#i woke up from a. very weird dream. where in the dream i got hurt. and irl. i hurt a little where i got hurt. ive had this happen before its

[driftawayomnichord]

Genshin characters react to you sleeping on the floor (_ _).｡o○

This is just pure fluff, teeth rotting, sleep deprived fluff with some crack. No need for warnings other than the fact this isn’t proof read (-_-)zzz (Kaeya, Diluc, Wriothesley, Zhongli)

*THUD*

Kaeya

Chilly, it’s a bit too chilly for spring. A little ironic Kaeya can’t handle the cold, but there he is shifting in his sleep trying to get warm under to covers. Reaching over to the other side of the bed to get his personal heater to warm him up, he notices that his hand doesn’t reach his lover’s body. In fact he doesn’t feel anything, not even your pillow. Still exhausted and half asleep he calls out for you but no answer.

Standing up and rubbing his eyes he gets up thinking you must’ve went downstairs for some reason. Heading down the stairs he feels sleepy but determined to get you upstairs he continues walking still freezing. Getting to the kitchen he looks around and…

“Why did i come here…” Kaeya asked himself out loud and stayed there, in complete darkness not moving whatsoever. Two minutes of standing still, staring at the wall he gives up trying to remember why he got down and started heading back to his bedroom.

Walking through the door of the shared room he then finally notices. You’re not in bed.

“Must be downstairs getting water…” he thought and laid down.

…

“I was JUST in the kitchen!” He suddenly understood the meaning of the visit to the kitchen. But where are you?? He suddenly jumped from the bed and shouted your name, now slightly concerned.

“Huh- what? Where?” You jump up from the ground…from the other side of the bed, still clutching one of your pillows you brought down when you slid off the bed and hit the ground. Somehow not waking up.

Kaeya looked towards the source of the sound, puzzled for a moment, blue eyes staring down at you, head barely visible from the disheveled bed sheets.

“How…how long have you been there?” He asked, voice raspy from just waking up for the second time.

“I have no idea..” you said looking around yourself on the floor.

“You scared me for a moment there…don’t do that again.”

“You think i fell on purpose or what??”

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Diluc

Having a not so pleasant dream about dealing with drunkards in Angel Share, Diluc woke up from a sudden loud Thud sound.

Jolting up he looked around the dark room, at first not noticing anything until he looked over to the other side of the bed, not seeing you there…? In his half asleep brain the only logical explanation that popped up is a fatui attack. And they must’ve taken you away as revenge. At least that’s what he thought in that very moment.

Jumping out of the bed he summoned his claymore and prepared to head out of the bedroom to look for you and end fatui lives. He very carefully opened the door to his room as to not alert the nonexistent enemy, and poked his head out to scan his surroundings. Not noticing or hearing any other sound he headed down the staircase as silent as he can be.

Oddly enough to him, he didn’t see a single soul anywhere in the winery. He decided to walk up to the door and check the lock, thinking they must’ve headed out, when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around he ignited his great sword and pointed it at-…you?

“Whoa…ok- me snoring sometimes isn’t reason enough to end me is it?”

“I- i thought…the fatui- wait where did you come from? You weren’t in bed. Are you ok?? Did they hurt you?!” He was looking at you, still unable to connect the dots but obviously concerned for your wellbeing. Unusual for the great master Diluc to be seen in such state.

“Actually, i fell.”

“Fell…?”

“I was on the floor, heard a noice and saw you being…weird. Also, the fatui were here?” You say now slightly worried.

“Let’s go back to bed, i will explain tomorrow.”

“So you won’t point swords at me anymore?” That comment earned a side-eye.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Wriothesley

On the rare occasions Wriothesley is able to get out the Fortress of Meropede and visit you he would always sleepover. A part of that experience is you not being able to settle down in bed and just twist and turn like a raccoon stuck in a trash can. But Wriothesley is fine with that, finds it slightly funny even.

On this particular night it’s no different, after 40 minutes of not being able to find a good spot to sleep in bed you decide that perhaps the bed itself is the issue. So the only obvious solution is plopping on top of the Duke and using him as a mattress.

After 30 minutes of complete silence, both of you finally drifted off to sleep when very slowly you start sliding off him to the side of the floor, dragging both him, the bed sheets and a pillow along. And no one noticed until mid air you wake up, but alas too late to save yourselves.

Thud

“You’re…crushing me-“

Wriothesley shifts a bit, not exactly realising what happened, somehow doesn’t wake up- until he feels a slap on his arm.

“aIR- OFF OF ME!” You whisper yell at him.

“Oh, my apologies.” He gets up from you and stands up still a little confused. You stand up as well and dust yourself off, rubbing your head thanks to you hitting it on the night stand on the way down.

“You ok there?” Asked the Duke jokingly, grabbing your hand away from the spot you’ve been rubbing in an attempt to soothe it a bit and checking it.

