bit jealous at the friendship you have with Sammy....But the way you would look at me sometimes, your flirty little comebacks, the way you would sway your hips when you walk, the sight of you on that bike of yours....oh mannn....gets me going everytime" He licks his lips looking at me with a lustful gaze and I feel a chill run down my spine in disgust.

"Jesus dude, at least by me dinner first" I sneer at him and he chuckles. "See? That's the snark I'm talking about" He says, smiling at me and rubbing his thumb on my bottom lip. "Where.Is.Dean?" I grit my teeth at him. "I'm right here baby" He says huskily and I groan.

"I remember how stoked I was when you didn't hesitate to come with us to find my dad...then your daddy went missing too...tsk tsk tsk...poor thing" He says sympathetically, clicking his tongue.

"You grew from this adorable shy timid girl who was afraid of her daddy to this beautiful confident badass women who stood her ground against her controlling father and left..." He trails off as if he's recollecting something, then he roughly grabs my hair, pulling it harshly causing me to wince in pain.

"LET GO OF HER YOU DICK!" Sam yells from across the room, trying to rip out of his bindings. "Did you know when you ran away, your dad had me looking for you for months!" He shouts in my face. "Hauled my ass from Washington to Florida and back!"

"You should've never run away you little bitch" He seethes through his teeth pulling my hair more making me cry out in pain. "You're lucky I covered for your ass every single time, I knew exactly where you were and I had to lead him away every time because I was trying to be a good friend!". He grits his teeth in anger

"You did me just like Sam and walked out when I needed you most! Sam left and then you! God you two are selfish" His tone is pained, betrayed. And I snap, a sick thought crossing my mind but I'm too angry to care right now if he kills me or not.

"Well let me make it up to you" I say suggestively, flashing him a coy smile. Hes fully taken back at this. My eyes flicker to Sam and. I can see his expression go from angry to confused from across the room. A clear look of shock is evident but a sickening smirk on Shapeshifter Dean's face.

"And how would you do that, princess?" He says huskily. I could see Sam's face contorting to disgust across the room, confused and angry. "Lay a kiss on me charming, you wouldn't regret it" I wink at him, smiling seductively.

"You're kidding?" He says surprised, chuckling, his grip loosening on my hair. "No jokes" I grit my teeth, trying to hide my disgust. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" Sam yells from across the room.

Shapeshifter Dean's eyes flicker down to my lips, when leans in to kiss me, just as his lips is centimeters away from mine. I hawk up a loogie, spitting it in his face and draw my head back instantly, head-butting him in his nose.

"YOU BITCH!" He screams in pain. He holds his nose, stumbling back. When he recovers, he draws his fist back, right hooking me in my face, hard. "STOP IT!" Sam pleads begging. I turn my head back to Shapeshifter Dean, laughing, a victorious grin on my face. The metallic taste of blood and saliva coating my taste buds.

"Fuck you, you even punch like a bitch. That's to show you'll never be Dean" I sneer at him, spitting the blood out from my mouth on the ground besides me. He groans in pain, grabbing a tarp covering Sam who's yelling at him. He then grabs another to cover me but before he does, he looks at me and says. "I can't wait to kill you" and I smirk.

"Look at me good. Remember this face clearly. Cuz I'll be the last thing you see when I put a bullet in your head, you skin shedding, goopy son of a bitch!" My tone is deadly as I seethe through my teeth. "Well...if it ain't working with you...let's see how it works out with Becky" he winks at me. Covering me with the tarp.

•Present Time:

I shook my head, blinking rapidly as I crushed my cigarette butt in the tray. My heart was practically out of my chest, god I was stupid to think I ever had a chance with Dean. "I hate those fucking things" I growl, my nostrils flaring as I took my feet off of Deans lap. He shot me a confused look as Sam shot me a sympathetic one, "Agreed, sister" Sam grumbled in agreement, "Yeah, well one didn't turn into you guys and frame you for murder" Dean quipped back.

"Yeah, well it did try to kiss me. I win" I huff, shivering at the thought. I could see a flash of anger in Dean's eyes at this, clenching his jaw before going back to tracing on the graph paper. "Yeah, and you spat in its face, right?" Sam asked. "Mhmm, and head-butted the bastard right on its nose" I grinned with pride as Sam chuckled. "Good shot" He praised.

I preened under the praise but looked up to see Dean staring down at the graph paper, his mouth twitching slightly, I furrowed my brows at this and kicked his leg softly. "Earth to Dean, you still back in the 21st century?" I teased, he looked up at me with a smirk. "Ha, ha" He quipped back sarcastically with an eye roll.

I attempt to change the subject as I page the room, "Besides the point. Look, if this shifters anything like the one we killed in Missouri-" I began. "-then Ronald's right." Sam cut in, giving us a knowing look. "Alright, they like to lair up underground. Preferably the sewer. All the robberies have been connected so far, right?" Dean stated as he lifted the graph paper he was tracing from the blueprint of the sewer.

"Yeah," Sam answered, shaking his head as I strolled over to Dean's chair, bracing behind him with my hand resting on the back of his chair as I peered over his shoulder. Dean cleared his throat after glancing back at me, holding up the graph paper he traced out on, resting it over the map. "So the uh, sewer main layout" He peeled it back to reveal one more bank that was in that layout, pointing at it before circling it with the red marker.

"There's one more bank lined up in that sewer main" He discovered and my eyes widened at this. "Impressive" I muttered leaning in further in over his shoulder to look at Dean's markings, my hair brushing over his shoulder. I could feel him shiver slightly and his jaw clench, watching him swallow hard. I smirked, noticing his reaction to me. "Atta boy, charming" I praised him with a chuckle, clapping the palm of my hand on his shoulder.

His brows shot up a bit in surprise. He flashed me a grin and I swore his ears turned red as they were slightly tinted in red but it might have been my imagination. "Uh thanks" He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Avoiding my gaze as Sam looked between us, raising an eyebrow, snickering before rolling his eyes at us as he got up.

"I'm gonna get food" Sam announced, "You guys want your usuals?" He asked us, picking up Dean's car keys on the nightstand, snatching up his jacket from his bed. "Yeah" Dean and I both answered in unison, glancing at each other and a snort escaped my lips at this. "Thanks Sammy" I called sarcastically as he rolled his eyes, flipping me off, a middle finger in my direction.

He then left, shutting the door behind him, leaving me and Dean alone. I raised my eyebrows turning to face Dean who was looking at me. He had a look in his eyes, something I wasn't used to seeing from him. It was intense, not like the amused gazes and grins he usually throws my way. There was a hint of...lust? I doubt it. I titled my head at him as I leaned on the back of the chair.

"Something on my face or you just enjoy the view, charming?" I teased casually. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, his eyes never leaving my face. "Don't flatter yourself, princess" he mutters in a joking gruff voice. I felt my stomach doing backflips, the gruffness of his voice driving me crazy. But I quickly schooled the act.

Get it together girl.

"Wouldn't dare" I joked back, trying my best to keep my cool. I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my lower lip. Trying my best to not let my eyes linger on those lips of his. He smirked, I've always wondered what it would be like to have those lips all over me...oh my god. I am horrendously down bad.

"Mmmm....your lip must really get dry because you do that a lot" Dean commented, motioning toward my lips, drawing my attention back to him. It dawned on me that I had my bottom lip tucked in between my teeth, running my tongue over it repeatedly. I didn't even notice when he leaned forward a bit. "What?" I mumbled, my arms dropping to my sides as the blush creeped on my cheeks.

The only thing running through my mind is the image of his lips all over my skin. God this is just pathetic.

"You're doing it again" He drawled in that damn honeyed voice of his. Dean's gaze trailed from my lips to my eyes, my chest heaving slightly. My gaze went from his eyes, to his lips and back to his eyes. Dean shifted in his chair slightly, while every part of my body was yelling at me to kiss him. My gut was telling me yes but my mind was telling me no.

His gaze was intense, and his shoulders were tensed, a visible muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched it. Dean was fighting something in this moment, I wasn't completely sure what, but he was struggling to restrain from something. Our breaths were labored, our faces inches apart.

Screw it, to hell with, I'm fucking tired of holding back.

'Say your prayers little one,

Don't forget my son,

To include everyoneeee'

Just as I was about to cave and yank him by his shirt, my phone rang. Enter Sandman by Metallica blaring through the quiet heated motel room. We both jumped at the sound of the music. You've got to be kidding me. I leaned back, exhaling a frustrated breath through my nose, digging my hand into my pocket and grabbing my phone and looking at the caller ID.

Dean cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, slumping back in his chair. "It's Ash" I informed Dean, looking at him apologetically, he gave me a reassuring nod, gesturing for me to answer my phone, his shoulders tensing even more if possible.

"This better be good, Billy Ray" I answer through gritted teeth, my tone coming off slightly frustrated. I could feel my heart beating fast still from how close we were moments ago before the phone rang. Dean shifted in his chair, rubbing his temple, his eyes on the floor. "Hey, cupcake" Ash's southern voice crackled over the other line.

"Not a great time, dude" I ground out in irritation, shifting on my feet, my fingers clutching the phone tighter. Dean continued to stare at the tile floor clenching and unclenching his jaw, his shoulders visibly tense. Sam better take his sweet time coming back.

Apparently he got a lead on Jo. She cut him off too and Ellen made him track her down. They hoped we heard from her but I haven't, I'm not sure if Sam has. I made sure to tell him that I'd ask Sam and let him know before shooting him some choice words about, "You could've just called Sam and ask him yourself"

He just chuckled, making some comment about my 'sass' but I wasn't really paying much attention as my eyes were roaming over the back of Dean's chair right now. Before Ash could say anything else, I made another snarky comment and hung up on his ass.

