#i scanned it...but........god knows what could have slipped through the cracks here

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Always ࣪ ˖⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

₊˚⊹♡ Summary: You find Zevlor after the elder brain fight to confess your true feelings.

₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Reader/Tav

₊˚⊹♡ Content: Romance - Love Confessions - NSFW - Tender Moments - Zevlor Is So Good And Gentle With You - His Tail Wrapped Around You

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: Super proud of this piece!!! This is one of the most gentle, romantic, soft, tender stories I have ever written and I'm so happy it's with Zevlor. This is a trade/gift I did for @cinnasalmon <3 I hope you enjoy this babes!!! As well as everyone else!!!

The echoes of war still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the remnants of what had been a fierce battlefield. Your chest rose and fell with each labored breath you took, your eyes scanning the area anxiously… Then, just as the smoke began to dissipate, you finally spotted him. Zevlor, the man you’ve come to love, was slowly making his way off the destroyed terrain, his back to you. His figure was hunched, bloodied like your own, and you notice how his hand gripped a fresh wound on his arm while his sword dragged listlessly beside him. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you ran towards him. Your sword clinked against the scattered debris, slipping from your grasp as you hastened towards him. All thoughts were consumed by his presence; the overwhelming relief that he was alive propelled you forward. 

“Zevlor!” You cried out, your voice cracking as your arms reached out to him. Your tears were swept away by the wind, making a trail of your profound relief and fear. 

At the sound of your voice, Zevlor’s tail twitched, a subtle but familiar response. He had always said there was a certain softness in your voice when you spoke his name. A tenderness that seemed reserved just for him… He paused, perhaps contemplating whether to continue walking or not. There were surely others who needed your aid, others who might be clinging to life just as desperately as he… You needn’t waste your time on him, a battered old hellrider. Perhaps he should just continue on his way, it was better to not burden you. 

Just as he was picking up his feet to move forward you called out to him again. Your voice was thick with emotions, more desperate, more laden with all the unspoken words you had kept to yourself. As Zevlor turned around, he felt a weight against his chest, one he hadn’t felt in so many years… You had thrown yourself into his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your head buried into his armor- seeking the warmth and solid reality of his presence. To seek and to know he was truly still here with you and had made it through this war. 

You rubbed your head against his plated chest, never ending tears streaming down your cheeks, “Thank the gods you’re- you’re alright- I- I-“ you choked on your words, your eyes squeezing shut as the horrifying image of finding him lifeless flashed through your mind, “I thought I had lost you…” 

Zevlor stood frozen, shock etching his features as he processed your embrace and the tearful confessions spilling from you. His own breath hitched, caught in the whirlwind of emotions he saw in you- emotions that were for him… About him. His battleworn hand hesitated, then slowly -careful not to show the pain he was in- lifted to rest on the back of your head- his fingers and long nails threading through your hair with a gentleness that spoke more than words could have. He kept his hand rested on the back of your head, cradling it softly against his chest while his gaze fell to the ground. His body shuddered ever so slightly as his own tears threatened to spill over, “Tav…” he murmured, his voice hoarse from battle, “I’m here… I’m still here.” 

For a long moment he simply held you, his mind racing as he absorbed the warmth of your body against his, the dampness of your tears running down his armor. The battlefield around him, the sounds of the fires and people cheering in the back- it all muted into a hum, overshadowed by the beating of his own heart and the softness of your sobs. For once, Zevlor allowed himself to close his eyes and relish in this moment, to enjoy you- the one he so wished to hold like this since the grove… a moment that had been denied for far too long. 

Zevlor had seen so much, had lost more, and in the harshness of the world of war and survival, he had hardened like the steel of his blade… Yet, here you were, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline, as if his very existence was integral to your own. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t baffle him, this significance you placed on his life, when he had long since viewed himself as just another soldier, expendable. 

“Why?” The word was but a whisper, a breath lost in the wind, yet heavy with insecurities. His voice cracked, rough like the gravel underfoot… It was a genuine question, one that clawed its way out from the depths of a soul not used to being cherished.

“You are- you’re not a foul blood, Zevlor-” you spoke into his chest, voice muffled, yet loud enough for him to understand, “You- aren’t meant to be tossed aside after being the other’s shield- Y-You never were…” You pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, the metal beneath them a reminder of all the battles he has endured and the scars he bears, “Zevlor- you- you are a hero to me. Not because of your sense of duty, but because-” You could feel your face heat up, could feel how a pure blush spread across your face, “because you are good- you are a good person, one who has fought tooth and nail for a home for not just yourself, but for your people… For those who didn’t deserve your loyalty…” The other tieflings had deemed him an outcast, a traitor after everything he had done for them… cowards… “Don’t ever think your life means nothing to me…” 

He flinched slightly, the raw honesty in your words striking deeper than any blade could. As he looked down at you, his gaze tracing the lines of worry- watching at how the red tint of your cheeks darkened- how it all painted your face. “I-I did not know,” Zevlor admitted, “I always thought myself a guardian, a protector. One ready to meet the gods should it be my time in the line of keeping others safe… Not someone to be cared for. Not someone to be mourned.” Your grip on him tightened, as if fearing that he might pull away or that the moment might fracture, leaving nothing but the cold remnants of war behind, “But you are,” You insisted, “To me, you are. And losing you would have broken something in me that could never be mended…” 

Zevlor let his hand trail from the back of your head, the pads of his fingers brushing gently across the curve of your cheek, the touch so feather light that you hardly realized he was stroking your cheek until his thumb swiped across your bottom lip, lingering there, “I-“ He started, then paused, his voice cracking as he winced, a shot of pain laced up his arm, his injury reminding him it was still there, “agh-!“ his knees buckled while holding his arms, the injury was much worse than he had thought.

“Zevlor!!” Your eyes widened, your hands immediately moving to catch him before he could hit the cruel ground, a sudden sense of urgency filling you as you remembered the extent of his injuries and how he had been clutching his arm… How his blood was smeared… How careless of you not to treat it sooner.

In the aftermath of his fall, Zevlor had found himself in your arms. The world around him a blur, his focus honing in on the only thing that had felt real… the only person who had truly mattered, you… 

He didn't say a word as his eyes traced your face, absorbing the concern that was written across it- the desperation that filled your gaze. There was so much he wanted to say- so many questions that swirled in his mind, but for now, darkness was beginning to take hold. 

“Zevlor!!! Zevlor!”

The last thing he felt was the warmth of your hands cradling him, the urgency in your voice anchoring him, even as the pull of unconsciousness grew stronger.

"Stay with me, Zevlor," your voice was a distant echo, a plea wrapped in fear and love. "Don't leave me..."

Somewhere in the depth of his fading awareness, Zevlor fought to hold onto that voice, to not slip away into the all consuming darkness. He wanted to speak, to reassure you, to hold you as you held him, but his body betrayed him, sinking heavily against your support….

…

When Zevlor opened his eyes, the harsh sting of his wound was replaced by a dull ache, and the room was dimly lit by the flicker of a fireplace. He was lying in a bed instead of his harsh bedroll, propped up by pillows on a soft bed, with you still by his side, your hand gripping his gently, as if you had not moved since he had lost consciousness.

"You're awake," you murmured, relief washing over you as you notice his eyes open, "You had me worried there for a moment.” You shifted closer to him, “I’m going to owe the gods it seems for taking such good care of you and making sure you don’t die on me.” Your soft laughter filled the air, an attempt to distract him from the worry that had lined your face and the fact that tears had long since dried.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze, his gaze softening as he took in your concerned expression, "Seems I owe you my life... again," he rasped, attempting to lighten the mood some more despite the gravity of his recent brush with death.

You shook your head gently, squeezing his hand.

“No debts between us, Zevlor. I meant what I said before you... before you scared me like that. I-“ Your head hung slightly, an attempt to hide the blush creeping across your face, an attempt to hide fresh tears that slowly brewed while your fingers caressed his knuckles, “I want you- I-… I wish for you to stay with me… I just can't bear the thought of being without you again… to be apart and not knowing what happened to you or- or if I'll ever see you again.” your words came out slowly, your feelings that had long festered spilling forth, your tears threatening to spill over, "I want to be able to stand by your side, and-" your voice hitched, the emotions bubbling forth, "for you to stand by my side and to protect you like you’ve protected me in this fight…”

You bit down on your lip, a habit that revealed your unease.

"I don't want you to risk your life alone anymore... I- that day when we parted in the grove… my heart, it ached… and then I found you in the pod… I- i just want you by my side- always…”

His brow furrowed, a pang of guilt echoing in his chest as he remembered the night in the grove, and the time you found him trapped in that damn pod. He had hurt you both times, not intentionally, but it didn't lessen the blow, “I apologize,” he said, his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair, his voice softer and filled with regret, "for the pain I caused you then, and the fear I caused you earlier." 

His hand continued to caress your hair, his eyes never leaving your face, "I've spent most of my life alone, and even when I was with others, it was a fleeting thing... Something that never truly did last.” He paused, his hand slipping to rest against the back of your neck, his eyes closing, as if remembering his past, his thumb stroking your skin, a comfort for the both of you, "If I’m being honest, I do not believe I deserve such kindness, such love- not from someone like you- but, Tav... If- if it is what you truly want- if it is truly me you desire- I am yours- wholly and without condition. I would be honored to be yours.” 

The moment hung in the air, the silence that followed his own confession heavy, as if the words had taken all the breath in the room with them. Your tears had stopped, and the only thing that remained was the fluttering in your stomach, and the rapid pounding of your heart…

You couldn't resist the gravitational pull drawing you closer to him, the overwhelming need to be near him and the desire to finally, finally feel him. To kiss him as you have so often dreamt of doing. Your body began to mold against his, your forms fitting together like puzzle pieces. The weight of you pressing down on him, your chest pressed against him sent a delicious shiver down his spine, his tail curling. 

Your fingers intertwined with his for only a moment before your hands moved to cup his cheeks. The sincerity of his words, the gentleness of his touch, the look in his eyes… It was such a perfect moment, so tender 

Your foreheads rested against one another, eyes closed, the anticipation hanging between the two of you- an intoxicating mix of nerves and excitement. You could feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your face while cradling his face, your fingers caressing the ridges of his cheekbones, trailing down the slope of his jaw and brushing across his lips. They were warm, and for a moment, all you could think about was how you could simply live like this, forever, feeling him, giving him absolutely everything and having him in return.

“Tav…” His voice was husky, low, filled with the same longing.

The moment was almost too perfect, a moment suspended in time where the world didn't matter and the only thing that mattered was him and how he was finally in your arms- how your lips would finally meet his-

And then, with a soft and slow press, the space between your lips was bridged and his lips were on yours.

To say you melted into him, was an understatement. The sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth, the softness- you were putty in his hands, a puddle of bliss. Every nerve in your body ignited as your lips moved with his- exploring, tasting- savoring the way his lips felt, how they fit against yours.

Zevlor, a man who had lived through so much, a man who had fought through it all, a man who had known hardship and had come out stronger because of it, had never experienced a kiss like yours. He had a few brief trysts in his younger years, but they had been fumbled and inexperienced, fueled by a carnal desire.

What he felt with you- it was different- the kind of kiss that spoke volumes, a kiss that was laden with months of repressed emotions and desire. With the way your lips moved against his, the softness, the gentleness- it was as if you were pouring your entire being into him, as if you were breathing the very air from his lungs. With each passing moment, the kiss grew more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, your teeth nipping at his lower lip and your fingers tangling themselves into his hair. The soft gasp that escaped him only fueling the desire burning in your veins, a fire that could only be quenched by him.

Your legs moved to straddle him, and the sudden feel of you pressing down onto his lap had caused Zevlor to make a sound that made your very core drop, the sound a cross between a growl and a purr. He could feel himself grow beneath the covers, his length thickening as the kiss deepened, his hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into the fabric of your dress.

His tongue swept across the seam of your lips, and his breath caught when you opened for him, his tongue gliding along the roof of your mouth and against the length of your tongue, his grip tightening on you.

“Hah~ ♡”

The sounds leaving you were positively beautiful, he wanted- no needed, to hear more. Zevlor’s kiss trailed across the curve of your jaw and the column of your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake, his breath hot against your skin.

“Zevlor~ ♡”

There it was- that sweet sound- that lovely cry of his name falling from your lips. It made him ache, his cock throbbing beneath the thin material that separated you. His hands traveled down your sides and slipped beneath the hem of your dress, his claws catching the material and pushing it up, baring your skin to him. His mouth found its way to your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there, the tips of his ears twitching as you arched into him moaning his name yet again, “Z-Zevlor~ please don’t~ don’t stop~” your hands roaming down his shoulders and clutching him.

Neither of you could wait any further, your hands tugging at his shirt, wanting to feel the heat of his bare skin. Your lips dipping to capture him in a passionate kiss as your hands roamed his still toned chest. And Zevlor, the usual patient man,could also not wait any further, he tugged your dress over your head, breaking the kiss for a moment to reveal the beauty before him, the beauty he had thought about all those lonely nights after meeting you. 

And there you were, the curves of your breasts and hips, the dips of your waist and the smoothness of your skin. Your blush, the color of a freshly bloomed rose, spread across your cheeks, down the length of your neck and down your shoulders.

“... Z-Zevlor,”

“So beautiful,” his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin, the tip of his tail lashing at his side, “So lovely, I- I feel almost as if I should be worshiping you instead of tainting you with my bloodstained hands-“

You pressed your finger to his lips, silencing him, the pad of your fingertip caressing the softness of his lips, a small smile playing on your lips, the blush spreading, the color deepening, and Zevlor found it to be a beautiful sight, “It's not tainting if I willingly accept you,” you murmured, the words whispered as if they were a secret for only the two of you, “besides, your hands aren’t the only ones stained.”

Zevlor’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you back down for a kiss, his tail slowly slinking up towards the thin sheet, the tip brushing against the fabric until it pulled back. You lifted your hips and watched as he pulled the piece of cloth back, allowing his throbbing cock to spring free, the swollen tip beading precum.

You knew it was gorgeous, you didn’t need to look at it to know such a thing, instead you kept all your attention on him, his face, his eyes, the way his hands explored your body, how his fingertips ghosted across the skin of your thighs and the curve of your back. How his tail wrapped around a leg of yours that was straddling him, how it lined you up with his throbbing cock. 

Zevlor couldn’t keep his hands off of you, his palms and fingers gliding over every curve, memorizing every dip and rise of your body. He took the moment to marvel at how beautiful you were, and how lucky he was to have you in his arms, how fortunate he was to have your love. 

Slowly, you began to lower yourself onto him, the tip of his cock stretching your entrance, his girth sliding inside you, his cock filling you, “H-Hells~ ah~ s’big~” 

Zevlor's head fell back against the pillows as a shuddering groan ripped from him, his nails biting at your hips, fighting the urge to cum right then and there. Fighting not to pull you down, to thrust his hips up. 

Sinking down further, inch by glorious inch, you felt his cock push deeper and deeper into your heat, stretching you deliciously and filling you perfectly. You could feel every thick vein lining it, the ridges that ran along the underside and the way it pulsed as it bottomed out, his tip kissing your womb.

“A-a-ah ♡”

“T-Tav,” Zevlor's breathing was ragged, his cock throbbing within the velvety confines of your tight heat, waiting for you to adjust to his size. His tail never left your leg, it gave you a light squeeze, the tip of it brushing against your leg, an attempt to comfort your discomfort.

“I-I think- hnnng- I think I can move n-now~"

You shifted, the movement causing him to brush against your cervix, “M-my Zevlor~♡”

At that, something snapped in him, and his hips bucked, his cock sinking impossibly deeper, the action ripping a sharp pleasurable cry from you.

He began to move, his hips slowly grinding up into yours, his gaze drinking in the sight before him- the way your lips parted, the breathy gasps that fell from you, the way your breasts bounced as he thrust into you. It was a sight he wanted to etch in his mind, to burn into the depths of his soul, the image something that could be seen even after death.

You were perfect- so perfect. He loved you, and the way his heart soared whenever he was with you, the way his breath was taken away by you, the way he ached for you- it was enough to know that he truly, honestly loved you.

Bringing you down for a kiss, he felt the shift, felt you move your hips, your pace matching his, and the two of you lost yourselves in one another, in the feeling of his cock driving into your soaked pussy, and the sounds of the other crying out.

Zevlor, despite the pain in his injured arm, couldn't resist, flipping you onto your back his face contorted with a mixture of pain and focus.

“Z-Zevlor-“ you reached out and grasped his face, “a-are you alr~ ah~!!” 

But Zevlor silenced your concern with a deep thrust, not wishing for you to be concerned with such a trivial thing when you were the only thing that mattered at the moment.

With every roll of his hips, Zevlor buried himself impossibly deeper, his cock dragging against your gummy walls, his hips grinding against yours. Zevlor's sole focus was on pleasuring you, on giving himself to you completely…

Your fingers tangled into his hair, the silken locks falling like a curtain around you as he loomed inches above you, his tail curling and twisting itself around your ankle, the tip tracing circles against your skin.

“Tav…” he stilled, his hips flush against yours, his eyes searching yours, his fingers trailing across the side of your face, the gesture tender, loving, and so soft.

He was handsome, so striking, the glow of the candlelight and fireplace illuminating his body, his eyes bright with adoration.

And you, a sight he would never grow tired of, “I love you.”

“Zevlor-” your voice broke and tears slipped down your cheeks, “I- I- love you too- s-so much-“

Zevlor felt his very own tears welled in his eyes, the words a balm to his weary soul, and for a moment, just a single moment, he was young again, the world was not so dark, the world a little bit brighter, and would be for a very long time with you at his side. 

Gently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, his thumb gently swiping at the tears rolling down your face, the touch lingering, as if he was trying to absorb the tears into his skin, just as you did the same for him.

Pulling back, Zevlor began to move once more, “I fear I won’t last much longer- not when I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms and in bed- not even the stars can compare.”

A small smile formed on your lips, a smile filled with so much joy, and your arms looped around his neck, his forehead resting against yours, and the two of you held each other, eyes locked as you rocked together.

“I- I am yours, Tav.” 

“Ah~ an-and I- I am yours, Z-Zevlor~”

You both chased the feeling, the warmth coiling and building in your core, the pressure mounting and growing. Zevlor could feel his control slipping, could feel himself reaching the precipice, and as he felt your walls flutter and clench around him, Zevlor gave in, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of your bodies slapping together, of the creak of the bed and the cries of the other.

And you- oh, how you sang for him~

With a final thrust, Zevlor felt his control break, and with a low, feral growl, his cock twitched and spasmed, his cum spilling into your womb, his cock spurting ropes of hot, sticky cum. His head dropping into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against the column of your throat.

Your body convulsed around him, your cunt milking him for all his seed, your body losing control creating a mess all over his cock. Your juices coating his thighs and dribbling onto the sheets below.

He never knew someone could make such a mess, never has he made someone squirt before, and he couldn't help but feel a little proud. 

It was bliss, absolute euphoria, and Zevlor could think of nothing else except for you. The two of you panted, breathless, and you could feel him smile against the side of your neck.

Both you could feel your eyelids grow heavy, and you felt sleep begin to take hold, the events of the day catching up with you.

“Sleep, darling,” Zevlor whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You'll still be here when I wake up?”

“I will always be here, no matter what.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

With those comforting words, knowing he’d be here when you awoke, knowing you’d awake to find yourself in Zevlor’s arms made you drift off. The smile on your face the most peaceful expression he had ever seen, and he knew he would do anything and everything to keep it that way. To keep you smiling, to keep the world from ever darkening those bright eyes.

He loved you, and would protect you, from this day and beyond.

And as the sun slowly rose over the horizon, you were safe in his arms. Your own personal haven, a refuge.

You were home and so was he in your embrace. 