“I don’t know which is worse…the concussion or getting crushed by a full Clockwork Meka. I might not make it after this.” You exclaim dramatically, putting your hand up on your head as if you’d faint any second now.

“Oh, but of course, we should take care of your life threatening injuries as fast as we can. Shall i call for Sigewinne to assist?” He joked with you, now completely awake. “Or maybe even start preparations for your funeral?”

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Zhongli

Sometimes even a king sized bed isn’t enough for some, a great example - the dead geo archon, who when in a half human half adeptus form takes up almost the whole damn bed.

Especially that damn tail. Don’t get me wrong, you love it, it’s very fluffy and warm, but you swear it has a mind of its own. It sometimes just decides that it should push you off the bed, and the past 2 weeks that has happened…Every. Single. Night.

You’ve debated with yourself if you should just tell Morax that in his sleep he his tail attempts to end you on a monthly basis. But he seemed so comfortable in this form you decided against it and that maybe enduring the attitude of his tail is bearable.

So after a long day you finally head off to bed, not because you really need it as a god, it simply helps calm your nerves. Finally you drifted off to dreamland, where people can’t bother you at least for the time being. At least that’s what you hoped.

Upon Zhongli’s return home he starts to look for you and after a moment he spots you in the corner of his eye, you were taking a nap. He heads towards your shared bed, picks up a blanket and drapes it over your sleeping form. Staring at you for a moment before he decides on joining you in your nap time.

2 hours later you wake up from the impact of hitting the floor…and that was your last straw.

Zhongli as well wakes up from the sudden THUMP sound and notices you on the ground- absolutely fuming.

“IN OUR 3400 YEARS TOGETHER I’VE NEVER HAD THE URGE TO THROW YOU IN THE SEA SO BADLY I SWEAR!”

“What are you talking about-“ Zhongli gapes at you, shaken from your tone.

“THAT.” You point towards his tail. “That THING has been pushing me off the bed for decades. Actually that’s an understatement- CENTURIES! I will move to the desert i cannot stand this anymore!”

Zhongli finally realises why you’ve always preferred being on the opposite side of his tail. All this time together he has been the reason you cannot properly rest, which leads for guilt to wash over him.

“I truly apologise, I shall do my best from now on to refrain from bothering you with my tail and I promise to you that I am going to make up for this. You know i would never disturb you in your sleep on purpose, right?” He began apologising and explaining himself. Getting up from the bed he headed towards you and enveloped his arms and tail around you.

“Ugh…I cannot stay mad at you. But if this happens one more time you will sleep in Guili Plains from then on out.” You say without a single hint of joking in your tone.

*Gulp*

First ever one-shot, also first post here ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ Should I make another part?

[thepersonnamedsam]

mornings spent well - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader (basically gn, just one mention as bride)

summary: You woke up in a bed, where the sheets felt like a bad night out with your friends. And that’s exactly what happened the night before. 

pt. 2 / pt. 3

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, maybe a bit angst, generally fluff, google translated french

note: it’s weird writing about existing people, so just ignore the awkwardness plus it’s not proofread 

masterlist / taglist

Your head was spinning, and you felt like you would throw up any second if you moved your body more. You closed your eyes in hopes the world would stop spinning. Breath in, breathe out. You tried to remember what happened last night, but all that came to your mind, or more your mouth, was that awful taste of tequila.

You didn’t like tequila, its taste is weird, you don’t understand the salt and lime thing and it makes you do questionable choices. Like waking up in someone’s bed. That’s exactly what happened, because those sheets weren’t itching like crazy, and they actually felt cozy.

You lifted those cozy sheets to discover nothing. You weren’t naked, you were wearing shirt and underpants? And your socks are still on? Who undressed you last night and they were too polite to actually undress you? Not that you complained, you’d rather wear this than nothing.

With a sigh you wanted to get up without puking. But the moment you were ready to take the first step of sitting up the door opened.

You looked to your left and there was an empty bedside. The covers were pulled back and you saw the crease in the pillow, obviously from someone sleeping on it. You still weren’t sure where you were. This wasn’t the bedroom of your best friend nor was it of someone you knew and had been at their home.

The person standing in the doorway watched your every move, from looking at the bedside to wandering your gaze over the bedroom and finally landing on him. He saw you looking at him and locking eyes. A familiar feeling overtook both of your bodies, and you just couldn’t place what that feeling was.

The handsome man was still looking at you and you couldn’t lift your gaze from him as well. His hand reached his neck where he scratched it. As he took his hand back down you saw it, a silver wedding band. You slept in a married mans bed?! You lifted both your hands to your face to rub your eyes and that’s when your silver wedding band sprung in your eyes.

You had a wedding band? And the same one as the man standing in the doorway?

He cleared his throat and you looked at him. “This is awkward”, he said as he was scratching his neck once again, this time with his right hand. You cleared your throat too, nut trusting your voice after too much tequila from last night.