I let out a frustrated groan as I shoved the phone back in my pocket. The silence between me and Dean was deafening and all I wanted to do right now is just...him. I was sure our moment was ruined and any chance at anything happening died in that moment. "I'm sorry" I sighed.

"It's not your fault princess" He muttered, a gruffness in his tone. He glanced up to me, his gaze intense, causing my stomach to flip. Suddenly his tongue darted over his lower lip unconsciously and my gaze dropped down to it. My mind going hazy. Dean pushed himself from the chair, strolling over to me. I unconsciously backed back into the dresser, pressing against it, swallowing hard.

He caged me in by placing his hands on the dresser on both sides of me, his eyes never leaving mine. There was that look in them again, this time it was a mixture of something I couldn't quite place. Lust? Yes, that was definitely one of them. But I'm not sure what the other emotion might be.

I'm pretty sure the universe hates us, because the door swung open on cue, revealing Sam with a bag of food in his hands. "They didn't have pi- WOAH!" He exclaimed, almost dropping the food in his hands. We immediately broke apart at the sound of Sam's voice. "SON OF A-" "JESUS CHR-"Dean and I exclaimed in unison as he ran hand through his hair, letting out a huff. Sam paled for a second, his eyes wide before recuperating, he looked between us as a sheepish smile appeared on his face.

Before he could speak, I pointed a finger in his direction. "Don't say it" I warned, causing him to smirk.

I huffed, not daring to look Dean in his eyes. Before stalking over to the table and snatching up my pack of cigarettes. Dean took the bag of food from Sam and tossed it on one of the beds, Sam still looking between us, his smirk growing wider. "Were you guys-" He started to say, only to be cut off by Dean. "Don't finish that sentence" Dean warned, pointing a stern finger at him before I closed the motel door behind me.

I flicked the lighter after taking out a cigarette and bringing it to my lips. I took a long inhale, savouring the feeling as the smoke filled my lungs and the calming sensation washed over me. I exhaled, watching the smoke dance in the air as I stared off at the cars in the parking lot.

I took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs again, as I tried to fight off the thoughts that were clouding my mind. I didn't know what to think, my thoughts were mixed between lust and confusion at the moment.

The last thing I expected was for Dean to act that way. The way he looked at me...the way he caged me in against the dresser, I could feel his body heat radiating, feel his breath on my skin. I bit my lip and shivered, god I'm pathetic.

I'm not gonna lie to myself and say I didn't want Dean to kiss me. It's exactly what I wanted, but I'm gonna take tonight's close call of events as a sign. Maybe it's just not meant to happen, I know for a fact Dean is attracted to me, there's no denying that. I wasn't that dumb or blind. He never failed to leave sly comments and his hands tend to linger on me more often. But attraction doesn't mean he feels the way I feel about him.

He may be infatuated but that doesn't equal love. My mind keeps telling me that even if we were to kiss, hook up or whatever. It'll just be that. A hookup. I truly believe all he'll want from me is to be friends with benefits for the most part. And I can't do that...not with him at least. He's an amazing guy, but I'd rather have him in my life as a friend than fool myself into believing I could be more than that with him one day and end up losing him.

________________________________

The next evening, the boys and I headed over to the City Bank of Milwaukee, disguised as 'Securiserve Guard Service' employees. "Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet" Henry, the shift security guard, told us as he led us through the crowded bank. "No, no, no, this is a glitch in the overall grid" Dean cut in, "Yeah, we just wanna make sure the branch monitors are kosher, sir" I added in a sweet tone.

My mind was still fixated on the events of last night but I forced myself to push it aside for the sake of the hunt. I couldn't let my infatuation and feelings get in the way.

Henry smiled at me, taking the bait, "Ah, better to be safe than sorry I guess" He offered me a small smile. "That's the plan" Dean shot me a wink as we glance back over to Sam. Henry lead us to the room with all of the security monitors, swiping a card over the door before pushing it open. "Alrighty. You guys need anything else?" He asked us kindly. "Oh no, no. We'll be in and out before you know it. A routine check" Sam assured him.

"Okey-dokey," Henry nodded before leaving. Dean snorted as Henry closed the door, "I like him. He says okey-dokey" Dean practically giggled as me and Sam shared a look. "What if he's the shifter?" I suggested as they stepped forward to pull out chairs and to a seat in-front of all of the monitors. "Then we follow him and put a silver bullet through his chest plate" Dean stated with a shrug while pulling out two rolling chairs.

He gestured for me to sit in the first one he pulled out and I feigned a gasp, "Such a gentleman. Are you gonna brush my hair next?" I joked, placing a hand over my chest in mock surprise. "What, would you like that?" He asked, a smirk on his face as he pulled out the chair next to it for himself. "Maybe" I teased, before taking a seat in the chair.

I sighed as we studied the screens, "Okay...got any popcorn" Dean muttered bored and I snorted. I had a fair mind that he was gonna get bored easily when he suggested yesterday that we do this. So I reached into my pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, handing it to him, "You are too predictable" I laughed.

Dean's eyes widened as I pulled a chocolate bar out of my pocket and handed it to him. He feigned a look of offense and playfully gasped at me, "Hey! How dare you call me predictable! That's not nice." He tried to keep a straight face but failed to do so. "Do you want the candy candy bar or not?" I deadpanned.

"... Yeah, I want the damn candy, you're right." He grumbled, giving me a cheeky grin as he took the chocolate from me and started to unwrap it. He leaned back in his chair, his legs spread out before him and resting up against my chair, and he stuffed the candy in his mouth. "Don't worry little Winchester, I got us something too" I turned to Sam, fishing out a pack of gum from my other pocket.

Sam looked up from the monitor he had his attention locked on, his expression lighting up slightly when he saw the pack of gum. He eagerly took it from my hand and pulled out a stick, unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth. He leaned back in his chair too, his position mirroring Dean's. Brothers.

I shook my head as I unwrapped a piece of gum, popping it into my mouth.

Hours have passed and no one seemed to be the shifter, a lack of silver in all of their eyes. I leaned back into my chair, my feet propped up on Dean's leg as I blew a bubble in my gum out of boredom. Dean leaned over, using the mouse connected to one of the monitors and zoomed in on Henry's face, "Well, looks like Mr. Okey Dokey is....okey dokey" He commented, earning a snicker from me.

Sam seemed beyond bored and that was saying a lot. Because it takes a lot to make him bored. Can't say I blame him, we've been here for hours and so far it's a dead end. I'm beginning to have my doubts. "Maybe we jumped the gun on this, fellas" I sighed, yawning as I stretched in my chair. "Yeah, we don't even know it's here" Sam agreed, turning to us. Dean hummed, probably still convinced that the shifter was here.

He ran his hands up and down my shins as he canvassed the monitor. "Maybe we should just go back to the sewers and-" I go to suggest but I noticed Dean was zooming in on one of the female bank attendant's ass on the monitor. At the corner of my eyes I can see Sam roll his eyes in annoyance at his perverse behavior. I quickly took my feet off of his thighs, reaching over to swat him across the back of his head.

"Ow! What was that for, woman?!" He cried out in faux offense, rubbing the back of his head dramatically. "Can you not be perverse for one minute?!" I hissed, gesturing to the monitor that he's eyeing like a creep. "Dean, we're supposed to be looking for eyes" Sam said in an exasperated tone, "I'm getting there" Dean muttered defensively before zooming out on the woman's behind. "Oh, yeah?" I huffed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at how much of a hypocrite I'm being right now.

Taking Frannie's number, which I am definitely going to be using later, to almost kissing him to now being jealous of Dean looking at another woman's ass? What is happening to me?! Lord, give me the strength. Get a grip y/n! I need to get laid...I need to get over him.

"Wait a minute" Dean muttered, sitting up from his chair. Snapping me out of my inner monologue. Our eyes shifted over to the screen where the bank manager's eyes flickered silver in the lens. "Hello, freak" Dean smirked, zooming in on the man's face. "Got him," Sam sighed in relief. Me and Sam immediately got up to head for the door but Dean stopped up. "Sammy, y/n/n"

"What?" We asked in unison, turning to Dean. We lifted our heads again to the direction Dean's eyes were trained on. The security cameras showed Ronald around the back with a loaded automatic, chaining the doors at the back entrance locked. "Hello, Ronald" I groaned in annoyance. This dude is gonna get himself killed.

Soon after, shots began firing downstairs and we heard Ronald yell as we left the monitor room. "THIS IS NOT A ROBBERY!!" Along with the screams of terror erupting from patrons in the bank. "Get down, damn it! Come on, on the floor, on the floor! IN THE MIDDLE!!!" We heard him scream at people. "And you said we shouldn't bring guns" I grumble at Sam as we paced down the hall.

Two people came running down the hall, terrified. "I didn't know this was gonna happen, Y/N" Sam defended. "Yeah, yeah." Dean huffed, with a roll of his eyes as we dodged people running down the halls. "Just let me do the talking. I don't think he likes you two very much!Agent Johnson and James" Dean sassed us as we peered around the corner to see Ronald holding up a key to the patrons who were sat, terrified on the ground.

"Now there's only one way in or out of here and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, you understand?" Ronald growled at the crowd, holding up the automatic rifle. "Hey, buddy. Now why don't you calm down? Just calm down" Dean said calmly to Ronald, revealing ourselves, our hands up in surrender. His eyes widened with recognition, "What the fuck, you! Get on the floor now!!" Ronald ordered, raising his rifle at us.

Dean offered him a sweet smile but my heart began pounding out of my chest, "Okayy, we're doing that" Dean added, the three of us getting to our knees. "Just don't shoot anybody, especially us" Dean pleaded, pointing to us. "I knew it. As soon as you three left. You ain't FBI. Who are you?!" He shouted at us, his gun pointed at my head. "Who are you working for, huh?! The Men In Black? You working for the mandriod?!" Ronald demanded, Dean's face contorted with disbelief.