[bohemianblasphemy]

hii did you know that season 2 episode 6? where hughie got hurt but instead reader got hurt. i want to see maybe angst :3

Right Here Waiting.

i’m so sorry this took so long to do 😭 i hope it’s okay✨

contains: butcher x reader, based around season 2 ep. 6, canon gore/violence, reader is basically getting hurt the same as hughie did, angst, some fluff at the end.

the air seemed to stand still as the van flipped, the multiple screams of Butcher, Annie and Hughie as they realised that you were still in there.

the escaped patient that had caused the shockwave pleaded for forgiveness; “please! please! i-it was an accident-“ butcher didn’t hesitate, putting a bullet between the man’s eyes. all he could think was of you, having been thrown around within the metallic walls.

the vehicle stopped rolling as you tried to focus on where you were, but all that was present was physical pain as you lay sprawled in the back of the van. the large doors in the back flung open as butcher desperately needed to get to you, grabbing you gently from the floor of the vehicle.

the bright sun burnt your eyes as Billy got you on your feet. “sweetheart, are you alright?” “y-yeah… i’m…” he scanned your body for injuries, before his eyes fell onto the gaping wound in your side before you fell to the ground, slowly going in and out of consciousness from the shock and blood loss. your ears rang and your eyes went crossed seeing multiple of the three of them, not able to decipher what was happening around you.

Annie and Hughie rushed to your side, butcher stood in shock, seeing you laying on the grass.

“they need a hospital. now. they’ll bleed out and die if we don’t get them there.” Hughie held pressure to the wound, trying to stop the blood flow.

Butcher couldn’t speak, only stare at the sight of you.

“butcher!” annie snapped, urging him to get out of his head and help you up, herself and hughie holding you on either side on your shoulders. “can you get the van started?”

Billy ran he hand through his hair as he walked to the front of the van, finding the key had snapped in two when it rolled. “shit, we can’t go, not in the van. FUCK!” he screamed out, kicking the side of the van before returning to your side. he studied your face,

“can you hear me?? fuck please… say something lovey.” he held your jaw in his hand, his other hand brushing along your cheek as hughie and Annie still held you up by the shoulders. the panic set in him when all you could muster was a strangled groan.

“we’ve gotta go by foot, we can’t do much here.” he turned on his heel, walking in the direction of the nearest road. “do we call an ambulance?” Hughie suggested “and have ‘em question why we were outside Sage Grove? no fuckin’ way.” he tried to remain composed but that was slowly slipping away.

“but the nearest hospital is 40 minutes away- they will die before we can get halfway there.” Annie yelled as her and Hughie walked with you draped around their shoulders, slumped over with your feet dragging along the ground.

“we ain’t got much of a choice now do we?” he snapped back, eyes never leaving your limp body. “we’ve gotta flag down some wanker in their car, carjack ‘em and get ‘em to the hospital.”

“butcher no, if we pull someone over and they recognise me im fucke-“ “this ain’t about your fuckin’ reputation with those Vought cunts, this is about savin’ their life. god fucking dammit if i lose them…” he couldn’t finish his sentence without his voice cracking, his vulnerability seeping through.

he shook his head, getting his vulnerable state in check and walked over to hughie and annie, taking over carrying you towards the dirt road at the edge of the hospital. he couldn’t help but feel his heart break as the sight of you, eyes barely staying open.

the minutes of walking along that road waiting for someone to drive by seemed like hours for the small group, especially for butcher. he kept replaying any and all thoughts of you in his head- thinking of how your eyes crinkled as you smiled, your scent, the late night talks with him- he wouldn’t know what to do without you.

eventually, the sound of rubber tyres came within earshot- hughie jumping into action and flagging down the vehicle. “sir please… we need to use your vehicle, o-our friend is hurt and need to get to the hospital now.”

the man in the car was sceptical, eyeing off hughie, annie, butcher and yourself. he saw the state of you, eyes widening at the blood stained sight. “what happened?” he questioned hughie.

“i-i can’t tell you- but they just need to get to hospital... please.” he practically begged him, but the man wouldn’t budge- .

“oi!” butcher yelled to him. “if you don’t get your sorry ass outta that car you’re gonna regret it.”

Hughie turned to Billy telling him to back down, making the driver aggravated. Annie watched as he step out of the car, pointed a revolver at them that was hidden in the side compartment in the drivers seat door.

“all of you, back the fuck up or you will eat lead.” the drivers shaky hand aimed toward hughie, the sound of the safety being turned off triggered Annie to project a forceful beam of light from her, sending him flying through the air- landing with a loud thud and crackled gurgling from his throat.

no hesitation was needed as you they piled into the car, carefully laying you in the back with butcher holding you and applying pressure to your gaping wounds. “hold on lovey, we’re on our way… you’ll be right yeah?” he whispered in your ear as you sway in and out of responsiveness.

Hughies foot hit the pedal and the tires squealed off into the distance as time was ticking, your life on the line.

“i can’t let ya die, not now….” butchers breath hitched as he stroked your hair, holding you as close as humanly possible. Annie and Hughie exchanged concerned looks, worried not only about you, but also for butchers state. if he was to lose you… god only knew what would happen.

Billy had sentiments for you that were obvious to both of them; in fact, he was so enamoured of you that he wouldn't think about anything else. Although the grouchy londoner was unaware of it, they also knew that you had it bad for him.

the journey seemed to go on for eternity, but on the horizon the looming white building came into view. billy sighed in relief, letting a breath out that he didn’t realise he was holding.

As hughie pulled up to the emergency doors, butcher didn’t hesitate in opening the car door and pulling you out as gentle as possible, carrying you in his arms as he walked through the giant doors.

“HELP! they need to be seen immediately! they’re bleedin’ out.” butcher cried out desperate to grab the attention of staff, who bounced into action- calling for a trolley to travel you along the winding corridors towards the surgery room.

He tried to go beyond the doors but was stopped by a personnel. “sir, you can’t go through. you’ll have to wait-“

“but they need me-”

“sir. you’ll have to wait in the waiting room, we will let you know as soon as they are finished in surgery you will be called.” he huffed, walking away from them.

Hours passed and there was no news to be heard. The bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room flickered as Butcher paced back and forth, Annie and Hughie watching him alertly.

“Butcher…” Hughie whispered. “the doctors are doing everything they can, please sit- you have to breathe-“

“breathe?” Butcher turned his head to him. “fuck that. i ain’t breathin’ until i know they’re safe.” he sucked in a breath, his mind taking him back to seeing you fall the the ground in your blood stained clothes.

“we will hear from the doctors soon, just trust they they will pull through this.” Annie remarked, Butcher stayed silent. His vulnerability seeped through the tough facade that he always had, twisting in him like a dagger.

After what seemed like more than eternity a doctor emerged from the surgery doors. Butcher’s head jerked up as the doctor walked toward him. the doctors expression serious as he addressed the three of them. “they are out of surgery now. they had lost a lot of blood, but they are stable. they got lucky, if they got here 20 minutes after they did, they wouldn’t have made it…”

Butchers heart sank, Annie and Hughie breathed a sigh of relief for their friend. “can we see ‘em?” Butcher enquired, which was received with a nod. “you can, they just aren’t awake at the moment, but you can go sit in their room.”

Butcher took no time to walk through the corridors to your room, the other two following in unison. As butcher entered the room, the sound of medical instruments monitoring your every bodily function and the smell of antiseptic chemicals overstimulated his senses. his heart skips a beat as his eyes avert over to your resting body- fragile and sickly from the blood loss.

Annie and Hughie hung back, your appearance shocking them to the core and to give Butcher space to process what’s happened to you.

Sitting in the chair next to your bed, he looks at the various bandages that adorned you, watching your chest as it rose and fell with your short winded breaths. his heart ached as he pushed a strand of hair from your face, seeing you vulnerable like this.

The sun started to peak on the horizon as more hours went by, an orange glow seeped through the glossy windows of your hospital room. Butcher had fallen asleep in the chair, Annie and Hughie had gone to grab snacks and drinks for themselves.

You began to stir, the light blinding you slightly as you came to. the overwhelming sounds and smells invaded your senses as you woke up slowly with a groan. Butcher awoke as he heard your groan, his heart fluttering as your eyes opened and scanned your surroundings before they landed on him.

“Billy?” you said weakly, your tired eyes fixed onto him. “i’m here love…” he whispered. his voice croaked with relief, fighting back the lump that formed in the back of his throat. “i almost lost ya…”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you realised how close you were to losing everything, him slipping through your fingers.

“I-I was so scared.” his heart sank once more, hearing your confession. Billy took your hand gently, running his thumb across your tender knuckles. “ you’re safe now… the doctors did their job.”

He paused for a moment. “i’m not gonna let anything happen to ya… never again, you mean too much to me. you won’t ever be scared again.”

“Billy I-“

“shhh… you gotta rest love.” he squeezed your hand tenderly, bringing his lips to your knuckles and kissing them, smiling softly as you looked at him.

“i’m gonna be right by your side yeah? no matter what, you’ll be safe… safe with me.” in that moment, you smiled weakly at him- seeing that spark of love in his eyes that you mirrored for him.

[springsylph]

bodyguard.

[bodyguard!john price x rookie actress!reader]

extension of this blurb. || minors, do not interact.

read on ao3

this was supposed to be a one-off thing but uh. my hand slipped? had to cut down the "price wouldn't do that" monster with my "i can do what i want" sword, and we got 3k of an unedited brain dump that i typed on my phone at six in the morning. also my first time writing something for price! woo!

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?"

Yelling secures you your first big project.

You can’t pay those bills until I land a job. A real job.

You’re almost certain your agent thinks you’re throwing a tantrum, and it leaves a coarse grit in your molars. You don’t like to pick fights. Hate it, really. But pushes are usually succeeded by shoves, and you can’t afford to get knocked out of the ring this time around.

The worst they can do is say no, right?

Thankfully, one yes is all you need to beg for. Your chariot arrives in the shape of a surprisingly low-budget rom-com, in simple terms. You and your C-list costar (flanked by a squeaky clean track record, thank god) are swept up in a soundless spiral of table reads and filming and wrapping before you can really, truly process.

But a warden stands guard at the eye of your perfect storm. John Price, assigned to you through your agency without so much as a proper word.

(“Squeaky clean,” apparently, didn’t take a history of overzealous stalkers into account.)

The peephole to your dilapidated apartment can barely contain him. blocks him—or attempts to do so—like a child might shield their sandcastle from the pulsing tide. Only, you think the tide might be more forgiving. He’s rooted in place, made harsher under the cracked fluorescent bulbs out in the hallway. They hum along with him. Faint, unless your breathing stills.

You’d feel a little more at ease if he were actually ex-military; the scraps of information you’ve been fed tell you that he’s been discharged, but you don’t believe it. Not for a second. You hadn’t been given much else apart from that and a face, but you could put together that he was disgustingly overqualified—not that you were complaining, though. Not yet.

You watch as John Price—Price?—gazes with a deceiving sort of apathy toward the end of the hall, then to the other, and back to the other end in three smooth seconds.

You think he’s seeing things till the apartment two doors down produces a tenant from its depths and price is turning, warding the disturbance off with an easy mornin’ and a wave of a large hand. He says nothing when they shuffle off awkwardly without a response, and the slow crawl of his opposite hand away from a flash of metal at his hip draws your pupil like a magnet.

It’s then that you note the suspiciously white shirt—rolled up to his elbows, tucked neatly into dark denim. hands tucked into pockets. Beard trimmed. Everything not protected by the skin on his body squared away just so, with just enough of his bulk on display to prompt that second spike of wariness.

A meticulous problem, then.

You peel yourself away from the door after an inhale and swing it open regardless.

The smell of tobacco and cologne hits your nose like a hammer the moment the door hits the bolt behind you, but you recover the feeling in your knees quickly. The fisheye lens doesn’t quite do him justice—you have to look up a bit to take another quick scan, cheeks cramping with the sudden momentum of your smile.

“I don’t see a bible or a pamphlet, so I’m assuming you’re not here to preach?” 

The joke doesn’t fall flat, but it does sail into one of the weaker bulbs before it shuts off with a buzz.

“…Captain Price, right?”

His eyes crinkle with a hint of what might be a grin. Under different circumstances, maybe. “Right on the mark. A pleasure to finally meet you, Ma’am.” But that thrum of irritation is there, as is the narrowing of his eyes when you extend your hand in greeting. “Just Price’ll do though.”

Hm.

He reaches up to fix his beanie just above his brow before giving your hand a firm shake. Definitely military. And hot as a furnace. You’re more than a little dizzy when he pulls back to check his watch, the inside of your wrist now raw from the grazing of a fingernail.

You can feel the skin he’s taken with him when he looks you in the eyes. Assessing. You don’t know why, but think you’ve won until he’s looking back down at his wrist.

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?”

Nine in the morning.

Or, at least it was thirty minutes ago.

“I—yeah. Lost track of time, sorry.” You scratch just under the collar of your shirt, straighten it out when the itch turns into a tingle you’re willing to overlook. You realize after an embarrassing beat that he’s probably asking for the actual time. “I sleep like a rock,” you add anyway. Your agency had actually given you three things, not two: a poorly put together profile, a face, and a meeting time.

It dawns on you now that a thirty minute “test of patience” with your back pressed to the door may not have been the way to go.

Price looks up, finally. Rolls his shoulders back as if to shed the pileup of gravity that’s compressed his spine in the half hour you’ve kept him waiting—and somehow, someway, seems to double the amount of space he takes up.

“That so,” he questions. Low in his throat, and a tad exasperated, because you’ve studied exasperation. Went into debt to have that understanding feel like a second skin. Which is why you observe, perplexed, as he gestures to the entryway. You think you feel your head nod, and he brushes past you to push through the door. “‘Nother habit we’ll have to kick.”

Any objections you might’ve had are killed in your throat the moment his prowl begins, and your socks catch on the scuffed linoleum as you flounder in after him.

The door slams back against the bolt while Price’s boots press the air out of your hardwood floors, squeals escaping with each heavy step. You squeak out a feeble excuse me alongside them once or twice, but to no avail. He can’t hear you, too intent on following some internal rhythm that takes him to the open window, the dusty cabinets, slipping fingers into the creases of a space you’re barely acquainted with yourself.

Something like nausea begins to bubble. You planned this. You’d planned out your introduction. Picked out your clothes, your shoes, where you’d grab coffee so you could build up your integrity and explain to him that you’re not looking to be coddled, he’d just get in the way. And now you’re wringing your hands, abject unease burning in a dense knot between your eyes while you figure out how to melt into the poorly hidden pile of dirty laundry.

There’s a delay in your processing, and you don’t start to catch up until Price finally slows down enough for you to realize he’s been talking.

He’s stooping over your dining room table, swiping a finger over his tongue before using it to card through old mail. “Real sorry ‘bout this, Ma’am. Not the most ideal introduction, I know, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Standard protocol—’m sure you know how it is, yeah?”

Price moves to turn over a stack of magazines on your dining table, and you wonder: were you supposed to know? You’re sure his question is rhetorical, and you’re certainly not inclined to answer. But something about the way it hits the water stains on your ceiling justifies the way he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

Concern. An uncut gem, plucked from some cavernous fissure that might be closer in proximity to hell than your own flesh and blood.

The crease between his brows deepens. “You have had security before, haven’t you?”

“Don’t get out much. I do my work, come right home.” You shrug, but your shoulders can’t seem to come back down. Perhaps this was why they’d put him on leave—he couldn’t do math.

You shuffle a bit in place, kick aside a ratty tennis ball left behind from one of your pet sitting stints. It hits your refrigerator and he’s still looking down at your feet, so you look with him.

—at the last two toes sticking out of your sock.

You rush to cover it with your other foot while Price sucks his teeth. He doesn’t move, hands still planted on the table, but each time he blinks his eyes are trained on something different.

Price lets out a sigh before he finally stands upright, perching his hands on his hips. “I'm surprised your people waited this long to call someone in. Right idiots they are, I’ll tell you that.”

Your people. You wrap your arms around your middle, pinch the fabric of your shirt between your fingers.

“I can't really blame them,” you say after a moment. Tip your chin up, a last ditch attempt at salvaging what little of your farce is left to cover yourself with.

Price tuts, strangely unconvinced for someone you’d only known for around ten minutes. “You’d be smart to blame them.”

“Don’t think I can do that when I'm working for them, Price.”

“Can’t you? S’clear they’ve done fuck all to look out for you.”

And you could. Should. Want to. So, so desperately need to. But you’re already saddled with enough things to hate. Hope of catharsis is an outbound ship, a blip on the horizon that you don’t have the funds to board. 

“…I don't follow.”

Price doesn’t flinch when the table rocks without the weight of the magazines to keep it steady, and neither do you.

“You don’t follow,” he repeats. Like a crucial detail has been lost in translation.

You shake your head.

“Well, that’s no good.”

Cigar smoke snakes its way into your headspace again when he strides past you to put his hand up against the door, muscles in his forearms flexing when he pulls at the doorknob. He beckons you closer, and you’re pulled out of orbit when you skirt close enough for him to reach, guiding your hand to the cool metal while he stands just behind you.

“Here,” he mutters. Your chest is a cushion, and the rumble in his chest is a bright red pin.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if the crackle of a walkie-talkie might bury how frighteningly human he sounds.)

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He takes his hand off once you’ve stopped throwing glances at him, and your knuckles sizzle in his absence. What was he looking for? Nothing…looks different. 

You can’t focus. His eyes are on your neck, and you can’t focus.

And suddenly, you don’t like how close he is. You’re reminded of how he’d shoved his way into your apartment. Barely spoken to you before driving a stake through the bubble put together with your blood sweat and tears. Made you feel ashamed in your own home.

Righteous indignation flares up, and you’re spewing words you’re certain you believe in until they tumble out.

“If you’re just here to poke fun, I’m not—”

Pop.

You look down. The keyhole pokes just out of the doorknob and you look to Price, his face remarkably passive.

“Lock’s been tampered with.” He runs a thumb over the offending protrusion, watches as it slots back into place. “You should see some scratches on the other side of it. Thought I noticed something when the door first slammed, but I didn't want to startle you in case my eyes were playing tricks. Can’t quite see like I used to.”

Why not get glasses?

“I would’ve put up less of a fuss if you’d told me up front.”

He looks at you, eyes a perfect congruence of something just beyond what your fingertips can touch. But he smiles, and you think you can understand. Maybe mash the pieces together. A distending warmth. Nepenthe sinking into every orifice until you’re expelling your woes through your nostrils.

Your axis tilts when Price puts a solid hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not good to lie, mm? Not to me.”

Not good to lie.

When you slide out from under his palm, his callouses snag on the exposed seam of your shirt. You toss him a grin, a bone. “Noted.”

Insecure seconds pass, but not without movement. 

It begins like this: Price walks away from the door, and you’re almost grateful for the squealing underneath his feet to fill the silence. He takes your stack of mail and magazines, sets them exactly as they had been before he’d entered. The table is righted, and he works in reverse from that point on.

Closing cabinet doors. Angling that picture frame you’ve been meaning to adjust for weeks. He’s putting things into their proper place, like setting bones before they’re enclosed in a stiff cast. 

You, though, are still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You really don’t need to—”

He holds out a hand. “Relax. ‘M just having a second go around.”

You bristle, but your decision to pad over to the couch is of your own volition. It caves in when you sit, and you wiggle to get the cushions to realign with your hips. Your hands feel around blindly for the remote to your TV before remembering you’d dropped it out of the window in a fit of anger some weeks ago, so you sit back, spine hitting the hard frame of the couch. Price’s noises pair well, somehow, with the wind sliding over the glass and the neighbors downstairs.

Until you feel his presence at the back of the couch, and a thought smacks you right across your forehead.

You shoot up, heart rate suddenly inflamed by panic. “Price?”

The movement stops, and you turn around, peer over to find Price prepped to duck his head under the couch. “Hm?”

“Uh.” You hesitate. Shit, think—

“H-how much are they paying you, anyways?” Good save. Maybe a little less than good.

You feel a little bad that you’d stopped Price mid-crouch; you can’t quite remember how old he is, but you know he’s old enough for knee pain to be a concern. He looks up as if crunching the numbers in his head. Hums. “Enough.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Saw the picked lock, didn’t you?”

“Were you really discharged?”

“Depends. There something under this couch you don’t want me seeing?”

Looks like you can knock “interrogation skills” off of your list of special skills on your resume.