“Qu’est-ce qu’on va faire, merde. What are we gonna do, shit.” So, he spoke French. But you still didn’t know his name. “I guess, I mean looking at the evidence on our hands, I guess we are married?” Your voice went quieter the more you spoke. You were still hoping it wasn’t true or a dream, but his answer let those hopes disappear in a second.

“Oui, I guess we are married. You woke up in my bed and we both have a ring on our ring finger, that counts as something right?”

You let your body hit the mattress. Your head still hurting, not spinning as much, but still hurting like a bitch. And it made processing the new information very hard. “Okay, so let me get it straight; we don’t know each other, but we got married last night?” Your questionable look made him scoff.

“I know you, what are you talking about?” Now it was you who was scoffing. What did he mean by ‘I know you’? You were thinking hard, where could you have seen this man before. “Charles, Charles Leclerc, we met last week in that coffee shop where you work, and you gave me your number on the coffee cup? Do you recall?”

It hit you like a brick, of course you remember! You couldn’t believe you forgot that gorgeous face. You gave him your number, but he never texted you.

“You never texted me”, you stated. His face twisted into an apologetic look. “I texted you last night?” He was shrugging and you could see his whole upper body tense under the action. This man was built like a Greek statue. “I was in this club with my friends, and I was feeling lonely, that’s when I remembered I had put your number into my phone, so I texted you.”

“And what happened next?”, you had to ask, how did they go form texting to marrying? “You showed up and we took some tequila shots and that’s all I can remember.” His face said it all, the look of confusion and sorrowness. He didn’t know how they got from shots to this.

This was a disaster. All of this is not how you like to spend your mornings. And he didn’t like it that much as well.  

He lifted his body from the doorframe and started to walk towards you. He was just a breathtaking view. “Au moins j’ai épousé une belle mariée. At least I married a beautiful bride.”

He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing on this planet. And he thought you were, he thought it the moment he saw you behind the coffee machine. He was so glad he discovered your number on his cup, because he was too afraid to ask for it. Though he was confident in most of his tasks, especially girls, he just couldn’t seem to find his confidence when he first looked at you.

He has no clue how he ended up marrying you a week later. He asked himself where the hell you two could’ve gotten married. You were in Monaco and not Las Vegas. Did you just go to the registry office and asked to be married? You were drunk as hell; how would any civil servant legally marry you? Were you even legally married? You were just wearing rings, that doesn’t mean you two actually got married.

His body hit the bed as he sat down, and you felt the mattress dip down on his side. And as he took his phone form the bedside table you admired his back. His muscles flexing under his every move. Fascinated by his back you didn’t notice how he had sighed multiple times after another.

“We are legally married; I just found the certificate in my emails.” His head now turned to look at you. His eyes staring into yours. Realization hit, you were no longer single and are actually married to this man in front of you. You blinked, once, twice, a hundred times maybe, you didn’t know. 

You couldn’t believe it, you were married. “Do you think we should like, get a divorce?”, your voice was shy, you didn’t want to insult him. You didn’t want him to feel like you wouldn’t be married to him. Because you would. 

Would you not have married him if you weren't drunk? Because he would have. He would marry you again in heartbeat. “If you want to, we have to be married for at least 12 months until we can get a divorce. I say we at least try to live a life as a married couple?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes. And you couldn’t say no to those eyes, it would be cruel. 

“12 months? How do you know that?” - “ I just googled it”, he shrugged his shoulders again. “I guess we could try, I don’t think I would mind it”, your voice once more shy, not sure if he heard what you just said. His eyes lit up; “Really? You would try?” You smiled at him and just nodded your head. 

“Can I kiss you?”, he asked with hopeful eyes. You nodded again and before you even closed your eyes, his body was turned towards you and his lips on yours. His lips as soft as a cloud and the kiss so sweet like sugar. You couldn’t believe it, kissing you husband, what a weird sentence going through your brain. 

“I guess I have to put your new name into my contacts”, you laugh at him as he removed his lips from yours. He smiled and said: “And what would that be?” As you typed in his new contact name he tried to sneak a glance but he didn’t succeed. Husband was now gracing the top of they're messenger chat. 

He smiled as soon as he saw it. And he couldn’t stop smiling. He was smiling like a little boy who just got ice cream. His face even started hurting a bit after smiling so much. He was sure he’d have muscle ache the next day. But you were smiling too. He was making you happy and you didn’t know how or why. He just did and you were content with that. You didn’t question why your heart fluttered every time you looked at him or how he made you smile with just a short glance. Everything just felt normal and right, like it had been that way for ages. 

°°°

next part

[petew21-blog]

Teen Wolf - Alpha needs his pack, Pt. 4

Sheriff Stilinski had to be late at work. Again. Sheriff can't have too much free time. Maybe that's why he chose to do the job years ago.

The events at Beacon Hill recently started to take an unexpected turn. Yeah there was crime before, but now mutilated bodies were turning up in random places. Sheriff's departement prohibited the inhabitants to leave their homes late at night for their safety and got back up colleagues from another town.