Me and Sam let out laughs of frustration and amusement. I'm sorry, I'm trying to be sympathetic here but this is too much man. "We're not working for the mandriod!!" Sam screamed back. "You shut up!!! And you two smiley pants! I ain't talking to either of you. I don't like you two!" Ronald shouted at us. Making our smiles drop. Okay, I deserved that.

Dean gave us a face that said, 'I told you so', "Fair enough, sorry hun" I gulped, offering him an apologetic smile. Ronald clenched his jaw before pointing to a man across the room with his gun, everyone gasped fearfully, "Get over there, frisk em down for weapons. Go!" He ordered the bank manager.

Fuck, I've still got my butterfly knife in my boots.

The man patted Sam down, as I gave Dean a nervous look. The expression on his face meant one thing, he had a weapon on him too. The man parted Dean down to his boots, lifting up his pants leg to reveal his knife. Dean groaned in annoyance at this before the man patted me down, then finding my butterfly knife in my boots. Sam gave us looks of disbelief but we shrugged, "We're not just gon walk in here naked" Dean defended.

"Now what have we here" Ronald said before taking the knives from the man. "Get back down," Ronald ordered him. Our eyes widened when we saw reaching over to toss our knives into the waste paper bin. "No, no, no!" Dean pleaded. "Come on man, not again!!" I yelled in frustration at the fact that I lost yet another knife Dean got me. "We know you don't wanna hurt anybody, but that's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around" Dean tried to persuade him.

"Now why don't you let these people go?" He pleaded, "No! I already told you, if nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I gotta do it myself" Ronald defended loudly, "Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here" I interjected, "You don't believe me, you said it yourself! Nobody believes me! How could they?" Ronald's voice broke at this and my heart shattered. He sounded so terrified yet so determined.

He wanted to stop this thing, granted he had no idea what he's actually going up against. His heart is in the right place, I can't help but feel a bit sorry for the guy. "Come here" Dean whispered to Ronald, ushering him over. "What? Now" Ronald huffed in confusion, shaking his head. "You're holding the gun, boss. You're calling the shots, I just wanna tell you something. Come here" Dean sassed as me and Sam looked at him like he's crazy.

Ronald stepped closer to us, a look of hesitation on his face as he leaned in, "It's the bank manager." Dean whispered to Ronald. "What?" He gasped, "Why do you think we've got these getups? Huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes" Dean further explains, his tone hushed. "His laser eyes?" Ronald leaned in closer, his tone panicked.

"Yes..." Dean nodded before realizing what he said because of the way me and Sam looked at him. "No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay?? We gotta find him before he changes into someone else" Dean yelled urgently, making Ronald back up, "Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar" Ronald growled at him, aiming his gun again at us.

Dean flinched back as a thought crossed my head so I attempted to get up. "I'll shoot you. Get down!!" Ronald shouted at me, my heart was ready to explode as my anxiety went through the roof. Dean tried to pull me back down by my arm as the patrons gasp, Ronald's finger hovering over the trigger but I shrugged his hand off. Giving him a quick wink, hoping he caught my drift. "Take me. Okay? Take me with you as a hostage. But we gotta act fast" I pleaded.

"Are you insane?!" Dean hissed at me through gritted teeth but I waved him off. "Because the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change." I tried to reason but Ronald looked hesitant. "Look at me, hun. I know you don't like me and I'm sorry for telling you all those things. But I believe you, you're not crazy." I said gently, "There really is something inside this bank" I assured him, pointing to the ground. A look of desperation etched on my face.

Sam and Dean looked at me like I was insane as Ronald stood still. Then Ronald looked to the ground, his body beginning to tremble. Sam and Dean looked like they were ready to shit their pants if he actually killed me, but I have an inkling that Ronald didn't have it in him to murder. He may be a little loose, but he doesn't seem to be that much of a loose canon.

God I hope I'm right. ESP thing, work your magic.

"Alright" Ronald breathed out, giving me a small smile. "You come with me" He pointed at me before waving his rifle around to everyone, screams of terror and fearful gasps echoed through the room. "But everyone else, gets in the vault!!" He ordered.

"Come on, move!" Ronald yelled at the patrons, ushering them roughly into the vault. "You lock up" He pointed the rifle at me as Sam and Dean got in lastly. I gave the boys one last look before saying, "It's okay everyone, just stay cool" I said calmly before giving the boys a firm nod, terror and worry etched on their faces as I finally pushed the large metal door in. "Spin that, spin that door" Ronald ordered me, I sighed heavily before spinning the lock, bolting it shit.

As the vault was locked firmly, I heard a few gasps and a scream from inside but tried to ignore it. I took a shaky breath before standing up and looking at Ronald. His hands were clenched so tight around the rifle I thought that he was going to crush it, he was shaking like a leaf.

Third Person POV

She's gonna get herself killed. What the fuck am I gonna do? No, she's smarter than that. Y/N can handle herself. Dean thought to himself as he internally panicked.

His heart was ready to give out as his eyes darted over to his little brother who looked defeated, "Who is that woman?" One of the bank employees asked them fearfully, a twinge of recognition and admiration in her voice. Sam sighed heavily. "She's my sister," Sam muttered. "She is so brave" The woman swooned, causing Dean to roll his eyes at this.

"Brave, dumb, same difference" Dean mumbled which earned himself a smack upside the head from Sam. "Ow, hey!!" He yelled, rubbing the back of his head as his little brother glared at him disapprovingly. The woman and other patrons, mostly women, nodded in agreement, swooning over y/n. "She's an absolute badass," one of the other women gushed.

His heart was on fire. He was so worried that she was gonna get shot or something even worse than dying. A wave of terror and anxiety washed over him, hoping and praying that she was gonna be okay.

Sam's gaze drifted over to Dean, picking up on the way his chest heaved. "Hey, it's okay man" Sam assured him, placing a comforting gentle hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Deep breaths, man. She's gonna be fine. You know she's a fighter" He comforted, patting his big brother's shoulder.

"Thanks, Captain obvious," Dean snapped with a scoff, rolling his eyes at his brother's statement before shoving his hand off of his shoulder. He knew she could handle herself, but it still didn't ease the anxiety he was feeling. "You think I don't know that?" He said sarcastically, rubbing a hand down his face

Y/N took off the jumpsuit she and the boys were wearing earlier, the disguise tossed over her shoulder. Now in a dark brown tank top, and a light brown flannel shirt over it with a pair of washed out jean shorts that she was wearing under her disguise.

Ronald pushed open the door to one of the offices, allowing y/n in after. "Check behind the desk" Y/N instructed him urgently as she made her way over to the private room. Ronald canvassed the room before accidentally slipping on something, falling hard on his back. "Ugh!" Ronald groaned, causing Y/N to rush back in panicked.

Her eyes went wide, covering her nose when she realized what Ronald slipped on behind the desk. He turned to see the shedded slimy skin of the shapeshifter, the squelching of the gunk below him. Ronald let out a loud scream at his discovery, shaking with disgust as he quickly got back up to his feet. "What the hell is that?!?" He yelled disgusted and panicked at Y/N, pointing down at the gunk with his gun.

Y/N then turned to the desk light, shining it on the shedded skin, confirming her suspicion. "Oh, great" She huffed, crouching to the ground as Ronald shook with fear. "When it changed form, it sheds it old skin, so now it could be anybody" Y/N explained to Ronald who was poking at the skin before getting back up. Ronald picked up a shed of skin, sniffing it. "It's so weird" He whispered.

Gagging at the scent, "It's robot skin is so lifelike" He added, dropping the skin back into the pile. "Okay, let's get something straight. It's not a Mandriod" Y/N said to him firmly, "It's a shapeshifter" She revealed to him. "Shapeshifter?" Ronald muttered confused. "Yeah. It's human, more or less. It has human drives." Y/N nodded. "You know? In this case, it's money. But it generates its own skin. It can shape it to match someone else's features. You know, tall, short, male-" She explained but is cut off.

"So i-i-it kills someone and then takes their place?" Ronald asked fearfully. "Kills em or doesn't. I don't think it really matters" She muttered, her eyes landing on a silver letter opening. She then took it up from the desk. "W-what are you doing?" Ronald gasped as she examined the opener. She sighed in relief after realizing it was indeed silver. "Nice," She nodded before turning to Ronald.

"You remember the old werewolf stories? It pretty much came from these guys." She explained, waving the silver opener. "Silver is the only thing I've seen that hurts em" Y/N finished before flipping it, making her way out of the room. "Come on, Ron" Y/N called out to him as he stared at the pile of skin with amazement. Ronald followed behind, an excited smile on his face before locking the door behind him.

________________________________

Cops, SWAT, news vans swarmed outside the bank. Dozens of cars came piling in as swat members filed out of the vans. Locked and loaded with weapons and explosives. Snipers stationed on the roof of the building across from the bank.

Y/N and Ronald were still inside the bank, near the main entrance looking for the shifter when Ronald started laughing out of the sudden. Y/N furrowed her brows at this, "What are you, nuts?" She turned to him as they walked through the bank. "That's just it. I'm not nuts" Ronald laughed happily, "I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real. I mean, I was right. Except for the mandriod thing. Thank you" He stated gratefully.

"Yeah, don't mention it hun" She offered him a tight smile. "And I'm sorry for being so harsh on you, Ron. It was just trying to prevent.." She said apologetically, gesturing around the bank with her hands. "...this" She added. "It's alright, y/n....You seem nicer than I expected" Ronald's face softened. This made y/n smile, "Thanks man" She sighed, before turning to lead him to through the bank when out of the sudden, the power cut, leaving little to no light in the bank.