Your jaw snapping shut is enough to send his arm sliding under, and you can only watch in horror as his clutched hand emerges holding a scrap of thin blue fabric. He pushes himself up off of his knees. Takes his sweet time wringing out his back while your eyes track his hand like he’s got a thumb over the button of a detonator.

If he had any shred of decency—

“Another thing I caught on my way in,” he huffs. He holds out his hand and allows the blue fabric to uncurl. A flag, hung full mast right between your eyes. Another one of his tests. 

“Price.”

“C’mon, now. Take it from me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice; your arm shoots out and you win it back in one go. Stuff your lacy underwear into the pocket of your pants and wait for your ceiling to collapse in on you.

“Can’t leave pretty things like that layin’ around.” And Price stops, watches as you curl in on yourself. Voice like the push of velvet shifting underneath your palms. “Likely to rip if you’re not careful.”

You pull your head into your shirt and curl your knees into your chest. It’s a shock when you find yourself face to face with your heartbeat, the skin over your left breast jumping underneath your nose. “I think we’re done here.” 

Price makes that sucking noise again with his teeth—agitation, you think it’s agitation—and you trace the hazy shadow of him through your shirt as he steps around the couch to walk to the window. He snaps twice, and you’re beginning to entertain the thought of what might happen if you had enough strength to push him out.

“What now,” you croak.

“Eyes up.”

Slowly, you muster up enough spite to bring your head just above the collar of your shirt. Military men and their incessant need for…whatever the hell this was. 

“You’ve gotten better at this. Quick study,” Price remarks.

“Better at what.”

“Listening. That’s good, real good. That’ll make this a whole lot easier,” he says, a note of appreciation that you haven’t heard yet stirring that tiny pool of filth just underneath your navel. You hum.

Price crosses his arms. Flicks his stupid eyes toward the fluttering curtains. “How often d’you leave this open?”

Your face pinches. “I mean—pretty often? It’s hot, Price. And in case you haven’t noticed,” you wave your hand to the general state of disrepair, “I don’t exactly have good circulation in here.”

This gives him pause. Whatever plan he’s recalibrating, you want no part of it. You do notice that he hasn’t put his hands in his pockets since he showed up on your doorstep, instead favoring the use of his left hand to rub his chin. 

“Come over here and close the window.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. “...Close the window? Price, you can’t be serious.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can’t…can’t you close it?”

“It’s not my window. Can’t do everythin’ for you.”

He stares at you expectantly. Your tailbone is beginning to throb, and for some damning reason, that note still ringing bright in the back of your skull. That’s good. Good, good, good.

Price catches that eager glint the moment it surfaces.

“Go on then, love.” He tips his head. “Close it.”

The rest of you surfaces slowly. You look back for a moment at the indent left on the couch, think about how long that imprint will be there until you feel inclined to fluff out those cushions again.

(Later. You’ll get to it later.)

Shutting the window doesn’t take much effort, but the swampy temperature is noticeable. You turn around a little too quickly, so you hold an arm out to the now sealed vault in an exaggerated show of bravado. I did it, see?

Price slides past you to look outside. He purses his lips when he finds what he’s looking for, and you can almost see the note being stashed into some faraway file.

He turns to you. “Keep this window closed till further notice,” and a hand reaches out to tug the curtains shut, and yellow from the lamp you’d left on last night washes over the room instantly.

“Price.”

“I take my work seriously. You take yours seriously, you’ll need me.”

It feels like a slap in the face. “I do, but that doesn’t mean—”

“My job,” and he points to himself, then to you, “is to keep you out of harm's way. Can’t do this if you don’t trust me.”

“You’re asking a lot for someone who hasn’t—”

You go silent as he reaches a hand into a back pocket, pulls out his hand and you count one, two, three square devices around the size of a nail.

“Busted lock, three faulty cameras, all outside. You’re lucky these people are idiots.” He shoves them back into his pocket before returning his focus to you. “You need me.”

You blink. 

Price smiles, raises his eyebrows as if the conversation is already over. “Hungry?”

You stumble back. “But what about—what about the apartment?”

“S’fine,” he says. He checks his watch. “I know a couple guys, you’re in good hands.”

[thebiggerbear]

Come Pick Up Your Ghosts

Summary: Jensen left a little...something behind on his last visit when he was in town. Something you are urgently asking him to come back and retrieve so you can know peace once more.

Characters: Jensen Ackles; Friend!Female!Reader

Pairing: none (I came at this purely from a friendship-type basis for Jensen and Reader y'all, sorry about that)

A/N: I don't write RPF (this is my first time actually). I have read it but I don't write it. This was the result of some freeflow writing I was doing and allowing the muse to stretch a bit before digging in for a writing-focused weekend. Anytime the muse goes off the trail, I tend to say up front that I have no idea what this is. And that still holds true with this piece though I will say that on this one, I do know why the idea popped into my head. I recently saw the podcast Jensen did with Michael Weatherly (Pulling the Thread) and the garage door moment and his reaction to it just cracked me up.

All unbeta'd.

Sequel here

A little disclaimer: No disrespect is meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I don't know either of them or anyone connected to or associated with them. I merely took things from interviews, con videos, the podcast mentioned above, and his public persona to create the "Jensen" seen here. This was purely for creativity and entertainment purposes. Just for fun.

Warnings: fear (reactionary); language; jokes of implication

Word Count: 4957

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You stepped into your house, humming happily as you set your grocery bag down on the counter. You quickly rifled through the mail and stepped on the pedal of the garbage can to open the lid to toss inside whatever junk you found. When you were done, you turned to slip your keys on the keyring, only to turn back to find that the legitimate mail you had set aside on the counter was now all over the floor. 

“Dammit,” you muttered, crouching down to pick it up. When you stood back up, your grocery bag was a few inches to the left of where you had set it down and your refrigerator door was now open a crack. You glanced around, though you knew you were the only one in the house. After a moment of quiet, you shrugged and easily dismissed it. 

You began unloading the vegetables from the grocery bag, continuing to hum, and opening the fridge door wider so you could place them in the right spots. When you spun around to get more items, you nearly jumped. The mail you had organized into a neat pile was now scattered all over your counter and the grocery bag was even closer to where you were standing in shock. …what the hell?

You waited, holding your breath, but when nothing moved, you slowly let it out. You told yourself that you must have knocked into the mail when pulling the produce out of the bag and that’s what sent the envelopes flying haphazardly across the marble. You probably just didn’t notice because you were so focused on your task. And the bag…you probably moved it yourself and just didn’t remember. That tended to happen more often than not when you were on autopilot, and thoughts of something else were running through your mind. That’s all it was. Yeah.

You pulled the bag even closer to you, carefully reaching in to grab the eggs and the strawberries. You scanned the room around you one more time before loading them into the refrigerator. Just as you placed the eggs down on the proper shelf, you heard something behind you that sounded like a slow sliding. You whipped around, your heart beating fast, but you didn’t see anyone. “Hello?” You called, hoping to God someone hadn’t broken into your home. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time you would’ve had to worry about something like that.

There was no response and you slowly peeked around the open fridge door. Thankfully, no one was there and one quick scan into the hallway didn’t show anyone either. You quietly closed the door and looked around the room but there was no one to be found. You took careful steps around your counter and your eyes widened when you saw one of your drawers open and sitting there, almost fully pulled out. Now you knew what that sound before had been.

You knew for a fact that you had not opened it and there was no way it just opened on its own…right? You shook the thought from your head and decided that there must be something wrong with the drawer slides or even the drawer itself. Perhaps the warmer weather was making the wood expand and while that possible explanation really didn’t help your theory, you refused to acknowledge the logistics and chalked it up to a faulty drawer. As a matter of fact, you were going to put a call in to your construction guy as soon as you were done putting the groceries away, first thing. 

You quickly shut the drawer, nodding in approval when it didn’t open again, and turned back towards the counter. As soon as you did, your keys clattered to the floor behind you. You very slowly turned to look and sure enough, there sat your keys right on the tile floor, almost taunting you. Your eyes trailed upwards to the hook they had been hanging on. It didn’t look bent in any way and they had been sitting securely on the piece of metal because you had put them there yourself. How were you going to explain that one?

Your keys suddenly moved a few feet to the left, startling you and making you jump back. The moment you did, a huge chill went up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You froze; every one of your instincts were telling you not to turn around, not to look. But look at what? You didn’t have too much time to ponder that one, though, when your keys moved again, this time towards you. And at the same time, two envelopes fell to the ground from the counter, as if they had decided to leap from the edge. Your drawer that you had just shut then opened again, slowly. The chill was gone but now adrenaline was kicking in and your heart was hammering against your ribcage. Where there had been a whisper of fear before, now there was only irritation and it was growing. 

Immediately, you shook your head. “Nope, not happening.” You slammed the drawer shut, picked up your keys, thrust them into your pocket for now, and retrieved the runaway envelopes. When you popped back up, you gasped, seeing the fridge door that you knew you had closed now wide open. Well, that explains the chill at least.

A cabinet in the corner slowly began to open right in front of your eyes and a package of teabags you had sitting up on the highest shelf fell out onto the counter next to your stove. At the same time, the drawer you had just placed the strawberries into inside the refrigerator also slowly opened. And as if that wasn’t enough, your sink decided it wanted to join in on the party by the faucet turning on, a healthy flow of water going right down the drain.

Okay, now you were pissed. “Oh, hell no.” You moved right over to the sink and shut it off. “First of all, we are currently under a state mandate to conserve our water so there will be no more of that.” You then moved over to grab the box of tea. “Second, if you want tea,” You stood up on your toes to place it back on its shelf and then slammed the cabinet shut. “You can go make yourself a cup somewhere else.”

You suddenly heard clicking next to you and you glanced over to see a burner come to life, the knob having been turned halfway. You watched as your tea pot was then slowly moved towards the burner, stopping short by a few inches. You immediately turned the burner off and set the teapot back in its original position. “Not happening.” You then went about shutting the produce drawer, the fridge door, and you quickly put the rest of your dry groceries away before folding the bag and slipping it into another cabinet. When you turned around, now all of your mail was all over the floor and you heard a door shut somewhere inside the house, loudly, which made you jump once more. You watched as yet again, that same kitchen drawer opened. You heard the telltale clicking sound followed by the whooshing of a flame lighting the burner and sure enough, one glance over confirmed your stove had been turned back on, the knob in the exact same position as before, and so was the teapot.

You turned the stove off and then removed the knob from its stem. “Ha, good luck turning that knob now,” you muttered, completely forgetting that there were three other burners. Suddenly, another door inside the house slammed shut so loudly you were sure the house shook. That was it. You’d had enough of this shit.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket and scanned through your recent calls, clicking on the name once you found the one you were looking for. You knew exactly who was to blame for this recent amateur attempt at a new Paranormal Activity movie starring your home, a house that until two weeks ago had been perfectly peaceful and you were the only resident. You put the call on speakerphone and waited for it to connect. As you did, you then remembered the other burners and removed those knobs, too. Another door slammed shut somewhere up above. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice answered warmly after about four rings. “I was just thinking about calling you and seeing what you were up to.”

“Bro, you need to come pick up your ghosts.”

“My what?” Jensen laughed.

“You heard me.” Another door slammed. “I don’t know what the fuck you brought with you last time you were here, but you need to come get it out.”

“Oh Y/N, are you really trying to pull a prank on me right now? I mean, technically it is your turn, I guess.”

Yet another door slammed, loud enough that you knew Jensen heard it, too. “Does it sound like I’m joking around? Seriously, come pick this shit up and bring it back to Connecticut where it belongs. Or I will never let you come back here, I swear.”

“Never?” He teased.

“Not even if you show up with pizza and twizzlers.” Your own two versions of Kryptonite that he knew well.

“Okay, first, I will never buy you Twizzlers, that crap is disgusting. Red vines only. Second, you absolutely would let me in if I showed up with a pizza, who are you kidding?”

You mulled it over for a moment, ignoring another slam upstairs. He had you there. “You’re missing the point.”

You could hear him snickering on the line and you glared at your phone, knowing full well he couldn’t see you but hoping like hell that he could feel the laser death eyes you were giving him. “And the point is?”

Suddenly, footsteps started stomping around above your head, catching your attention. “The point is, you brought something here when you visited and you need to come get it.” Another slam. “This is exactly why you should have let me smudge you before you walked in by the way.”

“Smudge me? Okay now you’re starting to sound like Danneel.”

“You know what? You’re right. I should have called her. At least she would believe me and take this seriously.” More stomping around above followed by another slam. Jesus H. Christ, had he brought some sort of bratty overdramatic energy with him this time? If you didn’t know any better, you could swear there was a teenager wreaking havoc in the upper level of your home, throwing a fit because you had the nerve to tell them no. You were almost at the point that you were ready to tell your construction guy when you called him that he also needed to remove all of the doors inside the house. Before they or their frames were ruined by the force of the consistent slamming. 

“Take it seriously? Y/N,” You heard him lower his voice. “Ghosts aren’t real. I’ve told you that. The stories we tell at the cons are just that. People love to hear it and that’s why we talk about it. But it’s not actually real.”

Before you could respond, a loud shrill of a female scream sounded throughout the house, making you jump a few feet in the air. Well, that answered that question about the supernatural teenage temper tantrum currently being thrown.  

“What the fuck? Y/N, was that you? Are you okay?” His voice raised in volume near the end and you could hear the worry clear as day. 

Okay, yeah, you were done. You pulled your keys from your pocket. “That wasn’t me,” you assured him. 

“Thank God,” he muttered. “Do you have the TV on or something?”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even bother answering that one. He obviously didn’t believe you. “I’m getting the fuck out of here. And I’m not coming back until you take this shit back with you or I get a priest to remove it or something.”

“You could always call that Zak guy.” He was making fun of you; the asshole had brought some pissed off bratty ghost to your home and he was making fun of you. 

“So I can then be told that I’m possessed by a dark energy and there’s demons hanging out in my guest room upstairs, chilling and watching Amazon Prime on my dime? No thanks.” You hurried to the back door but froze when another scream ripped through the house, sounding absolutely furious. The sound made your blood run cold.

This time, the amusement and teasing were no longer in Jensen’s tone. “Okay, you need to tell me what’s really going on over there. That sounded serious. Y/N, if this is a prank, I swear—”

“It’s not a fucking prank,” you hissed quietly, glancing back towards the hallway. The sounds had all come to a halt and there was nothing now but an ominous silence. 

“Why are you talking so quietly? Is someone—”

“Shhh!” 

You waited for the other shoe to drop. Without thinking about it, you began facetiming, pointing the phone towards the doorway of the kitchen. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jensen trying to determine what he was looking at, all traces of his earlier humor gone. 

“Y/N,” he asked quietly. “What am I looking for? Do you need me to call the police?”

You shushed him again, waiting, your gaze focused on the hallway that led to the stairs. Something didn’t feel right. There was no way everything just came to a halt, not after that flurry of activity. Sure enough, you heard a sound that sent chills throughout your body and ice through your veins, leaving you frozen in fear. Loud footsteps slowly started coming down the stairs. So loud that even Jensen heard them. 

But you were so terrified you barely heard Jensen telling you to get out of the house now. You also didn’t notice how badly your hand was trembling, causing the picture on your phone to tremble along with it.  

You had wondered earlier if someone had broken into your home and here you were about to find out but… Things moving around in front of you that you couldn’t explain was one thing. The stove being turned on, doors being slammed, and angry screams were another (though that would be enough to be anyone’s breaking point). But actual fucking heavy footsteps making their way toward you…no, fucking no.

When the footsteps came to the last stair and then stopped, your heart stopped along with it. Even Jensen had gone quiet, either waiting with you to see what would happen or refusing to give away your position to whoever he thought was in your house. The terror you felt was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Every cell in your body screamed at you to get out of there, telling you there was danger, but you couldn’t move. You were even holding your breath, not wanting to make a sound.  

Just then, heavy footsteps started rushing right at you and you shrieked, bolting out of the house. Just as you made it down the porch steps, the door slammed shut behind you, making you jump once more. You spun around to see if anyone had followed you but there was no one. 

“Y/N, are you okay? Hey, talk to me! Are you alright?” Jensen sounded desperate. “That’s it, I’m calling the cops.”

“Don’t! Just g-give me a second,” you rushed out, still trying to catch your breath. You lifted the phone back up, pointing it in the direction of your back door. You leaned forward a little bit, still trying to see if there was anyone when suddenly the door flew open.

“Y/N, get out of there now!” 

You didn’t hear anything else Jensen had to say because your eyes were wide at what you were seeing. No one was standing there and no one was hiding behind the wall because you had windows that could see into the kitchen. And what you saw was making your brain want to shut down. All of the cabinets were open and objects from inside were flying out at an alarming rate. You heard glasses and plates breaking, crashes, thuds — the works. Your fridge doors blasted open and things were being thrown out into the room. There went the strawberries you just bought, the vegetables, the eggs....every single item inside was now somewhere on your kitchen floor. Then the envelopes from earlier were tossed out onto the porch in your direction as well as the teapot and burner knobs from your stove. An angry scream resounded in the kitchen before the back door slammed shut once more.  

Seeing the knobs suddenly brought you back into the moment and your brain started to work again. Now that you were safely out of the house, your irritation returned with a vengeance. “You want to be like that?” You yelled at the house. “Fine! You pay the fucking mortgage then!”

Another scream sounded but instead of being scared, you waved a dismissive hand at the house and stormed towards your car. You got in and placed the phone into its cradle on the dash, turning the lens around so Jensen could see you. Relief began to wash over his features when he did, though he seemed a little paler than normal. Whether that was because of what he’d just seen along with you or the fury he now saw in your expression, you couldn’t be sure. And truthfully, you didn’t give a shit; you were pissed.

“Are you okay?” He asked as you started the engine.

“Am I okay?” You growled. “I have a squatter ghost who just took over my home, one you brought there when it hitched a ride from your haunted mansion so no, Jensen, I am not okay.” You buckled your seatbelt and then backed out of your driveway. “That is the absolute last time I let you inside my house.” Remembering his teasing from minutes before, you quickly added, “And all of the pizza in the goddamn world is not going to change my mind.”

“Not even if I was willing to buy Twizzlers just this once?”

You shot him a glare and he laughed though it sounded like a mixture of relief and nervousness. He had seen everything you had seen through that window; there was no denying that, though he might still try. And while you could understand he was trying to make you feel better by making light of the scary situation you had just been in, that didn’t take away from the fact that this was all his fault. You had told him to state firmly to the ghosts at his place that they weren’t allowed to follow him when he called to tell you a few weeks back that he had a con near your area so he’d be dropping by to visit. And what had he done? Rolled his eyes, laughed at your expense, and told you that he wasn’t doing that. After all, ghosts aren’t real. Even when Danneel had told you about the strange events happening the last time you visited them at their new home, Jensen had simply shook his head and rationalized every single occurrence she had mentioned. He didn’t believe in that paranormal stuff. An odd statement for a man who had spent fifteen years fighting a fictional version of almost every mythical supernatural creature there was from folklore. He had given you a mock glare when you pointed that one out and then he promptly changed the subject. 

And then the asshole (affectionate) just had to keep his word, stopping by to say hi while he was in town for a convention and bringing the aforementioned pizza along with some of his beer for a Top Gun marathon, and now you were out of a home. At least until you could get the place exorcized or cleansed or ghost-bombed or something. And that didn’t even include the huge mess you were going to have to clean up, the repairs your construction guy was going to have to make...all because he refused to humor you. Even if he thought you were a fries short of a Happy Meal when it came to this subject, you wished he would just listen to you. Just. Once.

“Look, I’ll find a local cleaning crew and get it all cleaned up.” You must have said that last part aloud without realizing it. “Where are you headed right now?”

“Where else? I’m looking for a church.” You came to a stoplight, turning your right blinker on as you waited for the color to change.    

“I still don’t—”

“Jensen, I swear, if you tell me you still don’t think ghosts are real and that you didn’t bring anything to my house after I specifically asked you not to…” You trailed off, unable to continue speaking because you were so pissed off. You had dishes, cups, and glasses to replace. You had to have all of your doors, their frames, your drawers and cabinets looked at. Based on what you had seen, your kitchen could be flooded in your absence or your house could burn down somehow. You were incredibly pissed — absolutely furious.