His colleague deputy Parrish was along his side for most of the time. Sheriff trusted him. After all, they both went through some seriously weird stuff in this town and could rely on each other.

They were working late at night, staring into a computer, reviewing their case. Trying to find a good lead.

Parrish:"I feel that the person or group who's doing this is trying to confuse us and leasing us elsewhere"

Sheriff;"Yeah, but we won't figure that out until we go into the wrong direction."

Parrish:"Precisely. Now, look these bodies..." they both turned their heads to the side. They would have sworn that the glove next to them had moved. "Did you see it move too?"

Sheriff shrugged it off:'"You know what. It's late. We're tired. We're seeing things. Let's go home and figure it out tommorow. What do you think?"

Parrish "Yes, sir. Good idea"

They left the building. Now standing next to their cars.

Sheriff couldn't help it but notice how much bigger Parrish's body has become. "You're working out again?"

Parrish:"Yeah, thought I could get more into it and maintain that routine. I don't wanna beckme one of those cops who feel tired all the time and have medium/bad bodies"

Sheriff felt a bit offended

Parrish:"Oh not you, sir. You look good. Actually really good for your age"

Sheriff:"Parrish, stop talking"

Parrish mid sentence:"Yes, sir"

Sheriff looked him up and down. It was true unfortunately. He didn't feel as good as he did before. He now felt too tired to do sports. He would love to work out, but it's different when you're young. Man, if only He were as young and as good looking as Parrish again.

Someone screamed in the woods. Both men instincively grabbed their gun and headed toward that direction.

When they arrived to that place, they found another body. But what was strange was the fact that it must have been dead for some time now.

A dark mist filled the place. It was so dark they didn't see each other

Sheriff:"Parrish? Are you here? Parrish can you hear me?"

Parrish:"Sheriff? Sir, where are you? Sir, this is Parrish. Can you here me over the coms, over."

Sheriff:"Yes I can hear you. What is that suppose to be again? Over"

The could feel a force fighting it's way inside of them. The mist entered their bodies.

Their eyes were dark for a second and suddenly normal again. But as if hypnotised, they got up and went back to their homes as if nothing happened. Not speaking to each other. Not doing anything. Just driving back home.

Sheriff woke up first. He was in a bed. How did he get there? And whose bed is this?

He looked around. The bedroom was nice and cosy. But he didn't recognise it. He got up. "Wow. That was way easier then I'm used to"

He looked down and found himself in grey sweatpants. Also, a very ripped body now instead of his own

"What the hell?" a young voice came out.

"Is anybody here? Hello?" he looked around and left to the living room where he found a mirror.

"Parrish, there you are. What happ..."

He stopped. His reflection did the same things as he did. How is that possible?

He tried to wave and so did Parrish

"I must be dreaming" he pinched himself on his new biceps and it hurt like he'll

He slapped his face and it did hurt again.

"Parrish, why am I you? This shouldn't be possible."

He got closer to inspect his face. His different eyes. His teeth. His jawline. His hair. Everything was different

He flexed his biceps. "Nice one, Parrish. That working out is paying off". He patted his abs and wanted to continue to explore a bit, but stopped

"Jesus, Noah. What the hell are you doing? You would invade someone's privacy like that? No, I can't do that. I have to find my body"

A call came to his new phone. It was his number

Sheriff:"Hello?"

Parrish:"Is that you, sir? Ehm ehm. Sorry I'm still getting used to your voice"

Sheriff:"Parrish? Are you at my place?"

Parrish:"Yes, sir. Your bedroom in your house"

Sheriff:"Ok, then wait there. I'm coming. I think this might be the direction to distract us from the case" he turned off the call

As he looked at himself in the mirror he found out that while he was calling with his body, he unknowingly took his left hand and held now his new dick. He thought about it for a sec.

"Ah what the hell. It's not like this will happen ever again. Might as well enjoy it. He'll wait a bit for me"

Sheriff wanted to respect his privacy still so he thought he wouldn't look at first. But you just can't not check out your colleagues dick when you have their body. Can you?

It was really nice. Shorter than his, but thicker. Slightly hairy, but trimmed.

Sheriff:"That's quite a package, son. You are a grower and I love that."

He was now edging on the bed. Wanting that amazing feeling to never stop. His old body isn't that sensitive anymore to touch. But damn. This cock felt nice

He didn't cum yet, when suddenly a woman entered the room:"Need some help with that? Stud"

Sheriff:"Oh, boy"

Maria got close to him and began sucking on his dick. He was really close so he shot the load almost immediately

She laughed. Sheriff:"I'm so sorry, I was really close before and then you just..."

Marie:"Finished you. And didn't have to work for it"

Sheriff smiled nervously remembering that he was suppose to leave already

Maria:"I think you should repay me now" and started throwing her clothes on the floor

Sheriff still on the ned:"Look I told sheriff I would leave. I really gotta go"

Maria:"Sure. And that why you were jerking off by yourself"

She got on top off him. Already naked. And horny.