"Damn it. No, no, no, no, no, noo" She grumbled, panic rising in her chest as she looked around for any source of light. "What? What is it?" Ronald asked fearfully, aiming his gun into the dark bank.

"They cut the power. It's probably their way of saying hi" She stated, grabbing Ronald by his wrist, "Who?" He asked confused. "Cops" She stated as if it's obvious. "The cops?" Ronald gasped, y/n gave him a look of disbelief before letting go of his wrist. "Well you were exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron, I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them" Y/N pointed out.

"Well, I-I didn't think to-" Ronald stuttered, panicking but she quickly cut him off. "Hang on, hang on. Let's just take a breath here for a second, alright?" She said gently, calculating her next move, her eyes scanning the bank. "They probably got us surrounded." She mumbled as Ronald aimed his gun at the door. "They cut the cable to the cameras so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is..." She continued to state their odds, rolling her eyes before turning back to Ronald.

"It's not looking good, Ron" She huffed, turning to lead him to the back but a thump in the background drew their attention causing her ears to perk up. Ronald heard it too, aiming his rifle in the direction of the movement, "Did you hear that?" She whispered to him, her eyes wide. Ronald nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

Back in the vault, a woman fanning herself with a folder since the power was cut and the vault was boiling hot. "Has your sister always been so....um...wonderful?" The woman asked Sam and Dean in a gushing tone, they have now stripped off their own disguises, in their causal wear. Both rolling their eyes in annoyance at the love stricken woman. "I mean...staring down that gun." She leaned in closer to Dean.

He flashed her a tight smile, avoiding eye contact, shifting awkwardly as he stood next to Sam. The gushing woman didn't see his discomfort, and only continued on. "It was hot." She purrated, the woman was clearly not getting this hint. Whispering in his ear as he grimaced, moving back. "And you know, the way she played right into that psychos crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear. I mean, she's like a real....heroine or something"

The woman gushed again, a cheeky smile on her face as she giggled. Sam sideeyed the woman who was inching closer to his brother as Deans brows knitted together.

"Yeah. Yeah" Sam smiled tightly as Dean just glared at the woman. He shifted awkwardly on his seat again, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes darted everywhere but the woman. His patience was getting thin, and he was starting to get annoyed at this woman swooning over y/n.

Sam could sense that Dean was not enjoying the attention this woman was giving him and was about to tell her to back off, when they heard a commotion outside the vault door. The vault door then opened, revealing Y/N with a pistol in her hand. Causing Dean to shoot up from his seat. His eyes immediately met y/ns, holding her gaze for a moment before shifting his eyes away, swallowing hard.

He attempted to fight the urge to march over and inspect her for any other injuries, knowing full well that she wouldn't appreciate being babied but his concern got the best of him. Dean's eyes roamed over y/n, taking in every inch of her body, making sure she was okay. "You good ,sweetheart?" He asked softly, stepping towards her, wanting nothing more than to get her in his arms to make sure she was unharmed.

The woman gasped, "Oh my god! You saved us, you saved us!" She exclaimed with glee, holding onto Sam shoulders as she jumped up and down. "I'm fine, charming" She assured Dean before stating, "Actually. I just found a few more" Y/N said, gesturing to everyone she found in the bank hiding as the woman's smile dropped. "Come on everybody. Let's go, let's go" She said firmly to the patrons.

Ushering them into of the vault, pointing her gun inwards. They filed in as the woman expression deepened with shock, "What are you doing?" She asked Y/N confused. "Fellas? Ronald and I need to talk to you" Y/N said to the boys, they nodded, stepping out of the vault before y/n flashed the shocked woman a cheeky smile, quickly locking the vault again, bolting them in.

"It shedded its skin again. We don't know when. It could be in the halls, it could be in the vault, it could be anyone" She informed the boys, running her hand over her face, wiping away some sweat as Sam and Dean shook their heads at the new information. "Great" Dean huffed sarcastically, "You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police" Sam pointed out with an unamused chuckle. "Yeah" Dean snorted unamused, rubbing his chin.

"So even if we find this damn thing, how the fuck are we gonna get out of here?" Y/N groaned at Sam's very clear point. "I don't know, one problem at a time" Dean grumbled, pacing the room. "Alright, I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place, see if I can find any stragglers. Once we get everybody together, we gotta play a little game of Find-The-Freaks" Y/N stated, taking the initiative lead on the case.

"So, here. I found two more of these for you guys" She handed Sam and Dean two letter openers, one each. "You two stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation" Y/N instructed the boys but of course, Dean protested. "Help him manage?! Are you insane?!" Dean almost shouted as Sam chuckled unamused again.

Y/N flinched back a bit before turning Ronald, flashing him an encouraging wide smile, putting up both her thumbs before winking at him. "Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted" She turned back to the boys, her tone low. "Understatement!" Sam shouted in annoyance. "Alright! But if we invite the cops in right now. Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested" She stated the obvious, gesturing between the three of them.

"The shifter gets away. Probably never find it again, okay?" Y/N pleaded with them, Sam's eyes flickered over to Ronald, giving y/n a look that says, 'See what we have to deal with?!', as he pointed to Ronald who was standing directly in the light the police were flashing inside of the bank as helicopters hovered over the bank. His gun aimed at the light. "Ron! Out of the light!" She instructed him firmly.

Ronald timidly moved away as Dean shook his head, chuckling despite the dire situation. "Seriously?" Sam huffed. "Ron's game plan was a bad plan. I mean, it's bit of a crazy plan but I'm with y/n here" Dean chimed in, "Right now, crazy is the only game in town" He agreed with her. "Thank you" She sighed, "Now stay and watch over him" She instructed them again but of course, once again, Dean protested.

"Absolutely not, you are not gonna go looking for that thing by yourself" He argued back, stepping in front of her as she held back a frustrated sigh, knowing he'd react that way. "Why not?" She asked in an irritated tone, trying to sidestep around him so she could leave but he blocked her again. "It could attack you, you can't take a shifter down by yourself" Dean whisper yelled at her.

"I can handle myself" She hissed to him, trying to not raise her voice. "You need a partner" He argued back, refusing to back down. "I don't need a babysitter" She shot back. "I'm not saying you can't handle yourself" He explained, his voice was quieter now, trying to keep their argument under wraps as Sam watched the two of them silently.

She crossed her arms over her chest standing her ground, "Look sweetie-" Y/N chided, reading to defend herself but Sam cut in. Sam sensing the tension between the two, he interfered before it can escalate, stepping in between them, trying to play peacemaker. "Stop. We don't have time for this right now" He warned, glancing between the two of them.

Both Y/N and Dean continued to glare at each other with tense shoulders. Dean shot him a glare before turning his attention back to y/n who was still standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. "Both of you go, I'll take care of Ron" He assured them with a heavy sigh.

Sam's words snapped both Dean and y/n out of their little stand off, turning their gazes from each other to him. Y/N was ready to argue that she would be fine by herself but stopped at Sam's look, knowing he's right that there's no time to waste. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders and nodded her head. "Fine" She huffed as she shot a brief glare at Dean, both leaving Sam with Ronald alone.

Sam turned to Ronald who had a bit of a standoffish look on his face directed to Sam, "Hi Ronald" Sam said timidly with a bit of annoyance. Ronald's face softened before looking away.

Dean and Y/N tiptoed their way down the halls, flashing their lights through the dark room. "So, are we gonna address the elephant in the room?" Dean muttered to her as they creeped down the hall, referring to the fact that they almost kissed last night. Y/N was quiet for a moment as she swallowed hard. She knew what he was talking about.

It's not like they could just act like that never happened. But neither of them was ready to confront that almost-kiss. The memory flashed through her mind as she fought the urge to shiver at the memory of the way she was caged against the dresser. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a long, steady breath.

Y/N covered it up with a roll of her eyes, continuing to scan the room for the shifter. "That's not the most important thing to be focusing on right now, Dean" she whispered back to him with a scoff, her eyes flicking to him. She knew what he was referring to, and she knew he would bring it up sooner or later. That moment between them the night before was playing over and over in her head like a broken record.

"We are quite literally in the middle of a shit storm and you want to talk about the thing we did or almost did in a panic-stricken moment?" She added bitterly, keeping her eyes focused on the room as she tried to ignore the tension bubbling between them. Dean huffed a laugh, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He knew she'd pull the whole 'we're in a bad situation' card, of course. She was right but it's better now than never.

It's not news that she'd try to avoid the topic of their almost kiss as best as she could or avoid confrontations in general. He opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by the distinct sounds of thumping in a room down the hall. Both hunters instinctively raised their weapons, glancing to each other as it grew louder, Dean snatched Y/N by her waist swiftly, pressing them both to the wall.

One hand over her mouth covering it, as the blue and red police lights flashed through the windows, sirens blurring. They stood hidden behind the wall, holding their breaths as the lights passed by the windows, casting strange shadows on their faces. She stood pressed up against his firm body, her back against his chest as she could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

Dean could feel hers practically pumping out of her chest. She wanted to pull away, to put some space between them, but his large hand held her in place, his body holding her pinned against him. The scent of him filled her nostrils, the smell of leather, spice, and musk.

Not the time, not the time! Y/N internally shouted at herself.

Prying away from Dean, they two shared a heated look before breaking their gaze, crouching to insure the police couldn't see their shadows from the outside. The thump inside the room went again, but this time louder. Both gulping as they inched towards the door.

Back inside the vault, the patrons were growing irritated and more hot inside the crammed sweat box. All huffing and puffing from the heat, unbuttoning their shirts, stripping off articles of clothing as Sam reopened the vault door. "I'm gonna keep this open, get you folks some fresh air in there. Alright?" Sam said sympathetically to them. "But no one leaves this vault" He added firmly, then out of the sudden. The wall phone rings, startling Ronald.