“Alright, I’m sending you a care package of Twizzlers,” he decided. “I think they even have Twizzler bouquets actually.” As if that would suddenly make everything okay in your world.

“Better not send it to the house. That is one thing I refuse to give up to the supernatural. Besides, are you seriously trying to bribe me with candy right now?”

“Uh, is it working?” 

Your jaw tightened. “There better be a lot and they better be huge.” 

A smirk settled on his face. “When you say huge—”

“Don’t,” you cut off the inevitable dirty joke. “I still have yet to decide whether I forgive you after being chased out of my house by a ghost who then proceeded to break all of my shit. A ghost that you brought there may I continue to remind you.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” He muttered. At your sharp glare, he suddenly changed his tune. “Okay, what can I do? Who do you want me to call? Do you want me to have my people reach out to the Zak guy and his people and put you in touch with his crew? Because I will if that’s what you want me to do.”

“Nope. I want you to say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know.” You quickly arched an expectant brow at him. “It’s the only thing that’s going to make me feel better right now.”

“Yeah, I’m not saying that.”

You heaved a long sad sigh for dramatic effect, shaking your head as you prepared to lay it on thick. “You don’t want to make me feel better? After everything I just went through because of you? That is a crying shame. C’est la vie. We had a good run, you and I. You had a genuine ROD right here.” You held a hand over your heart.

“Alright, alright,” he groaned. “Cut the dramatics. You’d think you were the one acting for a living.”

You gave him a triumphant smirk. “Say it.”

This time, he was the one who sighed heavily. “Are you sure the Twizzlers aren’t enough?”

“Nope.”

“Even if I get you one of those huge boxes from Amazon?” He asked knowingly. “And the rainbow ones?” Dammit. He knew you only too well.

“I’m still not letting you off the hook but like I said before, it better be a big one after the paranormal meltdown that just happened. We’re talking huge.” 

“Not even touching that one,” he laughed. “But don’t worry, it’ll be the biggest one you’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes which made him continue snickering. “Oh my God, why are we friends again?” You moved into the left lane as you began scanning the road, looking for any signs of a church nearby. You lived in this area, sure, but you weren’t exactly a regular visitor to any type of services. You took your Sundays to rest just like the good book said.

“Because I’m that lucky.”

You arched a brow at him. “First, bribery. Now, flattery. What’s next? Blackmail?”

“One of those things doesn’t sound like the others but far be it from me to point that out to you.”

You shot him a sharp look.

“Alright, listen, while we’ve been talking, I booked you a room at a hotel twenty minutes away. I’m sending your disgusting fake licorice crap there. I also looked up churches in the area. There’s one that’s about fifteen minutes out from the house. I’m sending you the address right now. And because I am the most awesome friend on the planet, I just texted Danneel and asked her to send you the psychic’s info who she worked with back in NOLA.” 

“You got all of that done in the last five minutes?” At his cocky smirk, you gave him a nod of approval. “Impressive.”

“Thank you. Now, I only have one question for you.” 

You arched your brows at him expectantly. 

“Am I forgiven yet?”

You had to think about that one for a moment. Your earlier fury had abated some the further away you got from your house but still, you had been chased out by some unseen force, unable to return until you got help to deal with this situation. But Jensen had also tried to be helpful and he had also been generous, patient, supportive, and overall kind while you had one of the truly most terrifying moments in your life thus far. 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I get this taken care of, will you let me smudge you before you walk into my house the next time you visit?”

Suddenly, a huge smile erupted onto his face. “You know, I’m really starting to think that phrasing is code for something else.” The teasing was back.

You rolled your eyes. “Nice try. You know it’s not code for anything except what I said. Now, no more deflecting. Are you willing to be smudged pre-entry?”

“Again, I—”

“Jensen Ross Ackles!” You could feel your cheeks heating up. Okay, yeah, your wording could use some work, not that you were about to admit that out loud. “Focus,” you hissed.

He snickered before letting out a sigh and shaking his head. “If it’ll make you feel better,” he capitulated. 

You gave him a nod, smiling triumphantly. “Good. I’m going to hold you to that. No pizza required by the way. And you are so lucky because I was going to say you’re not allowed past the door unless it’s half pineapple…”

His face screwed up in disgust. “Ugh.”

“And half mushroom.”

“Come on! Fruit and fungus on pizza? Why not just throw in some ranch dressing while you’re at it?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing how much those two toppings grossed him out. Which was precisely why you ordered them each time you two had pizza. Eventually, he started making you get your own pie to which you made sure he had to hear just how much you enjoyed every bite. “Got a big bottle of it in the fridge. Or at least I did.” You turned a glare on him.

“Okay, okay. Smudging. Got it. Are you on your way to the church?”

“Pulling in now,” you confirmed as you made a right turn into the church parking lot. “Thanks for that, by the way. And for everything else. You know, minus the pissy ghost.”

“You got it,” he chuckled. “Alright, text me when you’re done and let me know what they said.”

“Will do.” You brought the car to a stop and switched the ignition off. “And, Ackles?”

“Yeah?”

You just couldn’t resist getting in one last tease. “Fifteen years of fake ghost hunting and you didn’t tell me to grab salt once? That’s disappointing.”

He was now the one glaring which made you laugh. “Last I checked, someone didn’t think to grab the salt once either. For someone who watched the show for fifteen years, that’s disappointing.”

“Touche,” you laughed. “But wow, Dean didn’t come out at all? Not once?”

The eyeroll he unleashed made you snicker. “Don’t you have an appointment you need to be getting to?”

You stuck your tongue out at him and grabbed the phone. “Alright, Mr. Touchy Pants. I’ll talk to you after.”

“Touchy Pants?” He laughed. “Y/N, seriously, what is going through that heads of yours?”

“Goodbye,” you rushed out before disconnecting the call and cutting off his laughter. You shook your head and then glanced at the church in front of you. It had been a long time since you had been to one of these but your house had become Ghost Central now thanks to a certain six foot Red-Vine loving (which was still incomprehensible to you) Texan. You took a deep breath and then got out of the car, proceeding up the walkway to the entrance, hoping like hell that someone here would be able to perform some sort of cleansing ritual so you could get your house back. The season finale of House of the Dragon was on tonight after all and there was no way you were missing that on your huge TV with the movie theater sound system that you had saved up over a year for. Dick ghost or not. No way in hell.

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[wandering-winchesters]

Tragedy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,626 Summary: The reader is used to hunting solo, yet this solo hunt does not turn out quite like she had hoped. She is required to call on Dean and Sam after she is injured. Trigger Warnings: injury, firearms, blood, death. SPN level violence Requested: No A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I had fun writing it. Please let me know what you think. :)

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I let out a sigh, tossing my laptop onto the motel bed, frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. I had spent the last several hours searching through local records, looking for any deaths that fit the profile of the ghosty murderer floating around town, but nothing lined up. I wished Sam was here, he would’ve been incredibly helpful searching for an answer. But I had split off from them a couple weeks ago, returning to solo hunts, like the old days. They had both argued with me, tried to convince me to stay with them., but I had insisted on going off on my own again. I had to prove to myself that I still could, I felt as if I was slipping into a pit of dependance and a lack of self sufficiency. 

I had spent the last six months hunting with the two Winchester boys, helping them tackle numerous cases, which was nice. However, it terrified me how comfortable I was around them, I had told myself that I wouldn’t ever get too close to someone ever again. But with them, it was too easy to fall into comfortable dependency. Especially Dean. God, Dean Winchester. His eyes could pierce my soul if I let them, they appeal to me like a siren appeals to helpless sailors. I couldn’t resist him when I was around him, causing me to make stupid choices, I went with his gut over my own and it left me feeling helpless. It wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t doing anything intentionally, I just couldn’t help but fall further in love with the green eyed hunter every moment I spent with him. Which is exactly why I left, love had never come easy for me. I had lost my parents as a teenager and branched off on my own, evading the torment that would have greeted me had I gone to live with my Uncle. I never went to college, I hunted. Yet while on one of those hunts, I met Ian. Ian had been the love of my life, before he met an unfortunate end in a terrible car accident, eerily similar to the way my parents died. Death, followed me and those that I let in and loved. 

So I had sworn off love, friendship and anything else that let people into my life. That was until the two Winchesters had busted down the door to the old house, guns drawn, expecting to find me in the captivity of a werewolf den. Instead, they found me. My own weapon drawn, the body of a dead werewolf at my feet. I wish I had been recording that moment, the looks on their faces were utterly priceless. I had agreed to help them on one more hunt, that turned into three, which turned into six months worth. I was getting too comfortable and I just had to get out. That’s how I wound up alone in this motel, attempting to crack the case in this podunk town. I laid down on the musty motel bed, pushing my laptop onto the far side and leaving enough room for me to lay down. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling, following the trail they make and trying to distinguish where one starts and another one ends. Then it hits me, I have been looking in the wrong place this whole time. All of the deaths had occurred at the local bar and I had assumed it was a vengeful spirit, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was a, shit- what are they called? I grab my laptop hurriedly pulling up the lore I had been reading earlier, my eyes scanning the words quickly, skimming until I land on what I was looking for. A wraith. They had all died under mysterious circumstances, but they all had the same wound on their forehead. A small, circular incision. It had to be a wraith, but who was it? There was one bartender, he was my number one suspect. I glance at the clock, it’s not too late to go now. I ensure it is loaded with silver bullets before I tuck my gun into the holster, placing it at the small of my back and covering it with my leather jacket. I glance around my room once more making sure that I am not leaving anything behind. I send Sam a quick text, updating him as to my suspicions, he had texted me earlier in the day just checking in with me, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to keep him updated. 

The drive to the small little dive bar was short and uneventful. I checked to make sure my gun was still in place as I opened the door to the interior, the hinges in need of help judging by the loud shriek of protest they gave off as I opened it. I take in my surroundings, making note of the few people inside the bar. There were five, the bartender and four other customers not including myself. The bartender glances my way, gesturing that I can sit anywhere, he’s an unassuming man. His hair neat and well groomed, yet everything else about him is a mystery, we’ll call him blondie. I take a seat at the corner of the bar, my back to a wall and my field of view encompassing the majority of the room. 

“What can I get you?” He asks, setting a coaster down in front of me. I consider him carefully, trying to determine if he was a threat. I order a beer and a water, fully prepared to sit back and wait everyone else out. The television is the loudest sound in the bar, conversations around me hushed and sparse. Most people too focused on their drinks or the television to be deep in conversation. That’s how the next hour goes, I sip my beer and observe the people around me, watching and waiting. I pull out my phone and see a text and a missed call.

    -Missed call, 9:53 P.M. Sam Winchester 

    -10:13 P.M., From Dean Winchester- Sammy said you found a wraith? Want some backup? They can be tricky bastards. 

An unconscious smile pricks my lips, the concern in his text obvious. I respond with a brief thanks, but no thanks and send Sammy another text asking if everything is okay. 

A few of the other people in the room had left by this point, leaving just myself, the blonde man behind the bar and one other guy, who appeared to be in his mid thirties. I drained the last sip of my beer, setting the bottle down on the surface of the bar. I rolled my shoulders back, my upper back starting to ache from the lack of support provided by the stool that I had been sitting on for the last while. I am taken aback by another beer being set down in front of me, I hadn’t ordered it. The confusion must be clear on my face, because the bar tender gestures to the man a few seats away from me. “It’s from him.” Blondie says, a small smile pulling at his features, which confuses me further. I glance once more to the one other customer in the bar and I find his eyes are already fixed on me, dark and focused. 

“Thanks.” I mutter, raising my beer towards him, suspicion heavy in my voice. For whatever reason, this rubs me the wrong way. The environment in the room had changed and every bone in my body was screaming danger. My gut said this was about to get bad. 

“I figured you deserved another beer before you meet your accidental death. We knew you were a hunter from the second you pulled into town. It’s a pity, you’re too pretty to die this young. Too bad.”  His words hit me like a brick to the face, my eyes close and I take a deep breath. This was it, it wasn’t one wraith it was two. In that moment, I regretted leaving the safety of numbers. Had Sam and Dean been here, it would’ve been three to two. Not two to one, with me on the losing team. I blink once more, taking one more deep breath, the kind that makes your lungs scream from too much oxygen and I hurl my beer bottle at the bartenders head. This action buying me a few seconds, enough to get off the stool and anchor my feet on the old wooden floor. Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough. Blondie had stumbled back from the impact of my beer smacking off the side of his head, however that had given the other wraith the opportunity to close the distance between us. His fist collided with the corner of my jaw he then proceeded to throw me into the hard surface of the bar. I grunt, the sheer force that he had thrown me with enough to knock the air out of my lungs. This hunt was about to go down terribly, I could handle one wraith on my own, but two? I don’t know if I could manage to take out both of them. I can already feel the throbbing in my jaw from his blow and I am dreading how I will feel in the morning, if I make it to the morning. I rest my elbows on the bar top, using my momentum to kick my feet into his chest and send him flying backwards. I use the gap I have created to pull my gun from the waistband of my pants, aim and fire a silver bullet right between his eyes. He drops, dead weight. 

“NO! You’re going to pay for that, you bitch!” Blondie yells, his eyes trained on his friend who had just fallen, dead, to the floor of the bar. I turn to face him, my gun pointed directly at him. He snarls, his attention turned towards me. For whatever reason, I hesitate, my finger doesn’t pull the trigger and I don’t end him. A complete mistake, he closes the distance between us faster than I can comprehend and sends my gun clattering to the floor. His hands shoving me backwards, causing me to stumble and fall to the floor. It happens in a matter of seconds, seconds I cannot even process. My gun is no longer in my hands, but it is clutched in his grip. He points it towards me and fires, it hits me directly in the side. A scream leaves my lips, but I don’t have time to process what just happened because his body is now on top of mine, his anger clear and pulsating through him. My hands come up to defend my face, pushing him away with all of my strength, but he is stronger.  I wrap my fingers around his wrist, knowing what is to follow. The spike in his wrist is already extended and it is clear that he intends to send it straight through my skull. 

“Any last words?” He asks, his mouth set into a sneer, his fingers just brushing my forehead preparing to send the spike through my forehead. 

I grit my teeth, every nerve in my body screaming, adrenaline pumping and thoughts rushing through me. I laugh, bitter and cold and It catches him off guard. That slight hesitation is all I need to get the upper hand, I slide my hand up from where I was gripping his arm. I grab onto the spike extended from his wrist and wrench it backwards with all of my strength, effectively breaking it in two. His scream sends shivers down my spine, the spike still clutched tightly in my fist. I pull the knife from where I keep it hidden around my neck and drive it through his skull, much like he had intended to do to me. His full weight falls onto me and I cry out in pain, his body crushing the oxygen out of my lungs and the bullet wound in my side is throbbing like no other. I manage to slide out from underneath of him, slowly and agonizingly. I scoot myself backwards towards the wall, finally reaching it and I slump back against it. I look down at the hand I had pressed to the gun shot wound on my side and wince, it’s not a pretty sight. Crimson has soaked through the white t-shirt I was wearing, a lot of blood by the looks of it. My head is spinning, either from blood loss or the blow to the head, I wasn’t sure which one. I cover my mouth as a coughing fit wracks my body and when I pull my hand away there are traces of blood there too. Fuck. This really wasn’t good. Before I could even register what I was doing, I had pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Dean. He picks up on the second ring. 

“How’s it going sweetheart? Did you change your mind about wanting help with the wraiths?” He asks, his tone cheery, I can hear the roar of the Impala in the background and it brings a slight smile to my face. I must have remained silent for longer than I thought because Dean speaks again, his voice serious and concern flecked throughout. “Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Mmm, I took out the wraiths, but they got me good too. Any chance you’re nearby?” I groan, trying to reposition myself in such a way that I can apply better pressure to the wound in my side. I can hear the Impala accelerating, as Dean responds. “Shit. We are twenty minutes out from town, figured we’d surprise you. Where’s the bar?” I manage to give him brief directions, doing my best to recall where exactly I was. 

“I’m so tired Dean.” I whisper, the phone beginning to slip from my hand and away from my ear. 

“Hey, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You stay with me, talk to me. I am almost there sweetheart.” He responds and I can hear the panic rising in his voice but its too late. Every breath is a battle, holding my phone to my ear is impossible. The amount of strength it requires is simply too much. I watch as it clatters to the floor, my eyes slowly blinking shut. I slump forward, the world around me fading into black. 

—

I vaguely notice voices, irritating voices drawing me back towards consciousness. I try my damndest to ignore them, the more I focus on them the greater the pain is flowing through my body. I hear my name being yelled, my shoulders behind jostled and my body being laid flat on a hard wooden surface. My head is placed onto something soft and I take that as permission to sleep. Yet I don’t get to do that, hands grab my face pulling me back into consciousness. 

“Y/N, hey, oh thank God, look at me Y/N.” Dean is leaning over me grim faced, his hand pressed tightly against my rips holding something against it. I wince, trying to pull his hand away but he stops me. Sam’s face swims into view as well, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Dean.” I sigh, my voice weak and seemingly coming from someone other than myself. “Doesn’t seem too bad, does it?” I ask, laughing slightly before grimacing from the pain that causes. His face is pale, eyes searching for the answer to my question, he doesn’t have to answer, I know it doesn’t look good. 

“Im going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.” He says, lifting my shirt so he can tie the bandage around me as tight as he can. He picks me up, a yell leaving my lips in the process. I can hear him whispering reassurances and apologies as he carries me out to the Impala. It all feels like a dream, as if I am watching from above as all of this happens. I drift in and out of the darkness the entire car ride, the whole way into the motel room. Until eventually, it all fades to black once again. 

—

“I don’t know what else to do Sammy, the bullet went all of the way through. We stopped the bleeding and stitched her up. But that was hours ago! She still hasn’t woken back up.” Deans voice sounds nearby, anxious and completely grating on my nerves at the moment.

“Would you shut up! ‘M trying to sleep here.” I groan, the throbbing of my nerves returning like a wave of pain rushing over me. I hear a flurry of movement, before the bed sinks down next to me and I can feel a hand rest against the side of my face. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the harsh lighting a stark comparison to the darkness of sleep I was used to. When my eyes his, he falls apart. Tears spring to his eyes and he breaks down before my very eyes. His mouth opens and closes multiple times, searching for something, anything to say. 

“Dean, Im okay.” I whisper, my voice raspy and aching in my throat. He shakes his head, his eyes still trained on my own. 

“You weren’t, we almost lost you so many times Y/N.” His words sink in slowly, understanding for his reaction lands on me in droves. 

“I’m sorry I worried you. Thank you for getting to me in time.” I reach my hand up and touch the side of his face, surprised when he leans into my touch. 

“He made the twenty minute drive into an eight minute one.” Sam says, and for the first time I realize that he’s sitting in the chair a couple of feet from the bed. I chuckle lightly, unsurprised, Dean was always able to drive way too fast when he needed to, a talent almost. 

We spend the next few hours talking, questions being thrown at me from every angle. I do my best to answer them, but exhaustion quickly settles in. Sam notices and mentions to Dean that they should let me get some sleep, there’s a slight argument over who will stay with me. Much to my surprise, Dean is insistent upon staying himself. Sam gives me a quick hug and excuses himself from the room, which leaves Dean and I alone. Oh so alone. It wasn’t the first time we had shared a room, but it felt completely different this time. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us, neither one of us wanting to be the one that breaks it. I shift my body, trying to prop myself up further in bed. A decision I regret as soon as I flex the wrong muscle and am greeted by a screaming pain in my side. I throw my head back, my mouth opening in a silent yell. Deans hands are on me in an instant, helping me settle into a more comfortable position. I give him a grateful smile and expect the silence to continue, but it doesn’t. 

“You’re never doing this again, you hear me? You’re only ever hunting with us from now on. I could’t bear it when I found you like that and I definitely couldn’t bear it if it ever happened again.” Dean says quietly, his eyes trained on the floor. I’m quiet for a minute, considering my response carefully, unsure where his words were coming from. Dean wasn’t controlling, so it wasn’t that. Concern was evident, but I didn’t think that was enough to spur him to make that declaration. 