Maria:"Since you're all dry now, you gotta use some other muscle, you big boy"

She sat on top of his face, not giving him a choice but to start licking. Sheriff was hesitant, but thought to himself:"Ahhh what the hell. Gotta enjoy being young"

Yet another anonymous request to continue our Teen Wolf story 😁

Could you do a story where Sheriff Stilinski swaps bodies with Deputy Parrish? Maybe the sheriff being jealous of the deputy’s muscles and youth.

[cecedownbad]

Hold On

Summary: A missing child's case resurfaced so many memories you wished to keep buried. Sure enough, seeking comfort from the heavy feelings came by as a form of a person. [Spencer Reid X Fem!Reader] Part 1.

Warnings: Death of a child, made up case, made up case numbers, abusive mother, absent father, no Y/N, there is a last name: Cyrus. Hurt/ Comfort. A two part fic, Spencer is a supportive friend here. Pretty much a whole episode of CM. Probable inaccurate science facts, not that great at writing mysteries, I think, don't mind the weird conclusions. Self indulgent in all it's glory (minus the fem part), my apologies. Proof read but I'm blind so lmk if there are bothersome errors.

Word Count: 4.7k

Based on very sad songs that I won't put up cause we deserve better. Binged all 16 seasons in 2 weeks, it was worth it.

Enjoy

"I was always ashamed to take. So I gave. It was not a virtue. It was a disguise."

-Anaïs Nin

"Mom, where's Steven?" A dark room, with nothing but a single bed, and a desk that contained one clock furnished the surroundings. The ticking of the clock resonated within you, each tick causing you to step forward to a door ajar, light seeping through it.

Not too bright, not too dark, moonlight streaming in through the cracks much like a distant scream in a faraway place. "Sweetie? Go back to bed, you have to go to school tomorrow." A still voice poured in, the voice echoed in almost engulfing you but your feet already brought you face to face with what caused all your nightmares. "Steven has not come back from his play time. Where is he, Mom?" Your voice is so soft yet embroidered in concern. "Steven is okay, go back to bed." The woman in front of you smiled, her smile was stretched. Her eyes harboured nothing as if you stared right into the abyss.

Yet, her face was...gone, her eyes were full, her smile, so impeccable but where was her face, why couldn't you remember?

"Oh my sweet girl, you look just like me." She beamed but you stood there confused, to which you backed away from the room and entered your bedroom.

Nothing was out of place, everything remained as it was, like that day, what day was it?

When your eyes took in the room you noticed a small juice box, the very same one Steven had drunk, right after he...wait, who was 'he'?

Then you heard her, "I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?" The anger that seethed from her caused nothing but fear to blanket you. She towered over you, whispering, "I took Steven to a better place."

That was when you knew, your little brother, was never coming back from his play time, he was never going to drink his favourite juice again. That was his fault, he just didn't listen to Mother. This is what happens to children who disobey.

You turned around and smiled at her, "Mother," you called out, "I'll be a good girl, I'll never disappoint you."

All the while you quivered, knowing that your little brother was gone for good, "Steven, I'll find you, I promise."

'I promise, Steven...'

'Who's Steven?'

Your eyes shot awake like you'd been shot with a bullet to your gut, 'Ugh, what?' The sudden rush of light filtered in, waking you from your short nap and making you rub and squint your eyes, then you felt how sticky your back had felt, the palms of your hands damp from sweat. 'You were calling out to someone just now, you said, "I'll find you, I promise, Steven" in your sleep.' Spencer questioned you, his eyes gathering that you showed signs of having a bad dream.

'Uh, nothing, it's nothing, just haven't got much sleep, is all.' You brush off the question, looking around, you get up from your seat, taking in that you were returning from a case in Wichita and the team was on the jet back to Quantico. You excused yourself to the bathroom, the size of it and the dim light were not ideal but you needed to freshen up.

Twisting the faucet, you let the water run and washed your face, the cold water woke you up right away. A sudden rush of relief had hit you, a sense of comfort knowing that your bad dream could not seep into reality, the safety of it was that you knew nothing could get to you when you were surrounded by the best agents you could ever meet.

It happened not too long ago when you were invited to join the BAU, thanks to a recommendation from the Criminal Investigation Division.

Grabbing a tissue from the dispenser by the sink, you wiped your hands and face, throwing the used tissue in the slot made for waste disposal right below the sink. A sigh sounded out of you, with one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straightened your clothes and walked out of the loo. 'How are you doing?' Spencer asked you as you sat in the seat before him, his right hand holding an open book, which you presume is written in Russian. 'Yeah, I just had a bad dream, nothing big.' You once again dismiss him.