He aimed his gun in panic at the ringing phone, eyes wide. "I don't understand, why are you helping them?" The woman who was gushing of y/n earlier asked Sam, her tone pained. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" Sam said softly as Ronald took up the phone, answering it. "H-hello?" Ronald says shakily into the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"I think I gotta get outta here!" Henry, security guard from earlier, gasps alert, sweating profusely as he pants heavily. "Sir, I'm very sorry but you're just gonna have to stay put. Alright?" Sam said firmly to him, his head darting over to Ronald who was on the phone. "What- What do you mean demands?" Ronald said confused into the phone. "Ron!" Sam gritted his teeth at Ronald. "Hang up" He ordered him in a hushed tone. "No, I-I-I'm not a bank robber. I-I-"

"I gotta really get out of here" Henry pleaded, panting as he fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "Sir, you can't leave" Sam stressed. "I'm kind of a crime fighter I guess" Ronald chuckled as Sam looked at him exasperated, "Ronald!" Sam bellowed as other patrons tried to help Henry, "Okay, Henry just breathe. Just breathe" A woman said panicked as Henry gasped for air, two men helping him up.

Sam was conflicted on what to do, "Look-" He attempted to help the man but Ronald kept talking. "No, I'm acting alone" Sam huffed at this and snatched the phone away from Ronald, hanging it up on the wall. "Ronald..the less the cops know, the better" Sam sighed heavily, already fed up of babysitting. "Hey! I think this dudes having a heart attack!" A man alerted Sam, holding up Henry who was screaming in pain, clutching his chest. "We need a doctor!" A woman screamed.

"Great. Could be our guy, could be a trick" Sam groaned frustrated, "What? You just gonna let the man die?!" A man shouted at Sam who rolled his eyes as Henry screamed. "No one's dying in here!" Sam shouted back, "Cover the door" He ordered Ronald before snatching the phone back up, pressing it to his ear.

Dean and Y/N ended up in the panel room, looking for any way to get the power back up and running. This lights shining through the caged panels.

"Can you tell me how many hostages this guys taken?" The officer asked over the phone, "Look. One of the people in here could be having heart trouble. You need to send in a paramedic" Sam said urgently. "Just stay calm sit, we'll have you folks outt-" The officer said calmly but Sam became fed up, "Just send in a paramedic, okay!? And don't try anything else. Please!" Sam shouted angrily.

"Paramedic? Guy don't have time for that man!" The man helping Henry grunted as Sam hung the phone up. "Listen, I-I'm sorry. Okay? I am. But nobody's getting out" Ronald said apologetically. "He's dying right infront of you." The man growled, making Ronald's heart sink with guilt. "Help.." Henry panted.

Y/N shone her flashlight up to the ceiling, she noticed one of the wooden tiles above seemed out of place. She nudged Dean gently, nodding her head towards the ceiling. "You see that too?" She whispered, "Yeah...one sec" Dean agreed, scanning the room for a long object. His eyes landed on a coat rack, he quickly picked it up before taking it and poking it at the ceiling.

Within seconds, the ceiling caved in. Y/N tackled Dean instinctively out of the way as the thud of a dead body hit the ground. Once the dust settled and coughing fit subsided, Y/N sat up, quickly checking Dean for any injuries. "You okay, charming?" She asked him gently, her voice filled with concern as she wiped away the dust that had gathered on his face.

The wooden tiles collapsed, sending a small cloud of dust wafting through the air. "I'm fine," he reassured her once more, his tone firm but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He appreciated her concern and the tender way she wiped the dust from his face. Her gentle touch felt like a comforting touch.

He quickly snapped out of it when she turned and flashed her light on the body. Her eyes widened along with Dean's, they slowly made their way over to the man. Turning him over to see a slit across his throat, "Son of a bitch" "Jesus Christ" The cursed simultaneously when they realized this was one of the patrons from the vault. The same man who was helping Henry. Dean and Y/N exchanged horrified glances as they confirmed the identity of the body.

"Come on, man. You gotta unlock the front door. We gotta get him outta here" The shifter holding up Henry tried to coax Ronald into letting them out to make his escape, but he aimed his gun at them, erupting screams from other patrons. "Both of you, stay where you are!" Ronald bellowed as Dean and Y/N called Sam over.

The two quietly informed the younger Winchester of their horrific discovery. Informing him that the shifter was the man helping Henry. Sam nodded firmly before interjecting. "You know, Ronald. He's right. We gotta get this man outside. Come on" Sam said calmly, taking over helping Henry. "Yeah. I'll help you" Sampson, the shifter, said but Sam shook his head.

"Oh, I got him. It's cool. Thanks" Sam denied any help, holding up a wailing Henry. "Thank you. Thank you." Henry sobbed gratefully as Sam carried him out. "Just watch your step. Sure" Sam said gently as he walked him out, groaning in pain from his chest. Dean and Y/N's eyes were narrowed at Sampson. "Hey, can we talk to you for a second?" Y/N coaxed Sampson over with a wave a crooked finger.

He smirked, walking over to them. "You got the gun, mama. Whatever." He shrugged, his eyes darkened before right hooking Y/N across her face off guard. Y/N stumbled back, clutching her cheek in shock and pain. Her eyes watering from the blow. Dean's eyes widened in shock and anger as Sampson sucker punched Y/N. He backhanded Dean who was charging at him and tossed Dean into the metal vault door head first.

Landing on the floor with a grunt, Dean's vision blurred as he held his head. Ronald attempted to shoot the shifter but with a kick, he sent Ronald flying into the wall. Y/N jumped onto the shifters back, attempted to stab him with the silver letter opener, only for him to back into the wall. Y/N cried out in pain from the impact, dropping the opener. Sampson threw her off of him, and she grunted loudly when her back hit the floor.

Dean tried to stand, his head still spinning from the impact, but the shifter kicked him, sending him reeling to the floor once more. Giving him a chance to escape, the shifter bolted, taking advantage of the moment, he quickly ran out of the vault. "Fuck," Dean cursed under his breath, scrambling to his feet after regaining his senses. He helped Y/N up from the ground, his concern for her well-being overshadowing any anger towards the shifter's escape.

"Stop, come back here!!" Ronald screamed, scrambling to pick up his gun and up to his feet, running after the shifter after witnessing the whole fight.

"You alright, sweetheart?" He asked Y/N, his eyes scanning her face for any serious injuries. He gently brushed aside the stray strands of hair that stuck to her forehead from the impact. She nodded weakly, her hand gingerly touching her bruised and stinging cheek where Sampson hit her. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered, though the pain in her voice and the tear streaks on her face told a different story.

Sam who was helping Henry out and away from the light heard Ronald screamed, he ended up going into the light as the shifter ran away. Sam's eyes widened when he spotted the red sniper laser on Ronald's back, "GET DOWN, RON!!!" Sam shouted at the top of his lungs, but it was too late. The sniper had shot Ron through and through his back, the bullet exiting through chest, over his heart.

Dean quickly grappled Y/N upon hearing the shot fly through the glass window. Clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream before pulling behind a counter, away from the light to hide from any stray bullets. Deans heart panged with guilt as Y/N's muffled sobs went into the palm of his hand as Ronald's knees hit the ground, his gun slipping from his grip. Slumping dead onto the hard floor.

Patrons from the still opened vault came file out, their whispers hushed and terrified as they seek shelter, Sam creeped around the corner after helping Henry to safety, crouching behind the counter next to Dean and Y/N, pressing his back to the hard surface. Dean still had his arms wrapped around Y/N, her back pressed to his chest, settled between his legs. Both their faces stoic as they look on at the flashing red laser, still hovering over Ronald's dead body.

All breathing heavy, guilt coursing through them after seeing Ronald killed in cold blood. "Here, take care of the guard. Im going after the shifter" Sam told them in a hoarse tone, before they could protest. He had already gotten up and ran in the direction that he saw the shifter went. Dean and Y/N's eyes were trained on Ronald, both taking a deep breath before creeping a bit closer to his body.

Away from the light, in attempt to get his gun. "Sorry Ron" Y/N croaked, paying her respects. "You did a real good job tracking this thing. You really did" Dean added sincerely. They both share a sorrow filled look before Y/N reached over and slid his gun towards her. Handing it to Dean. They both gave Ron one last look, the image of his blood pooling around his body and the leaking from his mouth, forever etched in their brains.

Sam was canvassing room, on edge as he tiptoed towards a door. Throwing it open with a rough motion, a flashlight in one hand and the silver letter opener in his other. The light shone in to show the janitor's closet was empty, Sam spun around, startled to see two women and one man. He wielded his knife to stab, holding back when he saw the three patrons with terrified screams leaving their throats.

"Oh! Please don't hurt us! Please don't hurt us!" The woman begged, clutching onto her friend. "You shouldn't be back here right now! You're in danger. Now go back to the vault. Now!!" Sam shouted at them like a disappointed parent, pointing in the direction of the vault. The three patrons scrambled towards the vault as Sam let out a heavy sigh.

Dean and Y/N were approaching the door with Henry, Y/N pressing her letter opener to Henry's back while Dean strapped Ronald's gun around him. "This will all be over soon" Y/N assured him softly. "Everything is gonna be all right" Dean added as Henry pushed the door open, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!" Henry pleaded with the swarm of officers, guns aimed at him and the hunters.

There were so many cops that they lost count of how many there were. The police lights were like a strobe light that was blinding everyone. Henry's hands up in surrender, "No, no, no, no, back up!" Dean shouted, using Henry as a shield, "Don't even think about it!" Y/N shouted along with Dean, doing the same as him. Police lights and bright white light shone of them as the lasers from the snipers pointed at Henry. Their eyes widened when they saw how much cops and reinforcements were really out here.