“Dean, I am really okay. It was a bad turn of events, but I have been hunting for years on my own and I made it this far. You don’t need to worry about me, ill be-“ He cuts me off, his voice raised and his hands running through his already disheveled hair. 

“You don’t get it, do you? Ever since that night, six months ago, I have worried about you. I care about you, Y/N, so worrying comes with the territory. For a time, I thought you cared about me in that way. But then you left. You just left and I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I followed after you, not wanting something to happen to you and thank god I did.” His words leave me speechless, did he mean what I think he means? Before I can protest or respond in anyway, he’s walking over to me. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning towards me. His hand comes to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me towards him ever so slightly. He leans in, his face nearing my own and my eyes flutter shut. His nose brushes my own, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 

“ I love you, Y/N and nearly losing you, made me realize that I couldn’t keep that to myself any longer. Fear in the face of tragedy and all of that.” He mumbles, his lips nearly brushing against my own as he speaks. I don’t think, I just act. I close the distance and press my lips against his own, dissolving into the kiss and I can tell he does too. His warmth envelopes me entirely, his lips, his touch, everything. When I finally pull away, my head is spinning. His words rushing through my mind, over and over again. “I love you too, Dean.” I whisper, smiling gently and I press another kiss to his lips. “Fear in the face of tragedy, how poetic.” 

[zairene]

reconciliation, izuku midoriya x black female reader

synopsis: after breaking up with izuku midoriya, he stands at your doorstep months later seeking the care that you once had given him.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: a rewritten & improved version of a fic i wrote on my old page before i deleted it. i tried revising parts that i couldn’t remember but think of this as the better version of the last one. could be turned into a mini series to rebuild their relationship, if this does well enough that is. + not proofread, mistakes might be here and there

SOMEHOW, SOMETIME AGAIN, izuku finds himself right in front of your apartment complex. the bruises and scars on his skin submerged his body as if he were drowning. and the only thing that could possibly be racing through his mind is you. all the time that you both spent apart only made him realize how dependent he had became on how much you cared about him.

things didn’t work out between you two. izuku had the tendency to put his life in great peril in order to shield his loved ones from the reality of the world surrounding them. however, the idea that his life being taken away from him would cause a greater impact on the people he loved, and that it wouldn’t be seen as a heroic act but more so an unfortunate circumstance. once he came to the realization that being prone to making sacrifices wasn’t healthy, he had to go on the journey regain self control. to assist him in becoming fully aware of his worth as a person.

he seemed to not know that his life matters too. and you breaking up with him made him notice his damaging lifestyle. he had learned that it’s okay to make sacrifices, but also to think about how it would affect those around him. would his life being lost solve all the problems that were present or create more?

this brings him back to the present.

the loud crack of thunder had made him flinch, and gave him the ability to make his way to your front door. he held his head down and his arms swung by his side. he felt embarrassed. he felt stupid. it had been months since you both last talked. why would you open your house to him after everything he’s put you through?

his left hand balled into a fist, ready to knock on your door. as soon as he did, he stood waiting. seconds later, the door opened and there you stood. his eyes landed on your figure. your eyes had bags under them, your hand was fiddling with your bonnet which was slipping slightly. you froze in your spot, taking in the sight. you didn’t expect to see the man you broken up with back on your doorstep at 2 in the mornings.

“oh my god…” the only words you could seem to verbalize out before ushering him into your house. you sat him down on your couch, going to grab bandages and the appropriate medicine to help him heal even after he left your house. you came back to see that he had made himself more comfortable yet still having a troubling look on his face.

you sit down quiet close next to him setting everything in your hand on the table in front of him. you began to take care of his wounds. you scanned his body, searching for wounds you could treat successfully so he could go to a clinic for the worst ones that may require antibiotics for how deep the stab wounds were.

your started to wipe blood off of his hands and fingers and around the cuts of his wounds, wrapping it with bandages. you both hadn’t said a word, he just sat in the still of the place you considered a home.

“i shouldn’t be doing this to you,” izuku said. you look at him and sigh with uncertainty. you didn’t know how to respond to a statement like that. “this isn’t your responsibility. i’m still wondering why you even helped me.” he continued.

“i still feel obligated to help you, midoriya. i can’t turn you away looking like this, no matter what time it is.” his heart ached at you using his last name, the last time you both were involved you were on a first name basis. now it felt like the both of you were back at square one.

“i can’t help but feel guilty.”

“for what? needing help? that’s my job.” to you, he sounded absolutely ridiculous right now.

“no, for taking advantage of the fact i need help to get you to talk to me now.” you were stunned. in a way, he was right. but you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. it return back to his reticent attitude. trying not to make the situation as bad as it already felt. you were finally done with the things you could treat. to the rest he was on his own, he didn’t mind as most of his pain went away. maybe it was the adrenaline. maybe he just didn’t care about it at the moment. he didn’t even know himself.

he muttered a measly thank you, as he walked past you, ready to leave your house assuming that you didn’t want him there. you bit your lip, thinking about speaking. his hands fiddled with your doorknob but then he finally got a grip on it. the sound of your door opening had triggered your body to turn around.

“izuku, wait.” he stopped, and closed your door again, avoiding rain to get inside your house. he looked back at you. you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around him, giving him a hug.

at first, he was stiff. he didn’t hug back, he was more surprised than anything. not at the fact you used his first name again but that you hugged him. all the feelings that he managed to push away came rushing back in that one moment. tears pricked at his waterline and his arms wrapped around yours. he squeezed you slightly.

“i still care about you, m’kay?” you whispered into his ear, his head nodded in response. you pulled back to see that he had a few tears running down his face. he looked away in embarrassment as red hues coated his face. you chuckled slightly, putting both of your hands on his cheeks. you used your thumb to wipe his tears away.

“i’m not mad at you. i never was. i just… get worried about your well-being sometimes.” he nodded.

“i know. me too.” a smile came on his face.

“stay safe. and remember i’m here for you regardless of anything we went through. alright?”

“alright.” you both shared a brief hug again before he left your house. you felt a huge weight had been lifted off of your heart. sure, a long talk between you both was was long overdue. but knowing that you both were on speaking terms again gave you some hope for the future.

TAGLIST FORM

[cookies-over-yonder]

i don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend

Five times Taylor and Link almost kissed, and one time they finally did.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 | ao3

[title from Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers]

1. The first time was after a fall.

☆

Taylor Swift is no stranger to coordination issues.

He manages to work his way around them with extra practice of wielding weapons, but sometimes it sneaks up on him.

Like right now.

Seemingly having tripped over nothing, Taylor falls forward and braces himself for impact.

The floor of Link's house is wooden, so Taylor can't even console himself by the idea of falling onto carpet. How did he slip? He doesn't know. It just happens. Sometimes no amount of training and practicing can prevent the air from sabotaging him.

And he knows it will hurt, because the floor is hard and it always hurts. It always hurts, but he recovers. But before he recovers, he's going to faceplant. He scrunches his face up, ready to hit the ground.

But then he stays suspended in the air.

"Are you okay?"

Taylor opens his eyes. Link is holding him by the arms and scanning his face with wide eyes.

Wide eyes… that are so close to his face.

Taylor feels a rush of heat coursing through him as he runs his gaze down Link's worried face, stopping at his lips.

They're pressed tightly together in concern, and then they're open, and saying something…

And Link is breathing, and Taylor can feel it on his face.

And Link says his name, and with the way the syllables sound on his tongue, Taylor feels like he's been put under a spell. 

Hypnotized.

Enchanted.

And he says it again, and it's just as mesmerizing as before.

They're so close together. Only a sliver of space prevents them from making contact.

There's one thought plaguing Taylor's mind and making him feel like he could melt.

What it would feel like to close that gap…

Taylor finds his body moving without his permission, chasing the pull of Link's lips like a magnet.

"Taylor!" Link shouts, and Taylor's shoulders are shaking. Link is shaking them.

"Hu—uh… yeah?" Taylor asks, dazed. The gap is wider now—Link must have made him stand upright.

"I asked if you were okay and you didn't respond," Link's lips move fast. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

Taylor's face burns.

"I—uh, I'm fine—" he winces at the way his voice cracks. "Sorry. Thanks."

"You should sit down," Link says, guiding him to the couch, hands still on his shoulders. "I'll get you some water."

"Mm, yeah," Taylor says, only half-processing Link's words because his hands are still on his shoulders…

Once Link sits Taylor down and leaves his side to get water, Taylor buries his face in his hands. God, he really is burning.

"Here," Link says, sitting next to him. Taylor lifts his head and sees a glass of water being held out to him. He takes a sip.

"Thanks. Sorry, didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's fine, I just wanna make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay. I have coordination problems sometimes. That's why I tripped. I'm not gonna faint or anything."

Probably not, he thinks. With the way Link is looking at him, nothing is off the table.

"Okay. Just… drink some water," Link says, and Taylor takes a sip. "You look really red."

Taylor chokes.

"Slowly," Link adds, patting Taylor's back as he coughs up water.

"Yep," Taylor says between coughs. "Got it."

Oh, god.

☆

[blindmagdalena]

Hii, how are you? If you aren't too busy could I request the reader saying at least one of these phrases to Homelander?

❛ i’m yours - you know it. ❜, ❛ the odd thing is that I’m in love with you anyhow. ❜, ❛ it’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful. ❜, ❛ I wouldn’t change you for the world. ❜, ❛ it’s because I love you, dear— ❜.

ofc you can, my dear!!! ends happy, promise. ♥ It all happened so quickly, you're not sure you can even comprehend what it was. All you're truly aware of is a numb, tingly kind of sensation prickling your skin from the chest down, and the warm copper tang of blood in your mouth.

Strong arms hoist you up from the ground. You can feel hot puffs of air on your wet cheek. The world around you looks to be under water, wet and bleary. Everything sounds muffled, but after a moment, you're able to make out words, and a familiar voice. "No, no, no, no," Homelander murmurs, holding you against his chest firm, but delicate, terrified that you will shatter the rest of the way. "Hey, hey, look at me, you're alright, it's gonna be just fine," he tells you, though the panic in his voice tells you he's trying to convince himself as much as he is you. He's scanning your body, assessing the degree of injury, and whether or not he can move you without killing you. He's got tears in his eyes. You've never seen him cry before. "Don't go," he whispers fervently, panic rising. "Stay with me. Stay, stay, please—"

"I'm here," you say, snapping his attention up to your eyes. You smile as best you can, swallowing what tastes like a mouthful of pennies. "I'm here, John." He's so afraid, and distantly you think that you should be, too, but it's so much easier to focus on comforting him instead. "I'm yours. You know it."

Homelander makes a noise like you've gutted him. "I'm sorry," he chokes, like the words are too big for his throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

You've never heard him apologize, either. It must be bad. There's a slight jostle that shoots pain all the way up your spine. You gasp, which makes you cough. John holds you firm against him. He's taking you somewhere.

"It's okay," you soothe, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the ache radiating through you. You're starting to feel cold, and that's when you begin to think that you don't have very much time left. You've never been cold in his arms before. Never.

Wind whips at your skin, and you know that you're flying. The view below you is probably spectacular. Before John, you'd only ever imagined seeing sights like that from a screen, or behind the window of a plane. Not with him. John showed you the world through the eyes of a god, while you reminded him the importance of his humanity.

You muster every ounce of strength you have to touch his face, where a stray tear has slipped down his cheek. He looks so determined in this moment, despite the panic-stricken twist of his features. You know it would be a terrible thing to ask of him, but you kind of wish that he was smiling. That would be a nice image to leave on.

"Hey," you call softly, voice little more than a croak. The ferocity of the winds doesn't matter, he can hear you. He's always listened so intently for you. He looks down at you almost reluctantly, gritting his teeth. You smile. "It's been very rare to have known you," you say, and though your voice cracks, weak in your own ears, you mean every word with vehemence. "Very strange and wonderful."

John speaks, but regrettably, you can't understand it. The wind is too loud in your ears. It almost disguises the gradually building ring that you can hear, the sound swelling up so loudly that soon enough, it's all you can hear. It swallows your vision, too, black creeping in at the edges like choking shadows.

You think he's yelling at you, and though you wish more than anything you could answer him, you can't hold on any longer. The cold becomes too much, and you finally sink beneath the surface of consciousness, his face burned into your mind like an after-image.

Everything is so... bright. It's difficult to open your eyes. There's a persistent buzz humming deep in your ears, but even louder and more jarring than that is the steady beeps. You blink again and again, each time the world around you becoming less stark white. You no longer taste or smell wet pennies, just overly sterile air.

Oh, you think. You know this place. Hospital.

Amidst all the harsh white and fluorescent light, a shock of color catches your attention. The beeping of the monitor follows the beat of your heart as it kicks up at the sight of red, white and blue poised at your bedside.

Homelander exhales shakily, halfway between a smile and a grimace, visibly overwhelmed. "Hey, buddy," you rasp. The absurdity of it startles a huff of a laugh from John, incredulousness now fighting alongside the relief and turmoil in his expression.

"Buddy?" He echoes skeptically. He's holding your hand, you realize. Tight, but not too tight. There's a minute tremble in it. "That's what you're going with?"

"Brain's a little empty," you say. Your voice sounds strange in your own ears, rough with disuse. You're not sure how long you've been out.

His relief falters at that. You can see guilt twist up in him immediately, a familiar beast that has been eating him from the inside out this whole time. "It's my fault," he confesses, voice quieter than you've ever heard it, gut-wrenching in his grief. "I should've— I should've been faster, I don't... understand how this happened, I was so—"

"John," you croak, smiling weakly. "We're here now. That's what matters, right?"

Homelander's shoulders sag. He looks utterly defeated by your unrelenting assurance, but so too does he seem baffled by it. "Why?" He asks quietly, timid, as if he's afraid to know the answer. "How can... How can you still want to comfort me after what happened to you? I f— I fucking failed you." He thinks it must be the shock, or the medication. Maybe you're still delirious. You'll come to your senses, and that's when you'll realize it.

He's a funny little guy, you think. You exhale a weak little laugh. "I think it's pretty obvious," you say, stroking his hand as best you can with your thumb. "It's because I love you, dear." Disarmed and without riposte, John sinks down into you, resting his head as gently as he dares atop your chest. "Thank you," he whispers, so quiet you barely catch it. It sounds and feels exactly like I love you, too.

You manage to put your hand on his head, your eyes falling shut with relief of your own. It's all going to be alright, in the end. You'll prove it to him.

[chriscrosswallflower-blog]

we're not brave, we're not soldier - chapter 5

Chapter 4

DOA part 2

(TW for panic attacks and PTSD)

Even with five powerful demigods it still took nearly an hour to slay the monsters that had invaded the camp. Percy breathed heavily, shaking monster dust out of his hair as he made his way to Annabeth.

“Did they get to the girl in time?” Annabeth could only shrug.

“I’m not sure, I saw Will and Kayla carry her off the field.”

“Well, if anyone could save her it would be Will.” Percy said quietly, leaning into Annabeth as she snaked her arm around his waist and gently led him to the infirmary. She could feel the tension and worry radiating off of her boyfriend. They had both seen the girl briefly and Annabeth was surprised she was even alive when Will got to her. It looked like the poor thing had nearly been torn in half. It was enough to make even the strongest of warriors feel queasy and she wasn’t sure that any of them could handle another death right now.

The first thing that she noticed when she entered the infirmary was that it looked like the floor was painted red. Kayla stood in the middle of it all, furiously scrubbing down a gurney with a pink cloth. There were shell shocked demi-gods throughout the med bay - sitting on their cots in silence, whispering to friends, or loudly sobbing.

“Percy, Annabeth!” Kayla cried as she saw the pair walk in. She rushed to meet them, reaching for a hug before she realized her scrubs were soaked in blood.

“Have you seen Will?” She asked in a rush, voice trembling.

“He’s not here?” Percy asked, a wave of anxiety crashing into him when frustrated tears began to make their way down Kayla’s face.

“I don’t know! After the girl…after I called time of death Austin and I tried to calm everyone down and start cleaning up but by the time we realized that Will wasn’t with us we couldn’t find him! Austin’s doing rounds now but he still hasn’t found him and it’s been like 20 minutes! And I wanted to go find him but I have to disinfect the med bay and…”

“Kayla, it’s okay! We’ll go and make sure everything is alright.” Annabeth said, cutting the girl off with a squeeze to the shoulder. Kayla took a deep breath and nodded.

“Thanks. Can you just…let me know when you find him? Everything has been really hard lately and he took the girl’s death really hard. I’m just…worried.” Percy nodded, feeling like his heart may crack in two as he watched the powerful archer shrink in on herself, looking every bit of eleven years old.

The couple made their way through the infirmary, checking every nook and cranny but couldn’t find the head healer. That was until Percy remembered a conversation that the two had after that night in the woods and led them to a supply closet in the very back of the building. He put his ear to the door and sure enough, he heard soft cries coming from inside. He looked to Annabeth, relief flooding him as she immediately understood, nodding before she headed off to find Kayla.

Despite his own anxiety, he felt a warm rush of affection for the girl who knew him as well as he knew himself. He’d never understand how he got so lucky.

Percy steeled himself before cracking the door open, worried that he didn’t have the tools to deal with this but knowing he had to try. He slipped in through the crack, closing the door softly behind him so no one had the chance to snoop.

“Will?” He whispered, his eyes scanning the closet. He could still hear those soft muffled cries but didn’t immediately see the boy. Eventually he found him, curled up in a tight ball and squished between the wall and a large filing cabinet. They met eyes for just a moment before Will hid his face in embarrassment, but what he saw took his breath away.

Will’s yellow scrubs and hands were covered in sticky blood, which he had spread to his face and hair. His face was far too pale except his flushed cheeks, which blazed from exertion as he struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling quickly but constricted by how tightly he had balled himself up in the corner. Percy’s heart ached as he sank down to his knees, reaching out in an attempt to comfort the boy but Will quickly flinched away.

“No, please, please don’t touch me! I’m disgusting, I can’t do anything right…I can’t…I couldn’t save anyone!” He cried, sobs racking his frame violently as he hid his face in his knees, his hands pulling desperately at his hair.

“Hey, no that’s not true! It wasn’t your fault.” Percy whispered, but it seemed like his words weren’t reaching his friend as he continued to mutter vile things about himself. He felt his stomach turn as he had to physically sit on his hands to prevent himself from reaching out to try to provide some kind of comfort.

He might have known it was only a matter of time before the head healer crashed as he tried to be everything for everyone, but seeing the extent of the boy’s anguish was unnerving. Will was usually the one providing comfort but now that the tables had turned, and Percy found himself at a loss. His head spun as he tried to think of something, anything he could do to help but nothing came to him.

He had never felt so useless in his life.

“Will, hey, you know I'm not very good at this and I'm not sure what to do here but I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.Just…just try to breathe with me, okay?” He said, remembering the exaggerated breathing exercises that Will had taken him through just a few weeks ago. He couldn’t remember the exact numbers or anything so he just tried to breathe loud and slow.

It took a while, but eventually Will let go of his hair, his head lolling toward the wall as his strength rapidly depleted. His breaths still came hard and fast, but they had evened out and he was slowly coming back to reality. He felt like he was underwater, everything he heard and saw distorted by waves of dizziness. He squinted at the figure in front of him, finally making out sea blue eyes and olive skin.

“Percy…wha…you shouldn’t be here…” He slurred, his stomach clenching painfully as he realized the boy had been watching him fall apart. He reached out to softly push him away but the other boy just caught his hand and held it tightly.

“Yeah, no, there’s no way i’m leaving you like this.” Percy said, narrowing his eyes as Will tried to shyly convince him that he was fine even in the midst of one of the worst panic attacks he’d ever seen. Percy knew what it meant to be the strong one, to take care of others but feel like a massive inconvenience and failure when it all became too much. It’s part of what led to his own panic attack in the woods and eventually breaking down in Annabeth’s arms a few days later.