It wasn't exactly an alarming thing to have a bad dream. On the contrary, you were accustomed to having nightmares and bad dreams but this one was different, recurring in all its forms. The sounds, the sights, were familiar but all the more terrifying, there wasn't a feeling so twisted as this one. 'I don't think it was just a bad dream, your breathing rate increased from the normal 12 to 18 breathes per minute to 25 to 30 in the three minutes after you woke up and you were sweating profusely. Are you sure you're okay?' He breathed out, his eyes already reading your every movement, catching how you twitched when he caught that you were not telling him the truth. 'Reid...thank you for worrying but I—'

'Alright, crime fighters, how's everyone doing, all tucked in?' Saved by the bell as it goes, Penelope popped up on the jet's screen, 'Yeah, can't wait to get some sleep.' JJ groaned.

'Uh about that, I'm really sorry for putting this on you guys, I know you guys are tired and I hate doing this right after a case and- I have some bad news.'

'What is it, Garcia?' Emily asked

'Okay so you have another case, it's a missing child case in Bakersfield, a 6 year old boy named Stephen Turner, last seen in his, oh this is so sad, in his room. A report was sent 12 minutes ago.' The name made you freeze, you could hear your heart beat quickening, the way it felt like it could run for miles was a pain you were sure you put behind. 'Garcia is that Steven or Stephen?'

'Oh I'm pretty sure it's Stephen, my love.'

'Okay, thanks...' it wasn't relief that washed over you, but the name carried a heavy weight.

'Bakersfield, California, Right?' Luke clarified. 'Yes newbie, I'll have the files sent to you immediately on your tablets and the rest should be at the local Police department there, Good luck guys!' Garcia signed off immediately after.

'Okay, we know the drill, we only have 24 hours or we'll be looking for a body. I'll inform the pilot to change course. When we land, JJ and Rossi go to the Turner house and speak with the parents. Reid go with them, we need to know how he was taken from his room. Luke and Tara, I want you to scout the neighborhood, maybe someone saw something.' She turned to face you, 'Cyrus, you'll be with me, we'll speak with the Chief there.' Emily gave everyone their designated tasks.

Everyone exchanged nods with their partners. You exchanged a glance with Emily, standing up from your seat, you chose to stand all the while till it was necessary to be seated when the jet landed.

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

'Chief Marks, this is SSA Cyrus, I'm Unit Chief Prentiss, What have we got so far on Stephen Turner?' She quickly shook hands with the PD Chief, You took it as a chance to observe the department, a missing child case gave you little time for formalities. 'So far, zilch, I have some of my officers posted around the neighbourhood, even questioned across the street, said they saw nothing.'

'My Agents are already there, let's hope they turn up with something new.' Emily informed the chief and led you both to an empty conference room, informing you that this was the only available room at such short notice. 'Chief Marks, would you mind bringing in prior missing child case reports, preferably going back 20 years.' You asked before he got the chance to leave, there was still one nagging question that you had to rule out.

Could your mother be involved? Or was it your paranoia getting the best of you? but a job was a job, if an MO matched with an old case, narrowing down suspects was a huge load off.

'Anything you need.' He answered in the affirmative after a pause.

'Something in mind?' Emily asked you.

'This is my hometown, I've read my fair share of missing child cases but if there's a chance one of them bares any similarities, we might be able to narrow down our search.' You explained, opening boxes of the gathered information on Stephen.

'Yes, I'm sorry I forgot, after the case maybe you can go see your folks?' The thought was so lighthearted but you had gulped in guilt at the words, 'No, we need to go back to the Academy...my folks and I aren't in good terms.'

'Oh, let me know if there's anything I can do?' She asked softly, which you smiled to in response, 'Of course.'

Emily was always a friend before a Unit Chief when she caught on to indications of a slight change in behaviour, it made it a whole lot easier to speak to her about things you wouldn't bother about with your old Unit Chief.

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

'What have you got so far?'

'Nothing solid, of the two stacks of cases brought in, 2/3ds hardly match the MO and, the remaining few, let's say it didn't end well for the kids.' You gritted your teeth at the last sentence.

JJ, Rossi and Spencer walked in right at that moment, 'What did you find?' Emily asked the three.

'There wasn't a sign of struggle in the room, it's likely the UnSub and Stephen knew each other or he could have been drugged, there was no sign of a break-in either but the spare key that was left under one of the plants was missing, UnSub definitely planned the kidnapping and was aware of the layout of the house.' Reid informed.

'Mom and Dad are worked up, said they didn't hear anything from the kids room upstairs, hasn't gotten into any fights at school or kids around the area or within the family.' Rossi states.

'Yeah, Joy, Stephen's mom, said he was well liked, got good grades, knew not to trust strangers,' JJ took a deep breath, 'He's a healthy 6 year old boy and apart from not being athletic, he's just one normal kid in a family of 4.'

'Wait, 4?' You stopped JJ.

'Yeah...he has an older—'

'Sister? Say 11 or 12?' You completed, the fear inside you built. 'Yes, 12, how, how did you know?'