"Son of a fucking bitch" "Jesus fucking Christ" Dean and Y/N cursed in unison. "We said, get back, now!!!" Dean bellowed, "Don't think about it bub!!" Y/N growled at an officer who had his laser aimed at her head, her eyes wild. The officer immediately aimed away before she crouched behind her Henry.

"Okay, hun. Go, go" Y/N ushered Henry gently into the officers hands before she and Dean made a break for the door, swiftly relatching with the chains Ronald put on. "We are so screwed" Dean muttered frustrated as they locked themselves in. "Amen, brother" Y/N muttered back, equally as frustrated.

Sam was crouched infront of a pile of skin, grimacing as he pressed his phone to his ear, calling Y/N.

Y/N, who was walking down the stairs to the basement with Dean, her phone rang, Metallica blasting through the empty hallway. "Yeah?" She answered, putting the phone on speaker. "He slipped his skin" Sam informed them. "What?!" Dean and Y/N exclaimed in unison. "Yeah, bastard shifts fast. A lot faster than the one in St. Louis" Sam groaned. "Fuck, it's like playing a shell game. It could be anybody, again!" Dean grumbled.

"I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now" Sam told them. "Alright, you search every inch of this place. Me and Dean are gonna go round everybody up" Y/N instructed Sam, making sure Dean was okay with that. He gave her a firm nod before she hung up.

________________________________

Meanwhile outside, Lieutenant Robards, the officer in charge of everything was in the van sipping coffee while his partner groaned, "Fuck" His partner groaned. "What?" Robards asked, "The feds are here" He informed his superior as the FBI vans pulled into the already crowded street. He stopped mid sip, "Oh, fuck" Robards huffed as the door to their surveillance van opened.

In walked two FBI agents, "Lieutenant Robards" Victor Henriksen greeted them. "Yeah" Robards rolled his eyes. "Special Agent Henriksen" Henriksen offered the Lieutenant a handshake. "Let me guess. You're the lead dog now, but you'd love my full cooperation" Robards snarked, earning a cocky smirk from Henriksen. "I don't give a rats ass what you do. You can go get a doughnut and bang your wife, for all I care" Henriksen sassed.

Robards smirk dropped at the rebuttal, "What I do need is your SWAT team, locked and loaded" Henriksen ordered firmly. "Listen, agent" Robards snapped, "Something's not right about this. It's um-...It's not going down like a usual heist" Robards tried to explain. "That's because it isn't a one." Henriksen retorted, this led Robards to become confused.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, do you? There's a monster in that bank, Robards." Henriksen argued.

Meanwhile, Sam was downstairs still searching for the shifter, his light shining through the dark hall. He threw open only to stumble into another broom closet.

Dean and Y/N were escorting patrons that tried to escape, back into the vault to keep them safe from the shifter. "And I thought you were one of the good ones" The woman who was swooning over Y/N earlier scoffed. She sighed heavily, "What's your name, hun?" Y/N asked her gently. "Why would you care?" She rolled her eyes. "My name is Y/N and this is Dean." Y/N introduced them kindly.

"I'm Sherri" Sherri responded, her arms crossed over her chest. "Hi, Sherri" Y/N offered Sherri a sweet smile, the two woman shared a heated gaze as Dean looked between them. His eyes shifting back and forth, their eye contact is interrupted when the wall phone rang again. "Everything is gonna be alright. This will all be over soon, okay?" Dean assured Sherri.

They both left the vault, Dean locking the door inwards while Y/N answered the phone. "Yeah?" Y/N answered harshly with an eyeroll. Dean pressed his ear to the back of the phone, his stubble gently brushing over Y/N's cheek. "This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen" Henriksen said roughly. "Yeah, listen. We're not really in a negotiating mood. Right now, so-" Dean sassed, only to get cut off by Victor.

"Good, me neither. It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary." Victor retorted. "Woah. That's kinda harsh for a federal agent, don't you think?" Y/N muttered, both surprised by Victors harsh tone. "Well, neither do you are the typical suspect, are you, Dean?" Victor snarked, their stomachs dropped at Dean getting recognized. Both now internally panicking.

"I want you, Sam and Y/N out here, unarmed. Or we come in." Victor ordered in a warning tone before adding, "And yes, I know about Sam too. The Sundance to your Butch, and I know about you too Y/N. The Bonnie to Dean's Clyde....Or is it Sam's? I don't know. Don't care." He added in a jeering tone. Dean and Y/N shared a panicked look at this, "Yeah, well that parts true. But how'd you know even we were here?" Dean chimed, looking around warily along with Y/N.

"Go fuck yourself. That's how I knew" Victor scoffed, their brows shot up at this. "It's become my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, I know the Houdini act you guys pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecration and the thefts. I know about the assault charges." Victor listed off all of their previous offense.

"I know about your fathers" Victor added, this made their eyes widened with fury, "You don't know shit about that" Y/N gritted her teeth, her nostrils glaring. "John Winchester, Ex-Marine. F/N L/N, not much on him but I know they both raised their kids on the road. Cheap motels, backwoods cabin. Real paramilitary survivalist types." Victor continued to poke at them.

Tears welled in both their eyes, swallowing the lumps in their throats. "I just can't get a hand on what type of wackos they were. White Supremacist, Timmy McVeigh. Tomato, tomato" He added, "You got no fucking right talking about our dads like that. They were heroes" Dean defended, his nostrils flaring as he ran his tongue over his top teeth. Y/N's hand clutching around the phone tightly.

"Yeah. Right. Sure sounds like it. You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors, full automatic" Victor gave them one last warning before hanging up. Dean shook with anger as Y/N screamed, throwing the landline against the wall, not bothering to place it properly.

________________________________

Sam was still searching the bank, his eyes darted around the room as he shone his light. Blood drippings on the floor, in-front of a closet caught his eye. He slowly tiptoed over to the closet the blood was dripping from before quickly pulling it open, only for a dead body with its throat slit and stripped naked to come tumbling out. The dead body of Sherri. "Fuck" Sam cursed frustrated.

"Hey" Sam said to Dean and Y/N who were still by the vault as he approached. Both looking troubled, "Hey" They breathe out in unison. "We got a bit of a problem outside" Dean said urgently, "We got a problem in here" Sam scoffed ironically, pointing to the vault door. They both tilted their head in confusion.

The door to the vault opened, startling everyone. "Sherri. We're gonna let you go" Y/N said urgently, "What? Why me?" She asked confused as the other patrons whispered, "Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds. Come on" Dean came up with the first lie on spot. Sherri looked hesitant and scared, "Uh....I think I'd- I'd rather stay here with the others" Sherri stuttered, backing away from them.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to insist" Y/N said a bit more standoffish, stepping closer to Sherri. Her eyes flickered over to the silver letter opener in Sam's hand, a fearful look on her face as Y/N extended her hand to Sherri. Dean and Y/N offered her tight smiles as she slowly walked past them.

Y/N held Sherri by her hair roughly, pushing her into the room where the body was. "I thought you were letting me go!" Sherri yelped, whining a from the pain of Y/N yanking at her roots. Y/N rolled her eyes and held her, pushing her face right over the body. Sherri let out a piercing convincing scream as she looked at her own body, throat slit and naked on the ground.

Deans brows pumped at this as Sherri shrieked terrified, trying to rip away from Y/N's grips, only to run straight into Sam's broad body. The younger Winchester gripped a terrified Sherri into a headlock. "What is that community theater or are you just naturally like this?" Dean snarked, an amused grim on his face. Thinking Sherri was faking. "This is the last time you ever become anyone. Ever." Sam growled at her, wielding his silver letter opener, ready to stab her.

"No! No, oh god....oh..." Sherri pleaded before falling unconscious due to shock. The three hunters remained stunned and confused when Sherri fell to the ground unconscious with a hard thud, all looking at each other confused. Dean shrugged, before handing Y/N the automatic weapon, kneeling besides Sherri. Sam and Y/N exchanged a look at this, contemplating why the shifter would give up its body so quick to keep up a facade.

Dean held the letter opener above his head, ready to stab hers. "Dean, wait, wait, wait" Sam stopped his brother, earning a confused look from the elder Winchester. "What's the advantage of this plan?" Sam questioned in a low tone, "He's got a point, man. I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive." Y/N whispered.

Dean realized they had a good point, all their heads turned to the other 'Sherri' that was stripped naked across the room. "Huh..." Dean hummed before walking across to 'Sherri's' body with the slit throat, kneeling besides her, examining her. The sound of a window shattering in the background caught their attention. Their heads snapping in the direction of the sound.

Eyes wide in the direction. Without their knowledge, the real shifter, who was now posing as a dead Sherri, gripped Dean by his throat by surprise, earning a grunt from the hunter. The real Sherri came to, screaming, "Oh God! Oh god!" Sam grabbed her along with Y/N while Dean tried to stab the shifter, only for the creature to defend itself, catching his hand mid air before he could finish the job.

"Get her out of here. Now!" Dean ordered Sam and Y/N. Both hesitating to leave but they listened to him, escorting Sherri out of the room quickly.

SWAT team members came piling into the bank, all armed and loaded. They canvassed the bank, almost catching Dean in the basement but the skilled hunter quickly hide in a corner.

Three more SWAT members came filing down the hall, stumbling upon a shaken Sherri in at the end of it. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot!" She pleaded, their lights flashed on her. "I work here. I work here" She sobbed.

Meanwhile on the other side of the back, bent the corner, Sam and Y/N pretending to run from the SWAT members. "Freeze!" The officer yelled at them. They two hunters froze, "Let me see your hands. Let me see your hands!" The officer ordered them. The two shared a look knowing look, a silent conversation exchanging between both of their eyes before giving each other a firm nod.