“Hey, can you look at me?” He asked, squeezing the boy’s hand tightly. It seemed to take ages but eventually Will met his eyes, the shame practically pouring off of him.

“If you really want me to go, I will. But you don’t deserve to deal with this alone. If I leave you like this I…I don’t know that I could ever forgive myself. So please, please let me help?” Percy whispered, watching as the boy’s walls tumbled down and he was left with this raw, painful vulnerability. Will made a small, desperate sound in the back of his throat, unable to get anything else out. Percy chose to take it as an agreement.

“Come on, you can’t be able to breathe well like that and you look like you’re about to pass out. Let’s lay down here.” Percy said, gently coaxing Will out of his corner and getting him to lay down, softly encouraging him to unlock his muscles until he was laying flat on his back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, moving to lay beside him. Will shook his head desperately, his sobs coming a bit quicker at the thought of reliving everything.

“Okay, okay that’s no problem. Umm, is it okay if I put your hand on my chest?” Percy asked, feeling unsure and overwhelmed that he might do something wrong. After a few minutes, Will nodded and he put their clasped hands on his chest, breathing slowly and deeply.

They stayed like that for nearly half an hour, Will’s sobs eventually slowing to sniffles and his breathing evening out. Eventually, Percy heard the boy’s breaths slow drastically, letting him know he was sleeping. He sat up, watching his face for a few minutes to make sure he was really asleep, but even though his face was flushed and covered with tear tracks and smears of dried blood, he looked nearly peaceful. Percy felt a huge weight lift off of his own shoulders, thankful that he hadn’t screwed up too badly.

Percy slowly carried Will back to the healer’s break room, trying not to wake him. When he nudged the door open with his foot, he found Kayla, Austin, and Annabeth all waiting anxiously. Kayla began to rush to them but Percy shook his head, nodding to her sleeping brother. Her eyes got impossibly soft as she went to get a blanket, draping it over him as Percy laid him down on their lumpy couch.

All four kept vigil for the four hours that Will slept, Kayla and Austin only leaving briefly to do their rounds. When he woke, the five would talk. Somehow even more tears would be shed and Chiron would make his way in, doing his best to treat their survivors' guilt - something that was long overdue. But for now, they just sat in silence, thankful for the brief moment of peace.

Chapter 6

[sugarfluffandallthatgoodstuff]

HMBAUChapter 2: The Start and End of  an Era

I just decided that instead of trying to stay mid-pack and drag out the running on a torture rack I would just sprint this enormous 0.7 mile lap and get over it

But it seems my lovely woodwind captain had other plans

Because now instead of being middle-front he was now next to me

“Wow Y/N-chan you’re running quite fast! Maybe you should slow down a little.”

“No can do Oikawa-san I’m just trying to get done”

“I think you’re not understanding me. I’m telling you that you need to slow down. Non-negotiable ok?”

I couldn’t believe my ears! Was he jealous of my running fast or something?

“I don’t understand why you’d say that”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt ok? So please just slow down a little”

“If it makes you happy then sure”

So I slowed down 

but he didn’t leave

“Soooo Y/N-chan how does it feel to be 5th chair in SWC? I’m actually surprised based on the way you played last year that you weren’t in a higher ensemble!”

“Ah well I think maybe the band director made a typo and accidentally wrote my name instead when he meant to put Michimiya since we all know she’s really good and wanted this for a long time, so to answer your question I don’t feel like I’m meant to be there”

“Ah classic impostor syndrome! Don’t worry Y/N-chan even if you don’t feel worthy now I’ll personally see to it that you become the player you want to be! And besides I heard your audition and thought it was SWC calliber!”

“Wait you heard my audition?!?”

“Of course! I always want to hear the section auditions and actually am given some imput on who goes where!”

And with that our lap was done

Shit I didn’t even get to ask him what he meant

And now we have to do the stupid laying on the ground stretches so now I can’t ask him what he meant until at least lunch break

God why can’t we just learn drill instead?

TIMEYWIMEY SKIIIIIIIIPP

“Already everyone good Visual Block! Enjoy your lunch and remember Brass is in the gym and Woodwinds are in the Multipurpose Room for music block!” Daichi said while packing up the metronome

I knew I didn’t bring anything for lunch 

Now I just needed to hide from my section in a hidden notch in the school’s quad

Which was almost successful

But of course god decided to be like “lol no!”

Because now Bokuto was across me

“Hey hey hey whatcha got for lunch? I was kinda hoping I could try whatever you had”

“O-oh Bokuto-san I didn’t see you there! I uh-may have accidentally um forgot my lunch… but it’s ok! I’ll be fine”

Nice

Or not

“Damn what a bummer! Come on, I'll get you something! Besides how could you even expect to survive out here with how hot it is?!” he said as he helped me up and took me to the air conditioned gym

“OH GUUUUYS~ SOMEONE FORGOT HER LUUUUUNCH!” damn you Bokuto

“Y/N-chan! How could you forget something so important?! I’ll give you some of my milkbread! And no you may not refuse” Oikawa had chimed in almost immediately after Bokuto said that

And of course Bokuto brought me to where he usually sits with all his leader and brass friends were

And he knew all 3 of my leaders were good friends of his and he wanted to make sure no one slipped through the cracks

Too bad for him that I managed to slip under his radar all of last year

But that was then and this is now 

“I can give you some gatorade and a banana. You really should be on top of your electrolytes while working as hard as we do” Kuroo said while scanning me up and down like he was trying to remember who I was but couldn’t quite put a finger on it 

And this circle of people included Osamu, Sugawara, Kuroo, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, Yaku, Daichi, Kita, and Bokuto

So literally the worst people to try and be sneaky with

“So what were you planning to bring for lunch Y/N? Or were you planning and ran out of time?” Sugawara asked suspiciously

“I h-had a plan but had no time to execute said plan”

“That didn’t answer Suga-chan’s question Y/N-chan” Oikawa pointed out while keeping a strong gaze on me

“...a baby apple and a little bit of peanut butter…” I whispered softly

“Could you say that a bit louder please Ms.Y/N?”

“I s-said a baby apple and a little bit of peanut butter…” damn it now they know I wasn’t planning to eat fucking anything that would satisfy their weird standards of meal quality for people

Osamu looked like he was about to faint and the others audibly gasped at my response

“That’s it, we are now in charge of your band camp meals. Sorry Y/N but you’re at our mercy now and you get to have no say and yes this means we will all be making your breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the duration of camp. No buts or exceptions.”

AND THIS WAS COMING FROM FUCKING IWAIZUMI WHO WASN’T EVEN EVER NEAR ME OR EVEN I’M SURE KNEW ME

I stood there shocked as Bokuto and Kuroo helped me to sit down as the others piled some food onto a spare paper plate and set it in front of me 

“I-I c-can’t accept this! It’s too m-much of a burden on you all!”

“Nonsense! Sometimes I have extras and it’s better for it not to be wasted going into the trash right?” Yaku said to me smiling as he prepared the first bite

Little had I known

This was the end of my hermit-hood

[spinchs-field]

violents or something?

warning; semi-graphic descriptions of violence, guns, and severe injury

Hope knew she was fine out here. After all, she could not die, nobody in her bloodline could. She was fine, but she was scared. No, not scared, just worried. Anyone could attack her for any reason. That is reason enough to be worried. 

But, she digresses. She just needs to gather some supplies and go back home. Easy! 

She crept through the streets, silent and empty. There were a handful of small experiments scuttling about, but nothing too threatening. 

She managed to make it to the store, scanning the shelves and reminding herself of the current date. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was someone restocking these stores. Who, she did not know, but she was grateful either way. 

She grabbed as much food and drinks as she could carry, stuffing them all into her satchel. She found herself relaxing as she gathered up food for this week, taking her time. She rather liked the silence that fell over the store. 

She was so focused on her task that she didn’t even notice two other people had come in until they shouted at her. She flinched, harsh memories crackling across her mind. 

Slowly, she turned to face whoever was disturbing her trip. 

Two humans stood, blocking her one exit. 

They have guns.

She tightens her grip on her satchel strap. 

“Get the fuck outta here,” the shorter one demands. “These are our grounds.”

What? Since when?

“You have no right in saying that,” Hope says in a steady voice.

The taller one scoffs. “Get out before we kill you, bitch.”

Rude.

“I was taking my leave, anyway.”

“Drop the grub. That’s our’s.”

He can’t be serious. 

Hope would scowl if she could. Instead, she moves forward, but is stopped in her tracks. One of the pair raises their gun to her. A threat.

“I said drop the bag,” the shorter one grumbles.

Hope recoils slightly in both surprise and disgust. She clenches her fist.

“No. Please move.”

“God, you’re fuckin’ worthless.”

There’s a loud pop, followed instantly by a much louder crack. 

Hope careens backwards, stumbling into one of the shelves, toppling it over. The vision in her left eye shatters, and she can’t think straight. She reaches up, pressing a palm to her head, swallowing a scream of pain. The world is spinning. She tries to stand, but her hand slips through items and her back is brought down onto the shelf, ripping a shout of pain from her. 

Her head is pounding. 

She tries to focus on something.

Everything is red. Red. God, it’s so red. It’s so bright and blinding and red so red so so red.

She can’t hear anything?

She hurts.

It’s getting darker. 

Something grabs her shirt and her nerves are on fire. She suddenly finds some manic form of energy and lunges forward. Her hand makes contact with something soft. Almost on instinct, she digs her claws into what she now knows is the throat of her attacker and she presses down harder and he gags and pleads and starts to panic and cry and she barely hesitates to scrape as much as she can into her palm and 

She tears out his throat.

Blood explodes from him, staining her fur and clothes. She stays on top of him, staring straight through his skull as he writhes beneath her. She thinks she hears a scream. Everything sounds the same. 

She doesn’t know if she’s breathing anymore.

Once the blood flow calms down, she stands up, powered only by her momentary burst of energy. 

The world is… red.

She turns to where she thinks the other one is, and stares at them.

She can feel blood seeping into her shirt.

Slipping down her face. 

Staining her hands.

She tries to speak, but nothing comes out. She stares straight through him before turning and leaving. 

She needs to get home.

[ghostbustersreborn]

Chapter 17

february 3rd, 1985.

early in the morning, about twenty minutes to five. tara got up early to pack and write her note for her dad.

she felt extremely bad for the worry she was going to put the boys through during these four months she was gone. she was probably going to be grounded for life when she returned. she knew that for sure.

she already regretted going. but, she knew how amanda was. she didn't want to get on her bad side.

she cracked open her door, she saw her dad sprawled out on the sofa fast asleep. she assumed dana was asleep in his bed.

she left her room and tip toed over to her dad.

tara kneeled down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"i love you, dad. i'm really sorry." she whispered.

she tip toed back into her room. she grabbed a spare note pad and a pencil. after tearing the paper out, she began to write her letter.

'i know you are not going to like this.. but i've gone out on a road trip with my friends for a few months. i'll be okay. i'm sorry, it's okay if you all hate me after this. i would too. i love you. love, tara.'

suddenly, she heard the sound of rocks being hit against her window. she ran to the window and opened it.

"do you want me to get caught?!" tara whisper-yelled.

"get your ass down here!" amanda hissed.

tara rolled her eyes. she closed her window shut.

she grabbed her bag and exited her room.

god, she hoped her dad or dana didn't wake up.

she tip toed over to the door.

peter stirred in his sleep.

her eyes widened.

when she realized he wasn't awake, she inaudibly sighed of relief as she moved closer to the door.

she took one last look at her father before slipping out the door and out of the apartment complex where her friends were waiting for her.

like, i said before this was going to be a long four months..

*

peter woke up a few hours after tara left.

as he woke up, right off the bat he felt off.

he wasn't sure what it was, but something wasn't right and he needed to find out. right now.

he got up from off of the couch, scanning the area.

his eyes then landed on tara's bedroom door. he needed to check if she was okay.

he went to her room and barged in.

the bed was made. she wasn't there. expect for a note left on her nicely made bed.

peter went over to it, picking it up when taking a seat on the bed.

scanning through the letter. his eyes widened at the few months.

gone for a few months.

he crinkled up the letter, feeling nothing but rage built up inside him.

*

"she's thirteen. what the hell does she think she's doing?!" peter raged.

now, at the fire house. he handed off the letter to winston, to which he handed it off to the others to read.

"where is she?" was all egon could say.

"how am i supposed to know?!" he snapped.

"did she mention anything at all about this?" ray asked.

"no, not at all." peter truthfully answered.

"for four months?" egon echoed.

"yes, egon. get it through your thick skull." peter insulted.

"peter, you need to take it down a notch." winston advised him.

"i can't! my daughter is gone. she's gone with those friends of hers, that will sooner or later get her killed." he fumed.

"i just don't get why she would do this." ray confessed.

"i know why. her "friends" pressured her into going with them. that's all they ever do to her. peer pressure her into doing dumb shit." peter explained.

egon sighed. "we have no choice but to wait. i have a feeling she'll be back soon." he hoped.

peter sighed.

"oh, she better be." was all peter said before leaving the room to try to calm himself down.

*

meanwhile...

the girls were out on the road. headed to god knows where.

not even tara knew where they were going.

"where are we going, exactly?" she asked them.

"to where ever we want to!" amanda exclaimed.

tara laughed. "yeah, okay. but seriously where are we going?" she questioned.

"florida." shelly answered her.

"out of all places?" tara scrunched up her nose. "nothing wrong with florida, just why?"

"do you want to know why we're making this four month road trip?" amanda asked her.

"yeah, sure." tara answered.

"to go clubbing." she told her.

of, course.

they were obsessed with clubbing.

"okay." tara sighed, knowing there was no backing out now.

she had to stay for the ride. she just hoped they didn't make her drink alcohol again..

*

"hey, wake up!" tara could hear lesley amanda's other friend tell her.

tara reluctantly woke up. she sat up looking around.

it was dark outside and it looked like they were parked at a run down gas station with a ma and pop diner connected to it.

"come on, we're getting food." lesley told her.

tara sighed. she hopped out of the car and followed lesley into the diner.

tara sat next to amanda in the booth.

"i don't think they have alcohol here, sorry girls." tara sarcastically commented.

amanda shot her a look.

"what? it's a joke." she defended herself.

the waitress visited their table, asking for orders.

while the girls took their orders. tara thought about how worried and mad the boys must be right now.

she was really regretting going out this far from the boys.

to say she was homesick was an understatement.

to say she wanted egon right now was also an understatement.

god, she hated herself.

"tara, what do you want to eat?" amanda asked her.

"uh um, chicken nuggets."

the waitress nodded and went off to put their orders in.

"what are you, twelve?" amanda mocked.

"technically, yes." tara nodded.

amanda rolled her eyes.

"do you think there's any clubs out here?" shelly wondered.

tara looked out the window.

wherever they were looked like a ghost town.

"by the looks of it, no." tara told her.

shelly pouted.

tara sighed.

she felt cramped.

this booth clearly wasn't fit for three people to sit in.

'i want to go home.' tara said to herself.

tara looked out the window, while her friends conversed back and forth with one another, she stayed silent. she really was missing home.

she wanted to be watching saturday night live with her dad, ray and winston. she wanted to be hanging out with egon in the lab. she wanted to gossip with janine. and she wanted to go to bed in HER bed. not in a car. in the comfort of her OWN firehouse.

she needed to call someone. anyone.

but, if she called. she would probably get a earful from the boys about how she was grounded for the rest of her life and she was never to see the outside world ever again.

"hey, amanda." tara said interrupting the girls conversation.

amanda shot her a look.

"i'm sorry." tara quickly said. "do you um have any change?"

"what do you need it for?" amanda asked.

"i'm going to make a call." she answered.

"no." she shook her head.

"w-why not?" tara sputtered out.

"you're not going to call your dad or his friends to come pick you up. this is our little trip. you can live without them for a few months." amanda told her off.

"but-" "oh, here's our food!" shelly cut her off.

tara frowned. why couldn't she make a call?

amanda huffed. "i have to go to the bathroom. of course i have to go when we get our food." she said when the waitress delivered their food to the table. "shelly, come with?" she requested.

shelly nodded.

once the waitress was out of the way, the two older girls went off to the restroom.

"hey." lesley said.

tara turned to her.

"here, go make your call." she smiled handing her ten cents.

"thank you." tara smiled back, before slipping out of the booth and out of the diner.

scurrying over to the lone pay phone. she popped in the ten cents and dialed the number.

it rang three times before the person on the other end picked up.

"hello, ghostbusters. what do you want?"

"the boys aren't around, are they?" tara asked.

"oh, no. they're not. the boys were called into work randomly. tara, where are you?" janine asked her.

"actually, at the moment i have no idea." tara answered her truthfully.

"hunny, are you okay?" she asked her.

tara let out a shaky sigh.

"i'm not sure." she told her.

"sweetheart, did they talk you into going?" she asked.

"yes. amanda hates the word no." she said, half joking.

"you can't let people take advantage of you." janine told her.

tara sniffled. "i want to go home."

"tell them that." janine urged her.

"i can't. amanda will get mad. i'm not even supposed to be calling you right now, she didn't want me to call anyone." tara's eyes darted from the phone to the diner, just to make sure amanda wasn't out of the rest room yet.

janine sighed. "she's not a good friend."

her eyes widened when she saw amanda and shelly come out of the bathroom.

"i-i've gotta go janine. i'll talk to you later." she quickly told her.

"hunny-" tara cut her off by hanging up.

she sprinted back to the diner, hoping that if they saw her outside she could just say she was out for fresh air.

"where were you?" amanda asked her the second tara came back in.

"getting some fresh air." tara said, sounding out of breath.

"and a run too?" shelly sarcastically remarked.

tara rolled her eyes.

the girls slipped into the booth together.

"i swear to god if you called one of the-" "i didn't, okay?" tara cut her off.

"she's telling the truth. she really went out for fresh air." lesley butted in.

amanda shot her a look before starting to eat her food.

the rest of the night was spent in silence.

awkward.

*

[windowlessatmosphere]

Put a Ring on It, Ch.6

Read on AO3

Summary: Bucky's married Steve twice already, but since third time's the charm, they're gonna go for one more. He just needs one thing before they can start planning—his wedding ring.

“Natalia, I swear to God, if it’s not  fucking  here–”

“We’ve checked less than 30% of the facility, James,” came the swift interruption.

“I know, but–”

“But nothing,” she returned. “You can start worrying once we’ve cleared the building. Deal?”

“...Deal.” Bucky forced his answer out through gritted teeth, clearly displeased.

“Look on the bright side, man,” Sam chimed in. “This run has been  way  easier than the last one.”

Bucky and Natasha both snorted at that.

“Records storage versus a containment facility for HYDRA’s greatest weapon,” Natasha had clear amusement in her voice as she continued, “wonder which one will be harder to break into?”

“Fair enough,” Sam allowed, continuing to rifle through the folders in the open drawer in front of him.

“I might have something,” Natasha called out. Her brow was furrowed as she sat in front of the computer, eyes scanning across the screen.

“What kind of something?” Sam asked, still poring over the folder in his hands, which seemed like it was probably at least ten years too late to be relevant.

“A map with storage locations,” Natasha replied. Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing to peer over her shoulder. “It hasn’t been updated in a while, so it may not be accurate anymore,” she warned, eyes flicking to Bucky for a moment.

“Don’t care,” he shot back at once. “It’ll give us a better idea than just checking the entire facility.”

“I agree,” she replied, the note of warning still obvious in her tone.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“James…” she stopped him, raising an eyebrow.

“What.”

“If it’s not there, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s gone. We’ll continue looking.”

“...Fine.”

“Great, then. Anyway!” Sam attempted to break up some of the tension in the room, which was akin to trying to clear six feet of snow off a driveway with only a pair of chopsticks. He clapped his hands together loudly, which finally got them to break eye contact with one another. He resisted the urge to cower at the twin glares he received. Make that just  one  chopstick, he corrected mentally. “Where to?” he asked, grinning broadly and attempting to ignore the general vibe in the room.

“Third floor. I’ve got the layout,” Natasha responded before nodding towards the door. “Let’s move.”