That same empty feeling drained out of you, fear blanketed whatever memory you recalled from this place. 'Good guess, I think, is the family here I, uh, I want to speak with them, maybe the sister even.'

'I can ask them to come in but why?'

'I think she might know something or maybe even the UnSub.' You breathed, 'I'm gonna go out for some air, Emily?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Thanks.' You nod slowly and walk out of the conference room and out of the PD. You leaned back on the wall, sunlight barely visible due to it now being autumn, orange-tinted leaves lightly grazed the pavements. Passersby walking hand in hand or holding on to a warm drink. It's a pleasant scene for the beginning of the most painful nightmares.

'...Steven.'

'You said his name again.'

'Ah! Jeez, Reid! You scared the crap out of me, don't do that again!' Stepping back you raised your hands ahead of you in defense.

'Sorry, I brought you coffee.' He offered.

'Thank you, what are you doing? Out here, I mean.'

'I know it's a little bit of an unspoken rule that we don't profile on the team but-'

'But, you profiled me,' you sighed, this was expected, you knew he was only worried about you but it never occurred to you that he'd come looking for you. Being in the BAU for more than a year doesn't make you chummy with each other, especially with Dr. Spencer Reid, or so you've heard.

He was cautious around you, he was not afraid, just that he could tell you preferred solitude compared to the average population. But he never took the chance that when you displayed more emotion than you would otherwise, to walk away. Always asking if you were alright, leaving you small treats at your desk knowing that it helps you. You kept to yourself and he respected that, in turn, so did you. Not many catch on to your subtle way of pulling back from too much physical contact, or the way you'd always make the person before you speak, knowing they had no chance of asking you about the details of the life you lived.

In a way, admiring his skills as a profiler was easy to come by. More so his little actions that left you thinking that he was one of the few people you'd consider opening up to. So listening to his observations was, if not intriguing, worth betting on.

'Okay, tell me what you got.' You let him have at it.

'Well, I would go into statistics but I'll keep it short. You have been on edge from the moment Garcia mentioned your hometown and judging by the way you keep mentioning this person's name, who I'll assume is someone you know from here and bad...things happened, causing you to have nightmares now more frequently maybe due to an anniversary.' He laid out like you were an open book. Who were you kidding? Where would he be if he wasn't good at his job?

Your brows knitted and you let out a painful chuckle but you knew that wasn't all he figured out. 'What else?'

'You had also correctly estimated Stephen's sister's age simply based on the fact that they are a family of 4, which tells me that this isn't the first this has happened here, in fact the very first time it did, it was very close to you or maybe you were involved.' He finished the last of his deduction and looked at you, searching for a mistake in his findings, it concerned you after all.

'You got me, ha. That name, Steven, he um, he was—' you tried completing your sentence, your lips began shaking and you looked away from Spencer because other people seeing you cry was never on your bucket list. 'Steven was my little brother.' You bit the words but it spilled out in all it's shapeless glory.

'Was?' Spencer questioned.

'He went missing, 20 years ago...he was 6, just like Stephen and I was...11, just like that little girl.' It took everything in you, every bone and muscle to let out what you couldn't for 20 years. 'Do you know what happened to him?' Spencer quietly asked. 'All I know was that my mother had brought him out to play and he never came back, whenever I asked all she would do was look at me like maybe I should've been the one that was gone.'

'Does anyone know? Someone had to be searching for him—'

'Reid, no one knew my brother, they...forgot him, or chose to. I couldn't ask what had happened or go to the police station because my mother, she would tell me he was okay.' The warm streaks of salty tears had left your eyes, you wanted them to stop, it was shame and regret that filled your mind. 'Four days from now would be his anniversary of the day he disappeared.' Wiping your cheek and turning to face Spencer, you caught a glimpse of a man that looked like he knew.

Knew how much you were hurting, how that showing this side of yourself was only making it worse.

'I—'

'I'm sorry to interrupt but the Turner family is here.' An officer from the department had called you in. 'Yes, I'll be right there...Reid, thank you for the coffee and for uh, listening, I'll fill you in on the rest if you want.'

He subtly nodded and you both ushered inside.

You spotted the family and exchanged a quick greeting, expressing your apologies and understanding of the situation you began asking questions and later focused on asking the little girl, who was shaken up but put on a brave front to stay strong. Braver than the parents, you note.

'Hi, Tina, right? How are you feeling?' you bent down to meet her eye level. 'I'm fine, it's Stephen I'm worried about and you should be too.' She strongly expressed. Her concern for her brother was what made you smile inwardly, 'We are, Tina but we're going to ask you some questions. Is that okay with you?' Quickly gaining the quiet approval of the parents you proceeded.

'Are you and Stephen close?'

'Yeah, he's very clumsy so I have to look out for him a lot, and because he's so short, I don't like people thinking they can pick on him.' She answered true. 'That's very good Tina, you're a wonderful sister, tell me, lately has there been anyone you know who's been close to Stephen besides you or your parents?'