Both hunters swiftly grappling the guns of the two members, right hooking them simultaneously off guard before knocking them out. They heard the footsteps of one more officer trudging down the hall. Sam and Y/N pressed themselves against the wall, then once the officer was in slight, Y/N charged at him, kicking the back of his knee to knock him to his feet, falling to the ground with a grunt.

While Sam quickly knocked him unconscious with the butt on the gun he snatched from the previous officer. The two dragged the three members into a closet before stripping them of their uniform, armory and headgear.

After Sam and Y/N changed into the gear they had stolen, they headed stayed covered, pretending to be SWAT as they looked for Dean. Both silently praying they would find him first.

They finally ended up in the electrical room to see Dean kneeling next to a dead shifter, both breathing out in relief at the fact he successfully took down the bastard. Sam then flashed the light in Dean's face, startling him. A fearful and defeated look on his face, thinking he had gotten caught and was as good as gone. "Dean Winchester. You're under arrest for being an A-Class jackass" Sam snorted through the mask.

Dean let out a groan as he rolled his eyes as he got up from the ground. "Not funny, man" Dean grumbled. Y/N giggled amused, tossing a bag she stole from one of the officers that previously had armory inside, now stuffed with an extra suit. She tossed it as his feet, "Saddle up cowboy, we gotta go now" She said urgently.

________________________________

SWAT was still canvassing the bank,

"Clear in here!"

"Clear. Move!"

"Clear!"

"Clear. Move!"

Victor Henriksen strolled down the halls to see a group of officers examining Sampson's dead naked body. "Male. African-American. Goner" The officer informed Henriksen who gritted his teeth.

While downstairs in the electrical room, officers stood over the shifters dead body, which was still in Sherri's form. "I'm telling you, man. I just walked her out of the bank" The SWAT officer told his partner. "She must have a twin sister or something" He added bewildered.

Back upstairs, Victor was getting irritated they had yet to find Sam, Dean and Y/N. "Sir, my team said it's secure. They're gone" An officer informed the agent. "You tell your team to tear it apart! The ducts, the ceilings, the furnace, everything!" Henriksen growled infuriated. "I don't think that's necessary" The officer insisted. "Why not?!" Victor snapped, turning to him. "

The officer then told Victor to come with him, ushering him to the room where Sam and Y/N had stashed the unconscious, stripped but very alive bodies of the three SWAT members they took down and stole their gear from. Henriksen grunted in frustration. Realllyyy getting to hate these flannel wearing bastards.

________________________________

Sam, Dean and Y/N made way back up to the above ground parking garage where Baby was parked, all still in the SWAT gear. Dean opened his door, hopping into the drivers side while Y/N climbed in the back and Sam claimed shotgun. All hunters took off the headgear with a grunt before peeling off the black under face mask. They let out sighs, breathing heavily as they contemplated what was going on and how they were gonna get out of this.

"We are so fucked" Y/N commented the obvious.

Before leaning back into the backseat. Dean hugged in agreement as Sam remained silent, clenching his jaw before Dean started his car, putting her in drive and speeding out of the parking garage.

________________________________

Sam's POV (SURPRISE BITCHES!!)

Aurora, New York

•The Next Day

I sat in the Impala parked in front of a small diner, the neon sign casting a warm glow over the parking lot. I was alone, sitting in the dark car, the food Dean sent me for was waiting in the back seat getting cold as people came and went of the dingy old diner. We all hauled ass out of Wisconsin and are now hiding out in Y/N's New York safehouse.

I swear, I'll never know where her family got the money to have all these damn safe houses but thank God indeed.

My thumb hovered over Jo's contact on his phone, the image of her warm smile flashing in mind. My heart ached as I remembered our last conversation, the way she had looked into my eyes. Jo was beyond pissed at all of us, pure betrayal and hatred in her eyes. I've been in this position countless times and all I wanted to do was hear from her.

She's been on my mind quite a bit, and if I'm being honest. I felt a little like a second option, not sure if she even wanted to hear from me. She was flirting with my brother first, but that hunt when she got kidnapped by Holmes. I thought I was going crazy not knowing where she was.

I took a deep breath and scrolled down to her name, my finger hesitating for a moment before finally hitting the call button. The line rang once, twice, three times, and my heart beat faster with each subsequent ring. My mind raced, wondering if she would answer or not. The silence on the other end was deafening, only interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing.

But then, her voicemail picked up, and I felt a pang of disappointment mixed with worry. I listened to the familiar sound of her voice recording, telling me to leave a message. My heart sank at that moment, but I forced myself to keep it together. "Hey, Jo," I started, my voice a mix of frustration and concern.

"It's me, Sam," I continued, trying to keep my tone casual. "I really need to talk to you. Please, just...just call me back, okay?"

I waited for a moment, hoping that she would pick up, but the line remained silent. I hung up the phone, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. I knew it was a long shot to hope that she would answer, but the thought of not hearing from her was almost unbearable.

I decided to say screw it and head on over to the grocery to pick up supplies for the safehouse.

Halfway into my ride over, my phone rang. Startling the crap out of me. I flinched as my phone suddenly rang, the sound unexpected and loud in the quiet car. I fumbled for a moment before managing to grab it, my heart rate picking up a bit.

The caller ID showed Jo's name on the screen, and I felt a mixture of relief and nervousness wash over me. I quickly answered the call, holding the phone to my ear, quickly pulling over to the side of the road.

"Jo, thank god," I breathed out, relief flooding my voice. "I didn't think you were going to answer." There was a moment of silence on the other end, and I could sense her hesitating. But then she spoke, her voice a mix of irritation and frustration.

"What do you want, Winchester?" Jo asked, the edge in her voice was evident. "Didn't you get the hint that I didn't want to talk to any of you?" I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Look, I know you're pissed at us, and you have every right to be," I said, trying to keep my cool. "But I'm still your...friend. And I'm worried about you" I swallowed my pride, praying she didn't think I was just some desperate loser.

There was another pause on the line, and then I heard Jo let out an exasperated sigh. "Friend," she repeated sarcastically, her voice dripping with annoyance. "More like a pain in my ass" I felt a pang of hurt at her words, but I knew I had to keep myself together. "Okay, fine," I retorted, feeling my own irritation rising. A sly comment came flooding out of my mouth before I could stop it,

"But...you always did have a nice ass" I chuckled deeply, quite literally facepalming myself after it shot out of my mouth.

God I sound like Dean right now.

I could've sworn I heard Jo giggle. "Wow, smooth move, Winchester," Jo retorted, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "I swear you and your brother are identical sometimes." I chuckle as I lean back against my car, feeling a small sense of relief that she wasn't completely shutting me out yet.

"Believe me when I say, that's far from the truth" I snorted, shaking my head. My amusement died down subsequently, "So...how have you been Jo?" My tone was gentle and concerned. There was another moment of pause on the line, and I heard Jo let out a heavy sigh. "I've been okay," she said quietly. "Hoping to just keep moving, y'know?"

I could sense the exhaustion and frustration in her voice, and I realized that she was putting up a strong front. "Ash called Y/N and told her he hadn't heard from you in a while. She told him she hasn't heard from you since then....but you've been on my mind quite a bit" I admit, cursing myself for being such a softie.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and I could picture Jo's eyebrows raising in surprise at my confession. "Really?" She asked, her tone curious now. "You've been thinking about me, huh?" She said softly.

Jo's next words caught me off guard, and my heart skipped a beat. "You know," she began, her voice taking on a mischievous tone. "I've been thinking about you too, Sam"

My eyes widened in surprise, not expecting her to reciprocate my confession. I couldn't believe what I was hearing "You...you have?" I asked, my voice betraying my surprise. "Yeah, I have," Jo replied, her tone amused. "I mean, you're not so bad, Sam. Although you could definitely use some work in the smoothness department" she teased, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

I huffed a chuckle at getting called out for my lack in charisma, but it amused me coming from her. "Yeah. Thanks" I retorted with sarcasm. I could practically hear the eye roll in her voice as she responded, "You're welcome."

There was another moment of silence between us, but this time it was more comfortable, almost lighthearted. I could feel a warmth spreading through my chest at the realization that she had been thinking about me too.

"You know," Jo piped up after a moment, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "If you're that worried about me, you could just come check on me yourself" My brows shot up at this, a sly smirk making its way to my face, "You know, if I didn't know any better. I'd say you're hitting on me Ms. Harvelle" I quipped with sass, intrigued by her abrupt invitation.

Jo chuckled on the other end of the line, clearly enjoying my playfulness. "Maybe I am, Mr. Winchester," she replied, her voice taking on a flirty tone. "You got a problem with that? Or should I just go back to hating you?"

"Nono, carry on," I laughed. Jo's laughter joined mine, and I could practically picture her wicked smile. "Glad to hear it," she teased. Her invitation still hung in the air, "So...should I take that as a yes to you coming to check on me?" She asked, sounding a bit...hopeful? But I could be mistaken.

I took a deep breath, slightly hesitant. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel guilty here. Jess has been dead almost two years now, yet the wounds are still fresh. I felt like like I was betraying her memory. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth. Jess wouldn't have wanted me to wallow in grief for the rest of my life. She would've wanted me to be happy, to move on and find peace. But knowing Jessica, she would've pushed me to move on. It's hard regardless.

I contemplated Jo's offer before nodding, "Yeah, text me your current address. I'll convince Dean and Y/N to take the trip with me, which I'm sure wouldn't be hard" There was a pause, and I could sense Jo's hesitation, understanding the complexity of her situation. But then she spoke up again, her voice firm yet gentile.

"Okay," she agreed, and I picked up on a glimmer of excitement in her tone. "I'll text you my address. You guys better come see me soon, or I'll come and hunt you down myself." I chuckled in response, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. "We'll be there as soon as we can," I promised.