Bucky followed after her at once, leaving Sam scrambling to put the folder back and close all the open drawers before realizing it didn’t matter in the slightest. Not exactly important to clean up after yourselves when breaking in and likely burning the place down afterwards.

Sam hurried into the hallway after them, jogging slightly in order to catch up. Natasha slipped open the door to the stairwell and disappeared behind it without making a sound. Sam watched as Bucky followed, just as silently. He finally reached the door himself, wincing at how loud it seemed in the utterly silent corridor. He was met with clear looks of judgment from both his teammates, which he pointedly ignored. His deepest apologies for not being an internationally-renowned ex-Soviet assassin, but not everyone could be, even if the other two thirds of his team might have disagreed.

Once they reached the third floor, Natasha signaled to Sam and Bucky to stay put before opening the door a crack and slipping into the hallway. Sam strained to hear, but never got anything more than a dull thud, which he figured could have been the air conditioning just as easily as it could have been anything else.

Natasha reappeared a couple minutes later, looking nearly identical to when she’d left, apart from her hair being slightly mussed.

“All clear,” she reported, smoothing her hair back into place. Bucky nodded at that, taking point as the three of them exited the stairwell, only pausing occasionally to get instructions from Natasha.

“This one,” she nodded almost imperceptibly at a door coming up on their left. Bucky sped up, yanking the door open without waiting to see if they would follow.

“The east wall of file cabinets is our best bet,” Natasha relayed to the two of them once they were all inside. Bucky nodded and immediately walked to the other side of the room and opened the first drawer. Sam took the other side of the wall, trusting that Bucky knew which way was east, since he certainly didn’t. Natasha ended up in the middle of them, working towards Sam while Sam and Bucky both slowly made their way towards her.

After a while, about three cabinets in, for Sam at least, he opened a new drawer and pulled out the first file. This one was… thick  . A  lot thicker than most of the files he’d already checked out. The label was in Russian, so Sam ignored it and flipped the file open. He looked through the first couple pages before he stopped dead. Bucky was staring back up at him from an old, worn photograph, clearly taken during the war if the uniform was anything to go by. He looked the same, it was clearly the same person that Sam knew now, but he couldn’t get over how  different Bucky looked. He shook his head, clearing his mind and continuing to look through the rest of the file. Most of it was in Russian, but Sam found a good number of documents in English, including an army physical of Bucky’s and a letter from Bucky’s sister, Becca. He kept looking, eventually stopping at a thick manila envelope that had been sealed. He flipped it over, but all the labeling was in Russian. Of course. He set the rest of the file to one side and sat down, putting the manila envelope in his lap to open it. He paused when it made a slight clinking noise, the sound of metal on metal.

Natasha and Bucky’s heads both swiveled to face him immediately at the sound. Sam gulped. He’d wanted to go through it on his own first, make sure he’d found it before getting Bucky’s hopes up. Too late.

Bucky stalked over, holding his hand out for the envelope which Sam gave over without any hesitation. Natasha and Sam watched with bated breath as Bucky ripped open the envelope and tipped the contents into his open palm. Sam heard metal clinking again, but couldn’t see what Bucky was holding from his position on the floor, even with the way he was craning his neck. Natasha came up behind Bucky, glancing over his shoulder to see if he’d found what he was looking for. Sam watched her for a reaction he could interpret, positively or otherwise, but found no change in her expression or body language. She only nodded at Bucky, face clear of any emotion Sam could recognize.

“Did you–?” Sam finally broke the silence, unable to stop himself any longer. Bucky’s head snapped up at his words.

“Yeah,” he responded after a beat. “Yes. It’s here,” he stated, though it sounded more like a question than it should’ve. Sam couldn’t help the grin that came over his face.

“That’s great, man,” he laughed, getting up off the floor to take a look himself. He peered into Bucky’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder when he saw a simple gold ring and dog tags bearing the name Steven Rogers. “Nice work, man. Steve’s gonna be over the moon.”

“Mission objective completed,” Natasha had a touch of approval in her voice. “Let’s move out.”

Twenty minutes later, Steve put his sketchbook down to pick up his phone and read the text Bucky had just sent him.

  Got it. Love you. Coming home.

[hoshigomi]

God of Stars//Éclair Brillant review, Hoshigumi, 2019

I may not have a real summer vacation from work, but my schedule allowed me to take a break this weekend to go down to Takarazuka to catch some of the first/second week of Hoshigumi’s God of Stars and Éclair Brillant! 

(I WILL be seeing this show more in Tokyo and I will probably/maybe be able to refine these thoughts by the time it ends there, but let’s start off with first impressions, shall we? ♡)

First thing’s first, I love Hoshigumi. That’s not a secret. It’s not that I think they can Do No Wrong it’s just that I love them even when they Do Wrong. Thankfully, this is a case where I truly BELIEVE they did no wrong. Both the show and the revue were well suited to Hoshigumi and their cast of characters, and well suited to Kurenai Yuzuru and Kisaki Airi, the retiring top stars, as well. 

God of Stars

Ooh BOY. Whatever you expected when you saw this poster,  multiply that by about a thousand and you’ll maybe be a little closer to right. The English language website has released this plot blurb - feel free to read for some context, if you want! 

Tl; dr-  It’s kind of about the dangers of gentrification, it’s kind of about two idol groups vying to rise to the top, it’s kind of about loving someone despite their flaws, it’s kind of about being loved as you are, and it’s kind of about Iron Chef. It’s zany and it’s FUN and the music (some of which is by famed anime and other-things composer Hyadain) is catchy and memorable. (I have seriously had the main theme and one of the big group numbers stuck in my head all week.) I would call this the most anime play I have ever seen, and I’ve seen anime plays. I would also compare it to Om Shanti Om, if you’ve seen that. There are STACKS AND STACKS of references to new media, actual people, mythology, popular culture, and the actresses themselves (half of their characters are plays on their names, if they’re not playing someone real, like Chow Yun-fat, literally the lead actor from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.)

If you’re generally a fan of comedies, slapstick, BIG group numbers, anime plays, or things that don’t take themselves too seriously, you’ll love it. It’s just pure fun.  It’s light. It’s loving. It’s energetic. It’s happy. It’s Hoshigumi. There are a few very touching scenes between characters - one in particular between Hong (Kurenai Yuzuru) and Lee (Rei Makoto), made someone within earshot of me cry every time I saw it. For me personally, this show REALLY shone in the group scenes- I never knew quite where to look (not because the main action wasn’t engaging, just because WHEREVER you looked in the group scenes, someone was making a specific, motivated, and usually HILARIOUS character choice), and I sincerely wish I could have a star angle of every actress in every big scene.  So, let’s talk about some of these actresses! 

Kurenai Yuzuru plays Hong Xing -Xing, the chef. He’s an asshole. He has a heart of gold underneath it all, but spends the majority of the play having that bit of him excavated. Again, if you’ve seen Om Shanti Om, think act II Om. I loved it. Beni does shine at this kind of thing, playing loveable assholes. The music ROCKED for her, the over the top RIDICULOUSNESS of this show is where she shines the brightest. She worked with everyone around her to create great moments for some little characters and lent her comedic timing to the whole troupe, it seemed like. I missed the depth that her role in Elbe allowed her to show, and the stillness and emotional intent she’s so heartachingly beautiful at was missing here, but that’s the show’s fault, not hers. I loved this as a taidan role. I’ll miss Beni. I can’t wait to see how her and Hong have grown by Tokyo. 

Kisaki Airi as Eileen Chow particularly kicked ass (figuratively and literally, with slipper kung-fu.) She DEFINITELY wasn’t shafted here (hooray!!) with two solos in her wheelhouse and honestly, I feel, a stronger character than Beni even got. She was spunky and sassy and she looked so damn GOOD in all her costumes. Nothing but respect for MY anime heroine, Eileen Chow. 

Hanagata Hikaru from Senka played Eric Yang of the Golden Star Group, a straight man to everyone else’s completely whack roles, unfortunately a little unremarkable (she’s so comedically GIFTED, but this role was strictly there to advance the plot.) Rei Makoto, the-soon-to-be-top star, was sweet as Lee Long Long  Dragon, Hong’s rival. He’s the classic trope of complete nerd-turned- absolute hottie, when he meets his idol (and literal idol) Christina Chang (Maisora Hitomi, next top musumeyaku). Some of the most universally appreciated humor in this show came from Lee being absolutely FLUSTERED by Christina- and it was really NICE to see these two play together as a couple. They have some SWEET SWEET moments, particularly with their scene together at the end of the play. The seeds of good chemistry are there, and they have the potential to sound really great together. I really hope they don’t sacrifice humor and personality in the long run for pure skill, but I’m optimistic. ♡) 

Yumeki Anru as Kitty, Hong’s Kind Of Girlfriend (and later Chow Yun Fat’s arm candy) was a COMPLETELY INCREDIBLE, SEXY, Sailor Moon Villain-esque nuisance- also may or may not have been directly lifted from Crazy Rich Asians.  

The boy band, Paradise Prince, made up of Kiwami Shin, Amato Kanon, Amahana Ema, Amaki Homare, leader Seo Yuria, and long suffering (but LOVING and mature and full of her own life and opinions and things to Get Done- my only complaint is I wish they let her sing more) manager Arisa Hitomi were a COMPLETE delight. If I could give them the small group ensemble award for just the sheer bullshit they were CONSTANTLY giving us, God I would.  If you didn’t know where to look in God of Stars and you defaulted to them, you’d NEVER be disappointed. From choreographing small routines on the side of the stage to taking selfies and making Tik Toks, they were 100% on all the time. (Also, sounded vocally great and looked great dancing, technical skill wise. I would honestly buy this group as a boy band. Let me know when they release their first single. I’ll buy 10.) (Distinguished performance award goes to Amato Kanon, who is Ken 3 but has the raw power of six upperclassman otokoyaku combined, and is going to be absolutely UNSTOPPABLE in a few years once she learns how to refine ALL THAT.) Kozakura Honoka, Sakuraba Mai, Mizuno Yuri, Seira Hitomi, and leader Maisora Hitomi, make up the girl group, Eclipse, who are used more for transitions and set dressing (albiet FUN set dressing), than plot devices of their own. (Sorry girls, the boys win this idol group battle.) 

Kisaragi Ren (Ren), Mao Yuuki (Mao), Miki Chigusa (Lao Hu), Kizaki Reo (Leo) (see what I’m saying about character names....?), and Shizuki Otone (Michelle) are the working class, good people from Eileen’s life who have stakes in the food hawker stalls, and GOD, they, along with the boy band and the underclassmen ensemble characters, really bring the story to life. Every one of them makes a specific character and sticks to it with care and love and humor and stakes and it’s clear and it’s big and it is, in my opinion, so Hoshigumi. (Also, the roles weren’t huge, but these were still nice for Mao Yuuki and Kisaragi Ren’s last roles in Takarazuka. They were usually together and always funny and got to be in PLENTY of the show, which is all we can ask for.) 

Tenju Mitsuki and Otoha Minori both got to flex their acting chops as Eileen’s parents. Even if I am a little sad that the two of them are now officially playing parents, they ARE old enough that that shouldn’t really be surprising. Tenju Mitsuki especially got to be funny, and Otoha Minori got to be loving and maternal, and I feel that both really milked their roles for all they could. Also, for PARENT ROLES, they were hardly shafted, so I’ll count my blessings now.  

Natori Rei, Mari Yuzumi, Hiroka Yuu, and Sazanami Reira as Demon Bull King, Princess Iron Fan, and The Bodhisattva Candraprabha and Suryaprabha respectively (y’all PLEASE look these characters up I am BEGGING you) were Beni’s family (see the show before you decide whether I’m speaking figuratively or literally) and while the show could have happened without that side plot and only a few tweaks, were a really lovely and worldly addition to the cast. It was FUN to see the Gods and People Of Legends giving context to the story and the other characters, and even more fun to see normal people interacting with them at the end of the play. 

As the newswoman and MC Vimmy, Shirotae Natsu was LITERALLY playing her character from Om Shanti Om, and was just as delightful now as she was then (and one of the times I saw the show, worked INCREDIBLY seamlessly and quickly with Beni to fix a mic issue that could have made a whole scene fruitless.) Iroha Reo was Shirotae Natsu’s assistant MC, and Shidou Ryuu was the producer, both in small but still lovingly crafted roles. Haruto Yuuho’s incredible voice was completely wasted as the silent role of cameraman, but she looked cute as hell in a beanie and glasses. Murasaki Rira as Madam Yang was an absolute joy in the back (or front) of every Golden Star Group scene, playing a little batty and a little flirty and a little spacey and a lot wild and fun. Yuunagi Ryou as Chow Yun Fat, actual Real Life Actor (and for the purposes of this play, the deciding judge of the cooking competition,) was a lot of fun if you love looking at the complete storylines people can come up with in the back of scenes, and your kind of character if you’re into the whole bad boy but also kung fu actor guy thing. Toudou Jun (Sheik Jahuli), Asamizu Ryou (Monsieur Lobchamp), and Minato Rihi (Michiba Juusaburou, NOT to be confused with Actual Iron Chef Michiba Rokusaburou) were the other chefs featured by the Golden Star Group, and MAN, they were all funny.  Toudou Jun had a particularly fleshed out take on her character, more naan jokes than I can count, and a surprising amount of heart in the group scenes with Eileen and co. Ooki Makoto as the priest had one of the best lines in the show, correcting Hong’s reading of a sign, and Otosaki Itsuki, while onstage very little, got a KILLER solo as the dragon boat singer at the start of the Singapore scene mid-show.

If you get a chance, I really recommend you see this show in person. It is a lovingly crafted, well performed, slapstick ride in an Iron Chef meets Cutthroat Kitchen vehicle. It ends with rainbow gyoza and a RAP battle, y’all. The LIFE of it is so shockingly full force in the theatre, as is the volume and the humor and the love that I think endears Hoshigumi to its fans. God of Stars is worth a watch- and even if it ends up not for you, at least you’ll be able to see you saw Naan used as a weapon in a stage fight. ♡

Éclair Brillant,

(which I learned TODAY is not called ‘Éclair Brilliant’). Is, well, Brilliant. While I wouldn't call this the best Benigumi revue in my eyes, (it's no Killer Rouge, and I am PARTICULAR to Estrellas as fair as Hoshigumi Energy goes), the fact is, everyone has different taste, and besides that, Éclair Brillant is BEYOND good. Here's a quick number by number breakdown (as it goes in my memory.) The opening is CLASSY and CLASSIC. It actually is NOT AT ALL unlike the opening to Bouquet De Takarazuka, but it's silver, not beige. The choreography and music both have moments that DEFINITELY struck me with deja vu. Something interesting is that this revue DOES NOT have a title screen/sign/marquee. I am not SURE why that is. In its place, the music starts (a low hum, very space-y), and the theatre slowly fades to complete darkness, before Kurenai Yuzuru (Beni) is illuminated from the back, the light shining through her gauzy, spacey, alien costume in a VERY cool way that made the audience all ooh and ahh, then the lights come up on her face and we begin. The theme is SWEET. Beni sounds INCREDIBLE in this part of her vocal range. Then, enter the rest of the troupe, Rei Makoto (Coto) gets her solo, Seo Yuria (Seo) and Hanagata Hikaru get time on the bridge, Kisaki Airi (Airi) gets her solo. It's all structurally sound, predictable, and good. This opening is the only place in the revue with a kyakusekiori (actresses in the aisles.) 

The opening ends, and Beni is left on the bridge for a solo number. It's playful and uptempo and and not stylistically unlike Leaning on a Lamppost from Me and My Girl, only a little more introspective and slower. She sits on the stairs to the audience for part of it and really focuses on just singing and acting and being present and it's lovely. 

From there, the curtain rises on a very pastoral, calm, almost blank stage, save for a tree, a couple outdoor tables, some underclassmen playing couples and waiters and waitresses, and Maisora Hitomi with a hat. You can tell this is going to be a dance scene immediately, and it is. (Side note: The underclassmen in this scene ROCK. They have a lot of moments of complete stillness and freezes into very fluid natural movement, and they all maintain their storylines and relations throughout. It's nice to see.) Anyway, Maisora is minding her own business and then a sudden gust of WIND blows through the beautiful scene, her hat is whisked away offstage, she briefly chases after it and then ah, gives up. She goes back to her table presumably to like continue having a normal day and mourn the loss of her hat but surprise, there is the personification of the wind itself (Coto) sitting on her table like a little wind nymph. They dance. It's beautiful. I'd say more but that's all there is to say- they dance and it IS beautiful. I think right now dance is looking like it's going to be their strength because boy, they move REAL WELL together. They're both pretty top tier dancers, and it's cool to see them move so naturally together despite having just met. Maisora also VOCALLY sounds better in this number than she did in God of Stars, in my opinion- it's a pretty, lilting slow tune that she definitely sounds good on. The dance ends with an attempted kiss and some falling feathers, and suddenly, all the people from the scene come running back on, breaking the fantasy (with the hat! They found the hat!), and Maisora ultimately runs back off with them after a pensive glance out, as if wondering if the Wind Spirit who visited her Will Ever Return. Then Coto sings some more. It’s predictably beautiful.

Cumbanchero (the start of the chuuzume, despite being only three songs into the revue) is one of my very favorite numbers in the revue, probably because I have a big ol’ Takarazuka Crush on one of the dancers, but also because it’s just really high energy and it’s danced so WELL. It starts ABRUPTLY and features Kurenai Yuzuru, Mao Yuuki, Shidou Ryuu, Kizaki Reo, Sazanami Reira, Hiroka Yuu, Yuunagi Ryou, Minato Rihi, and Amato Kanon. Man, they can all DANCE. If Coto’s Hoshigumi features these actresses in dance numbers, they’re gonna look GOOD. It’s a nice reprieve from the so far calm and pretty revue and starts to take things over to the sexier/bolder/more sensual Latin-inspired side, where a lot of the rest of the revue sits, musically. (Though like, Takarazuka “Latin” is what it is and we all know that.) Airi gets a turn in the spotlight next, singing a song I WISH I knew the title of, with either a long curly blonde wig or a short brown bob  depending on the show while Ooki Makoto and Kisaragi Ren (hell yeah) get fawned over/pawed at/pushed around by musumeyaku. It’s sensual. Also sensual (but leaning much more towards playful and flirty) is The Next Number In The Chuuzume, sung by Amahana Ema, Kiwami Shin, and Arisa Hitomi. Arisa Hitomi SPECIFICALLY sounds mature and sexy and GOOD and everything a musumeyaku learns to be when you give her a chance to grow up. Some of the kids do coupley samba around them. They’re VERY cute.  The stage goes dark and Beni, Airi, and Coto appear- they dance around each other and with each other in every combination possible while Mikkii sings on the stairs- and God, I could talk for ages about how much I love when they let Mikkii sing for duet/trio dances. She brings out all the emotion in the songs and gives the dancers so much space to play in. The END OF THE CHUUZUME is set to The Gift (by Eydie Gorme). It’s too short. The music rocks. It’s all samba stepping and teasing grinning and I loooooved it. Otherwise though, it was a very standard chuuzume. (One of my ONLY complaints about this revue is that I DO wish they took the chance to do something a little more BeniAiri. Anyone can do a Nice Chuuzume. These two have such play and humor in them, and I would have loved to see something more like Championne from Estrellas as their last chuuzume. It was still VERY solid and very good, but lacking in personalization.)

After the chuuzume, Seo comes on surrounded by eight musumeyaku (Seira Hitomi, Mizuno Yuri, Nijou Hana, Kuresaki Rino, Miyako Yuuna, Sumika Amane, Ruri Hanaka, and Ayane Miran. You didn’t expect Seo Yuria to sing Mas Que Nada with the dirtiest bass line I have ever heard, but here she is, singing it (well!). Seo sings across the bridge and it feels filthy somehow and I have NO idea what to do with it. Everyone in this number is trying to ooze sex appeal out of every pore in their body. Some of them ARE succeeding. This number makes me more uncomfortable than excited, but I think your mileage may vary here.