We concluded the call, and I was left feeling a strange mix of emotions. There was excitement at the prospect of seeing Jo again. Yet I also felt a pang of guilt, thinking about Jess. I knew I shouldn't feel guilty for moving on and finding comfort in someone else. However, it was difficult to shake off the sense of betrayal in regards to Jess. But then again, I knew deep down that Jess would've wanted me to be happy.

________________________________

Third Person POV

•One Hour Earlier

"We need to talk about it, Y/N" Dean presses as they toss open the door to her safehouse. It was low on supplies since they hadn't been here in a while so Dean made Sam take the Impala, shunning him away to get food and supplies so he can have the dreaded conversation with Y/N.

"Talk about what?" Y/N feigns confusion as she rested her duffle bag down on the dusty couch a tad bit harshly, coughing slightly from the dust that raised when she tossed it.

Dean huffed in annoyance, closing the motel door gently and folding his arms over his chest. "Y/N, you know what I'm talkin' about," he drawled, tilting his head, eyebrows raising slightly.

Y/N sighed, refusing to face him. "There's nothing to talk about," She grumbled. "Not buying it," Dean quipped, taking a few steps closer towards her. He was still a good distance away, giving Y/N her personal space he knew how grumpy she could get when annoyed.

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" She huffed, turning to face him. "The truth," Dean replied without hesitation, his jaw set in a firm line. "I want the truth," he repeated, softer this time. He could see the emotions battling on her face, he didn't like that she was trying to act like nothing happened.

Y/N swallowed harshly, "The truth is.... I'm glad it didn't happen" She bit back. "Because you've said it yourself, that 'it doesn't mean anything', so. I'm glad it didn't happen" She added, referring to when he slipped and called her 'his girl' only to claim after that 'it didn't mean anything'.

A flash of guilt filled his eyes, something Dean tried his best to ignore, but he failed, he always failed with Y/N. Her words had stung and he deserved it. Dean wanted to punch himself in the face, he could see the way her shoulders slumped forward as she said it.

"Y/N..." he sighed, his shoulders slumping forward as his arms fell to his sides, hands curling into fists as he fumbled to explain or defend himself.

"It's fine, honestly. I'm not gonna let unreciprocated feelings get in the way of our friendship" She said softly. Meaning that she had feelings for Dean and she thought he didn't feel the same way and that she would rather it not ruin their friendship.

But Dean took it in a completelyyyy different way, assuming Y/N meant that she didn't feel the way that he did for her, leaving him to believe, she was rejecting him on the spot.

"Oh-"

Oh...

Dean's face fell, his heart sinking down to his stomach as he slowly turned his gaze to her, blinking once in processing her words. As lame as it sounds, he felt as if God himself had driven a knife into his heart and tore it out of his chest.

"Oh..." he repeated lamely, his heart beating faster in his chest, pounding violently against his rib cage.

The realization made his stomach twist in a painful way and he inhaled swiftly, trying to rid himself of the pang he felt deep within him. Dean's brain was screaming at him to fix the conversation, his heart was aching at the confirmed fact that Y/N did not feel the same way.

"Right... yeah..." he muttered, taking a slow step back, feeling as though he had just been punched in the stomach.

"Yeah..." Y/N gulped, her heart pang terribly in her chest. Tearing her eyes away from Dean, she had hoped, prayed he would say, 'No princess, that's not true. I love you too' but those words didn't come. She should've known better. As if, 'It didn't mean anything' wasn't blatantly clear enough.

Dean watched as Y/N looked away, trying to avoid the intensity of his own gaze. He could see the pain etched into her features and it only made him feel worse.

He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but his arms remained by his sides, his fingers twitching, wanting to hold her. The words were on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't bring himself to confess the truth. He had practically been rejected in his eyes by her words of 'I'm not gonna let unreciprocated feelings get in the way of our friendship'. That was enough rejection for him.

"It won't happen again," Dean muttered, his voice low and almost shaky as he spoke. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, the pain in his chest refusing to subside. He didn't want her to see how she was affecting him.

Dean's eyes flicked over her features once more, taking in the way her eyelashes fluttered and the way her hair fell to frame her face, his body aching to reach out and touch her. But he remained still, his hands clenched at his sides.

Y/N's heart tightened in her chest at Dean's words. 'It won't happen again.' The phrase seemed to echo in the room, deafeningly loud, mocking her. She felt her eyes sting with tears, but she refused to let herself cry.

She bit the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to keep them from spilling over. 'No, show no weakness, show no fear, don't let him know it affected you' Instead, she forced a small nod, her eyes still avoiding his intense gaze. "Yeah, it won't," she repeated quietly.

Dean nodded slowly in agreement, his eyes still locked on her. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he had no right to. As far as she knew, his feelings for her weren't reciprocated. And he had no idea that she believed the same.

Y/N shook her head before turning to dig into her duffle bag, pulling out her pack of cigarettes, "I'm gonna take a smoke..." She forced a casual tone as she strode over to the front door, locking it behind her.

Dean stood silently for a few moments, watching as her figure disappeared through the door, the house suddenly feeling smaller and quieter now that she was gone.

The hunter exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face, his mind racing with confusion and denial. He sank down onto the edge of one of the couches, his elbows resting on his knees as he hunched forward, lost in thought.

He had always prided himself on being confident and in control, but right now, he felt anything but. The words she had said replayed over and over in his mind, making him question everything he knew, everything he believed.

She doesn't feel the same.

The thought alone made his heart ache with a pain he had never felt before.

Dean forced himself to go over to the window, he peeled the curtain back to see Y/N head across the street to sit on the tire swing by the tree to smoke her cigarette. He quickly shut the curtain and in seconds, the once stoic and cocky hunter, burst into tears.

Dean's body trembled as the dam broke, his emotions finally flowing through him like a raging river. He stumbled backwards, his body landing on the edge of one of the couches again, sitting down with a heavy thud.

His hands gripped the edge of the couch tightly, his head lowering as he tried to catch his breath. The sight of her leaving the house, the image of her sitting outside, alone, smoking, it all fueled the pain that tore through him.

Dean's shoulders shook with each sob as he covered his face with his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks leaving them stained and his eyes red. His breath came out ragged and shaky, chest constricting like his heart was being squeezed. He couldn't believe it, his breath hitched as he let out a choked sob.

He loved her, he loved her so much, but he thought she didn't feel the same. He didn't think she could ever have feelings for someone as broken as he was.

Y/N took a deep, shaky drag of her cigarette. The smoke filled her lungs, providing a brief moment of comfort as she exhaled slowly. She could feel the tears welling up again, but she forced them back.

The cool night air nipped at her skin, but she didn't mind. The sting helped keep her grounded, preventing her from spiraling into her thoughts. She took another drag, her eyes staring blankly at the house across from the tree.

How could I ever think he would see me that way? I'll never be nothing more than the dorky girl with pigtails to him.

But he tried to kiss you

That doesn't mean he loves me the way I love him

She chastised herself, the lump in her throat growing by the second.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't you DARE cry L/N!

Sitting on that cold tire, the only thing keeping her warm was her cigarette lit between her fingers. Every so often she would raise it to her lips and take a drag, exhaling the smoke into the night air.

Her mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to run back into that damn house and beg Dean to give her a chance. But she didn't, she couldn't. She couldn't show that weakness.

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling another plume of smoke, watching it swirl and disappear in the air.

Why does it have to be like this? she silently wondered, her heart heavy in her chest.

She took another long drag of her cigarette, savoring the taste of the tobacco and the nicotine rush it provided. The brief relief was a small comfort.

And yet, I can't bring myself to stay away from him. Her inner thoughts whispered as her eyes opened. With that, the psychic gifted hunter burst into tears.

Her tears fell in earnest, streaming down her face and staining her cheeks. Her body shuddered as she tried to catch her breath, but the sobs just came harder, more tears flowing down her face.

She thought of all the times they had laughed together, the nights they shared on the road and the hunts they had gone on. All of the memories flooding in of their childhood they shared with Sam, their first kiss. It just added to the ache in her chest.

Y/N couldn't remember a time when she had felt so vulnerable, so raw and exposed. The pain of loving someone she thought didn't love her back was overwhelming.

Her sobs were quiet and shaky, her shoulders trembling as the tears streamed down her cheeks. The cigarette hung loosely from her fingertips, forgotten for the moment.

She tried to control her emotions, to keep her tears at bay, but it was futile. The pain and disappointment was too much. The pain of knowing that the man she loved would never see her the way she saw him.

The words echoed in her mind, a loop of pain and heartache that seemed to drown out everything else. She knew it was pointless, she knew it would only hurt more, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop loving him, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she didn't.

For years, she had been pushing her feelings down, pretending they didn't exist. But now, sitting on that bench, tears streaming down her face, she knew it was a losing battle. Y/N took a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she brought her cigarette to her lips again.

Y/N leaned forward, exhaling the smoke, bracing her elbows on her knees as she let out a choked sob. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "Why...why do I have to love him so much?" She whispered to herself between sobs, her voice cracking with emotion.

Dean was still sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands now clutching the fabric of his jeans so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

He was still deep in thought, the pain of the rejection still felt raw. Tears streamed down his face, hot and salty against his skin. He let out a shuddering breath, cursing himself silently. He tried to process everything that had just happened, but it kept circling back to her words.

'It's fine, honestly. I'm not gonna let unreciprocated feelings get in the way of our friendship'

Those words stung, like a knife to his heart. "Why...why do I have to love her so much?" He whispered to himself between sobs, his voice cracking with emotion.

________________________________

Authors Note: I think I’m gonna have to dodge some tomatoes right about now🤣

I hope everyone enjoyed, please don’t kill me! I actually sobbed writing the last part if that makes anyone feel better😭💔

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Once again, I’m so sorry for the late update and thank you everyone for continuing to read and support me🫶

Xoxo

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