Ravel’s Bolero is the best number in Éclair Brilliant, and may be one of the best numbers in any revue ever. It’s very long, but I don’t think it’s long ENOUGH. There is NO singing. There is no sound from the actresses save for stepping and clapping and the occasional stomp. 

These are two pictures from the number but they don’t even BEGIN to do it justice. I am PRAYING the DVD captures it, but the real magic in this number is how groups of dancers use the stage, how they line up SHARPLY and PERFECTLY in place, how they move on and off the stage with incredible fluidity but INTENSE movements, how groups move in sync or against each other, the lighting being low and shadowy- this number was perfect. I am a HUGE sucker for loud flashy funny in your face- and this sharp, understated, stripped down dance number could have brought me to tears. This was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen in any Takarazuka show, and deserves a spot in ANY Best Of list that’s ever compiled from here on out. 

It’s hard to top Bolero, so for a tonal shift, next we have our Taidan Number/Rockette. And honestly? It’s well timed. The taidan medley is Hanagata Hikaru (not retiring), Shirotae Natsu and Yumeki Anru (ALSO not retiring), and our incredible, wonderful, brilliant taidansha, Kisaragi Ren and Mao Yuuki, singing Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life. It’s full of heart and earnesty and smiles and it’s honest and fun and these people on this stage love each other, and they love what they do, and it’s so EASY to see. Renta dances and sings with the same 200% she always gives, and Mao Yuuki takes in everything and everyone around her every time I see her do this number. It’s gonna be BRUTAL on the last day. The four upperclassmen join the rockettes for the first part of their dance (which is CUTE), and then run off to let the girls do their thing.

The rockettes end and a new set of feathers takes the stage- Beni, Airi, Maisora Hitomi, Kiwami Shin, Arisa Hitomi, and Amahana Ema in a slinky, sequined leotard bird of paradise number (Beni has some notes in this song that give me CHILLS in the best way)- and they’re eventually shoo’d off by Coto, Amato Kanon, Aomi Sario, Sakishiro Kei, and Kisa Kaoru, in MORE exciting bird-of-paradise costumes, and a more upbeat and aggressive and slinkier dance. (It was COOL to see Kisa Kaoru and Sakishiro Kei included in here- I don’t feel like I’ve really seen them do anything to date, and they’re both solid! Aomi Sario is familiar and Amato Kanon is climbing the ladder quick.)

The next number is nothing short of beautiful. It’s a Beni dance solo (again, no singing at all- the ending of Éclair is a little sparse on vocals), until she is joined by most of the Hoshigumi musumeyaku, all in flowy pink petals, with an electric shamisen. It was VERY falling-sakura-esque. It was STUNNING. They fall and they scatter and they twirl and Beni is in the midst of it all, and by the end of the song...

-the petals have all fallen and we are in place for one of my favorite kuroenbi ever. In fact, the whole rest of this revue is beautiful. This kuroenbi is more electric shamisen, a lot of high kicks, a lot of sharp and bold movement and interesting lines and groups of younger actresses and groups of older actresses taking turns centerstage and (a beautifully funny moment between Beni, Renta, and Mao Yuuki that IS a tonal shift for a brief few seconds, but doesn’t interrupt the flow of the dance at all, and is just so ... heartwarming to see. It’s lovely to see the taidansha honored in a way that’s so purely them.)

All the otokoyaku save for seven (Rei Makoto, Hanagata Hikaru, Mao Yuuki, Seo Yuria, Shidou Ryuu, Amahana Ema, and Kiwami Shin) exit the stage, and Airi enters. Coto sings a beautiful song to Airi as Airi gets to dance with all her otokoyaku in turn, it’s also playful and flirty and loving and Mao lifts her and spins her SO well- the dance only ends at its climax when Beni runs onstage from behind Airi and catches her- Airi has found her real partner and the duet dance begins in earnest with just the two of them. It is, as you’d want for the two of them, very sweet, very loving, very kind, and very much just two people who love each other and have gotten to know each other so well.

 It suits them, and their smiles and the amount of HUGGING in this dance is exactly what they deserve. It’s a good taidan duet dance. It’s a good Beni/Airi taidan duet dance. 

Overall, I think Éclair was very good. It honored a lot of what has made Beni and Airi’s Hoshigumi what it was, in the little moments, but didn’t drown itself in kitsch. That said, I might have liked to see a LITTLE more of their personalities in the revue- I can almost say it felt like Éclair was ushering in Coto’s new era of Hoshigumi a little early and a little rushed. This would have been a BRILLIANT mid-top-run revue for this pair, because GOD did it show that they’re capable of more than the humor and energy that they’re too often pinholed into by Takarazuka fans in general. That is without a doubt their wheelhouse, but both Kurenai Yuzuru and Kisaki Airi are a LOT more than funny. It was incredible to see so much of that in a revue, because while we’ve seen it in plays, they haven’t really had a revue that feels this classic (to me), to date. It was a good revue to pair with God of Stars, though, because the full three hours gave you little bites (haha) of the incredible range that both these actresses have. 

I loved God of Stars and Éclair Brillant. I loved them as a pair. I love Kurenai Yuzuru and Kisaki Airi as a pair. I love Hoshigumi for everything they are and everything every actress brings to the table, and I can not wait to see how this show and the actresses have grown by the time it reaches Tokyo. ♡

星組最高！

[sluttywonwoo]

pretend || j.ww x reader

Summary: reading thirst tweets with your co-star/boyfriend’s best friend makes things a little tense

Warnings: swearing, smut mentions (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n:  originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

The sound of Mingyu cracking his knuckles next to you sent a shiver down your spine, making you cringe instinctively. You turned to glare at him and leaned away from the noise.

“I hate when you do that!” you groaned.

He smirked. “I know, that’s why I like doing it.”

You looked over at Wonwoo, who was sitting across the room with the crew, and pointed to Gyu. 

“Can you tell your best friend to stop being annoying?”

“Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being dramatic?” Mingyu retaliated.

“I’m not picking sides!” Wonwoo shouted back and held up his hands in surrender.

You let your jaw drop. “I’ll remember that, Jeon.”

“Baby, I-” Wonwoo started to defend himself, but fell silent when the producer got up from her chair and approached you and Mingyu who were sitting behind the camera. 

“Which one of you wants to take this?” she asked, holding up a large insulated jug full of paper strips. 

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu offered and set the cup in his lap. 

“What a gentleman,” you said, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he muttered, “because you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

The producer gave you both a sideways look. “Are you guys alright? Should we take a minute before starting?”

“No, we’re fine,” you assured her.

“We don’t actually hate each other,” Mingyu added, “this is just how... we are.”

She didn’t look any less concerned, but nodded anyway. “Okay, well remember what your director said about playing up your chemistry to promote the show. And when we call action just give a quick slate and start reading the tweets.”

She walked back over to her spot next to the cameraman and took a seat before looking over a checklist that had been handed to her and writing some notes on it.

“Nervous?” Mingyu whispered to you as you both waited for your cue.

“A little,” you admitted. “You?”

“I’m a bit on edge,” he concurred. “Mostly because your boyfriend is about to watch me read filthy comments about you on-camera.”

You glanced over at Wonwoo who gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. “He’ll be fine. How bad can they be?”

From a distance, the producer you had just spoken to called for everyone to be quiet on set and signaled the cameras to start rolling. You perked up and straightened your dress, waiting for Mingyu to take the lead. 

“Hi guys, I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“And I’m y/n y/l/n.”

“You might recognize us from our new Netflix series, Breaking Curfew, where we play opposite each other in what you might call a... complicated romantic relationship.”

“We’re enemies with benefits,” you summarized. “And today we’re here with Buzzfeed to read thirst tweets about each other.”

“Ladies first,” Mingyu said and held the cup out to you.

You closed your eyes and sifted through the strips of paper with one hand, selecting one at random. 

“Okay, this one’s about you. ‘Kim Mingyu has the prettiest eyes’.” You grinned as you watched your co-star’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s totally blushing right now! We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff!”

“Thank you very much to whoever tweeted that,” Mingyu said and cleared his throat. 

“I agree with this person,” you continued, “you do have really pretty eyes.”

“Aw, thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My turn.” Mingyu closed his eyes and rummaged around the cup before picking one. “‘Someone tell y/n y/l/n that I’m single and I get a discount at Olive Garden if she ever wants to let me take her out on a date’.”

You chuckled. “I do like Olive Garden.”

“She’ll get back to you on that one, mate,” Mingyu said quickly and let the crumpled piece of paper fall to the floor. 

You took that as a sign to move on so you reached into the jug and pulled out another tweet.

“Oh, this one’s about me again. ‘Y/n y/l/n scissor me challenge’.” You clapped a hand over your mouth in shock and thrust the slip of paper towards Mingyu.

“You know what, props for being so bold. What do you think, y/n? Are you going to take them up on the offer?”

“I’ll think about it,” you managed to choke out, sending Mingyu into a laughing fit. You fanned yourself with your hand as you tried to recover and motioned for your co-star to read another one. “Your turn.”

“‘Kim Mingyu and y/n y/l/n are my dream celebrity threesome,’” he read. “What a compliment, don’t you think?”

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed and winked as you held your hand to your ear in a call me motion. 

“These are just getting more and more vulgar, aren’t they?” Mingyu asked. 

“I don’t know that anything can beat the scissoring one,” you pointed out as you fished another tweet from the bucket. “Another one about Mingyu, okay. ‘I wanna suck Kim Mingyu’s soul through his dick then spit it back in his face’.” You blinked at the piece of paper in front of you in shock, scanning back over it to make sure you had read it right the first time. “Jesus... christ.”

Mingyu smirked and nudged your shoulder with his. 

You ignored him and pointed a finger at the camera in disgust. “I cannot believe you made me read this with my own two eyes. I could have lived my entire life without seeing those words in a sentence together!”

“I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” Mingyu countered, running a thumb along his jawline cockily. 

“No, I have beef with whoever tweeted that now.”

“You’re just jealous that I like this tweet better than the threesome one.”

You sighed. “This interview was a bad idea. Your head is already so god damn big.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to retaliate, but paused like he had thought better of it and took a deep breath to compose himself. 

“Anyway, moving on.”

You watched as he sifted through the tweets and chose one from the bottom, reading it to himself and grinning slightly before reading it aloud. 

“‘Petition for y/n y/l/n to start an OnlyFans because I just know her tits are incredible. I can feel it in my bones’.”

You brought your hands up to your boobs self-consciously and laughed. “I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“I’ve seen them,” Mingyu added nonchalantly, “and I can confirm that twitter user ‘geminisuns’ is correct.”

“Mingyu!” 

“What? Do you know how many sex scenes we had to shoot? We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”

You looked back over to the crew and made eye contact with the producer. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“Maybe we should take a quick break,” she suggested and motioned for the cameras to stop rolling. “Get a drink, freshen up and be back here in five.”

“Do you think they’re going to use that part?” Mingyu asked as he followed you over to the water cooler. 

“I don’t know, dude,” you sighed in annoyance, “but great fucking job. The whole world already thinks we’re boning.”

“I don’t know about the whole world.” You glared at him. “Wonwoo knows we’re not.”

Wonwoo. You had nearly forgotten that your boyfriend was there on set with you. You looked around for him, and saw him still sitting in his designated guest chair looking at his phone. You could only imagine what he must be thinking of all of this. You should probably say something to him. 

You told Mingyu that you’d be back and made your way across the room to Wonwoo. Even from a distance you could tell that he was upset. 

His knuckles were pale and his jaw was tight. He didn’t look up at you when you approached him. 

“Sorry this is taking longer than expected,” you said, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured in response, still not looking at you. 

You sighed and draped yourself across him, slinging your arms loosely across his shoulders as you leaned down to see what he was doing on his phone. He was scrolling aimlessly on Instagram, not even liking any of the posts. 

“If you’re bored you can leave,” you said curtly and stood back up. 

“I’m not bored.”

“You’re not even paying attention to the shoot.”

“Trust me, it’s impossible not to. I’ve been trying to tune it out for the past ten minutes with no luck.”

“Why would you not want to pay attention?” you demanded even though the answer was sitting right in front of you. “This is a big deal for me.”

Wonwoo swallowed and finally looked up at you. “I know, baby. It’s just- do you know how hard it is to listen to my best friend talk about doing all of these dirty things to you-”

“He’s my best friend too,” you pointed out in a quiet hiss. “The only reason we’re together is because of him.”

Sometimes you felt the need to remind Wonwoo that you had known Mingyu longer than you had known him. If Gyu hadn’t brought him to set all those times back when you were filming in the fall, you wouldn’t even know about each other’s existence. 

“I know that.”

“You’ve done interviews like this before,” you argued. 

“I know,” he repeated.

“Then why are you being like this?” He didn’t answer, so you kept going. “You know my bare ass has been on tv, right-”

“Don’t,” Wonwoo warned and grabbed your wrist.

You gasped and flexed your fingers gingerly in his grasp, challenging him. “Don’t what?” 

“Y/n,”

“Don’t... act like I want to fuck your best friend?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t pretend like I’d rather fulfill those tweets with him instead of you? Give the people what they want?”

You had to bite your tongue before you went any further and said something you might regret. Your words had already had the desired effect. You didn’t even have to look at Wonwoo’s lap to know that he was struggling not to get hard. 

You could see it in his eyes. The arousal that had turned the warm brown into black. The way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. You wondered if you would even make it back home before he’d break, if he would pull the car over on the side of the road and take you then and there. 

Your knees were weak at the mere thought of what you were in for later that night. Making Wonwoo jealous was admittedly one of your favorite pastimes, purely for selfish reasons. Possessive sex was arguably the best sex. The teasing, the hair-pulling, the choking, the face-fucking, all hit different when Wonwoo was reminding you who you belonged to. 

Wonwoo released your wrist from his grip and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Are you finished?”

You shook your head and grinned. “Just getting started.”

lmk what you thought; i always appreciate feedback!!

wonwoo tags: @wonw00t

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[blushstories]

the new york mistake - steve rogers

summary: waking up in the mcu, your boyfriend is none other than the loving, self-sacrificing steve rogers

word count: 1.3k

warnings: crack fic???? , drive-by mention of maybe being drugged/one night stands/too drunk to remember, mention of chris evans in a supernatural french mistake way, except this is like a reverse french mistake, light swear(s?), gn!reader, sweetheart is used

a/n: am stuck with the direction of another wip so have this crackish fic based off of a bizzaro 5am dream i had,,, pretend that just before this fic you went to bed normally, on your average day.

steve rogers masterlist | the hub | part 2

Hot. Too hot. The back of your neck was damp, and you wondered whether your new bedding really conserved that much heat. But you were comfortable; for the first time in a while you didn’t feel groggy or reluctant to pull away the duvet and start your day… five more minutes maybe. You snuggled further into your pillow and blankets around you, but upon feeling a firm pressure squeeze your shoulders your eyes snapped open, now aware that your pillow wasn’t usually this hard, nor was it heated. There was something heavy draped around your shoulders, and this room was clearly not your own.

It was neat, with fresh clothes folded on top of the dresser standing opposite the foot of the double bed you were in. You were uncomfortably conscious of the fact that the rising and falling of sheets in your limited vision was in fact due to the human being sleeping next to you. You did not remember going out last night. Were you drugged on your way home? Did you drink too much and end up calling an ex again? Did you imagine getting home? God, you knew that co-worker was bad news.

The sharp lashings of a cringe whipped through you as you scanned the room once more, eyes catching on a flicker of blue clothing hanging on the wall. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognised the blue, red and white one-piece, complete with a star badge fastened to the chest. No way. Do you even know any Captain America fans? You definitely didn’t have anyone in your friend group who would be a big enough fan to cosplay, at least. If it were to be anyone, you’d get the ‘most likely to’ award.

The stirring of the person next to you sparked your heart into thumping loudly against your chest.

Not yet, not yet! Not done processing!

If there was anything you learned from the movies, it was to play it cool until you figured it out. And you know you just need to be smart about it and hope that your social panic won’t trip you up. Because the sheets had slipped, and your cheek was now resting on the skin of a man’s chest. You haven’t even seen his face yet. When he cleared his throat softly, it rumbled through his chest.

“Hey… what’s got you so worked up?” That voice. That’s familiar. Fingers started working at your shoulder facing up, gently massaging the muscle underneath them. “You haven’t taken a breath in a minute.” His voice was low, and wrapped in fatigue, but it was undeniably one that belonged to Chris Evans. Baffled, you pushed yourself up on your hand, unwilling to believe it. But there he was, smiling up at you as if you were the only person in his world. You glanced back at the suit, noticing now that on the floor rested the shield. Captain America’s shield. Did he manage to swipe that from set? Nice.

His hand found its way to your hips, his thumb slipping under your shirt to rub slow circles into your skin. At least you recognised your pyjamas. You exhaled carefully, returning your eyes to his and noting the ever so slight crease in his brow. He was concerned. Right.

“Sorry… bad dream,” You said finally, eyes still scanning the room for anything that could tell you how you got here. Nothing caught your eye. He pushed himself to sit up, then, against the headboard, springs protesting weakly under his weight. The sheets slipped further to his waist and you realised that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Averting your eyes quickly, because heaven knows you would have stared otherwise, you tried to think back to what you last remembered.

You finished work, and came home. Yes, you distinctly remember going to sleep, because you had to battle with your covers to keep them on your bed. You could be dreaming, then. Just a horrifically realistic lucid dream. What were those checks people say to use? While lucid dreaming, looking at the clock at two different intervals will yield dramatically different results.

“What’s the time?” You asked, adding in a yawn to complete the dazed, just-woken-up look. Chris looked you up and down once suspiciously, making you swallow nervously. Had you been found out so quickly?

“You okay?”

“Of course, why?”

“You just… usually elaborate on these things. Not that you always have to, but I’m worried. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said, holding out his arms in an invitation for a hug. Okay, maybe you played it a little too casual. You accepted his invitation and settled into his side, trying to ignore how comfortable it felt, how your nerves about the situation ebbed away quickly. It didn’t matter if you were dreaming or not, you were going to enjoy this moment of feeling safe. His hand clamped against your forehead for a few moments, and when he was satisfied with his assessment, he let his hand fall down your face, stroking your nose on the way down.

Feeling brave, you picked up the spare hand that wasn’t holding your side and began to play with his fingers. Unable to bullshit a believable nightmare, you decided to twist the truth of a recent one that you did, in fact, have. To Chris Evans. If it wasn’t for his openness, (and the whole ‘waking up together” thing) this would have felt extremely inappropriate.

“I was running from something. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see anything. But I was really scared. Like if I didn’t run fast enough someone was going to- um. Pass away, violently,” the euphemistic language felt silly, but a part of you just couldn’t get the actual words out. “And then I turned the corner, and I saw you. Just, lying there. Your clothes were stained with…” You trailed off, hearing your voice breaking as you recounted the nightmare you had starring your best friend. “I couldn’t stop it.”

If it was possible, Chris pulled you even closer into his side, close enough for you to catch the calming scent of lavender which you assumed was his shampoo.

“Sweetheart,” He spoke so lovingly that you almost forgot you didn’t know anything about the guy. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m alive, see? I will always be here, no matter what. Feel this?” He tightened his hold on you. You nodded, grasping his large hand in yours. “As long as I have you, I have someone to live for. And I take that very seriously. I know Buck upset you yesterday and put that idea in your head, but he didn’t mean it.”

Buck upset you? Bucky Barnes upset you? Not Sebastian?

“Hmm?” Chris- no, Steve, hummed, encouraging you to reply.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn’t mean that! Look, how about we get ready and meet everyone for breakfast?”

You nodded and your heart soared when you felt a soft kiss placed on the crown of your head, before he shifted. The warmth of his arm left you, allowing goosebumps to dot your arms. When he stood up, only in his pyjama pants, you once again averted your eyes. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you hoped your flustered state wasn’t noticeable. Feeling his eyes on you again as he pulled on a shirt, you pulled the covers away yourself. Panic struck you when you realised that you weren’t sure whether your clothes would be in the same place as his, but followed your instinct to the dresser in an attempt to look like you knew what you were doing. What happens when he discovers that you’re a stranger? What was ‘your’ life like here? There’s one way to find out.