'No not really, he's got two friends but they both moved away...oh!' The girl had a moment of realisation. 'There's this lady that visits our house sometimes. My mom and dad usually say hi to her, and she keeps asking me if Stephen's been studying well.' She completed.

'That's Rosa, she's the head of the neighbourhood watch, she was with me even when I was in labour  at the hospital here, suggested the name too, you don't think?' The mother's face contorted a little as her mind raced.

How could you forget your mother's name, she flaunted it for as long as you stayed with her. Rosa Cyrus, a symbol of hope so domineering, it paralysis any that gets too close to its core, that's who she was, or who she saw herself as.

'We can't say for sure ma'am, but you should stay here. Thank you, Tina, what you said was very helpful. We'll find your brother, I promise.' You stuck your hand out and she grabbed it quickly, giving you a wobbly handshake her little hands could gather. 'Uhm, Ms. FBI Agent ma'am, I really want to see my brother again, please.'

You sucked in whatever painful thought you gathered and gave the family a smile.

'Thank you, please find him.' The father could barely put up a brave front, his face already riddled with tear stains. 'We will.'

'Good job.' Rossi was outside the door, he gently patted your shoulder. 'Hmm, we need to find him.'

'And we will, after all, with a team like ours and not to mention boy genius, we'll find the kid.' Rossi's words brought comfort.

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

You immediately called Garcia once you entered the conference room where everyone was gathered, 'Find the location of Rosa Cyrus, any properties in her name and any known associates, She might have moved to this neighbourhood 10 years ago, also I need you to trace her past phone calls and bank transactions.' You felt your patience running thin, you knew this woman from the moment her name-dropped, she was your mother after all. Now all you wished for was that you got rid of all traces of her, including her last name.

'Um Hi?'

'Garcia, now.'

It wasn't your intention to be demanding, or sound angry, emotions getting in the way of work has rough consequences. 'O-okay, I'll be back as soon as possible.' You let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed your forehead. 'Who is she?' Tara asked you, and you paused and looked at her, it was then that you caught on that everyone in the room had a torn look of concern directed at you.

'My mother.' You took your chance and here spills the truth.

'Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?' Emily asked, she wasn't asking as a friend but as your chief. 'Tina said that Rosa Cyrus had been visiting their house every now and then, checking in on Stephen, claiming that she was only doing her duty as the head of the neighbourhood watch. The mother said she was even present when he was born, and gave him his name too.'

'But why—'

'Okay guys, this is very suspicious,' Garcia checked back in right on time.

'Rosa Cyrus, born and raised in Bakersfield, once married to a construction worker named Daniel Carter. Later she gave birth to one, oh uhm, little girl-' you shut your eyes at the mention of your name, '-and she went into labour once again... the only thing specified about the baby was the gender, it was a baby boy, no records after that, hospital records don't mention a name, date of birth is listed but it looks like at the time they didn't stay in long to mention details. It was like this boy didn't exist.' Garcia sympathetically continued on, you knew she would want to be there for you right now, 'She got a divorce 6 years after her son was born but from her contact history, it looks like Daniel and her never lost touch.'

'That sorry bitch.' You whispered, more so as an undertone, it was loud enough that Luke and Spencer looked up at you.

'Okay this is where things get weirder, she started frequenting the Turner house since the birth of Stephen. A camera feed shows that she was on the way to the Turner's house the day before he went missing.' She finished up.

'Yeah, I asked the neighbours across the street if they saw anything but they hadn't, they did hear a car leave the scene at roughly the same time Reid narrowed down the time he was taken.' Luke filled in. 'Roughly between 11:30 pm to 2 am, which was around the time Joy went to check in on Stephen. Based on the time they heard the car fleeing, he was missing at around 12:35 pm.' Emily gave a quick nod at Spencer's deduction.

'Thank you Garcia, any known whereabouts on Daniel?'

'Searching now and there, the last known location was the police—He was right there. Okay uhh, sending you his address and Rosa's current address, please catch these a-holes!'

'Oh that's a done deal. Garcia?'

'Yeah?'

'My little brother's name was Steven, please, don't forget.' That was a plea. A plea that she understood right away, one that also was directed to everyone in that very room.

The two of you might be at a distance but you could tell she smiled on the other end, 'I won't, sugar.'

With Garcia hanging up, now things have increased in pace, you have a name and a face to give to your unsub all that's left now is to find them and the boy.

'Tara, I need you to tell the chief to pull up an APB on Rosa and Daniel.' Emily handed out orders, and Tara was just as quick to respond, 'Luke and JJ, head over to Daniel's address, If he's there, bring him in and be careful, he is likely on alert since he visited the station. Rossi, Reid and I will be on our way to Rosa's, Cyrus—'

'I know, I'll stay here, I'm too close to the case now.'

'Yes but also, if Luke and JJ get back here with Daniel, he'll demand to see you, There's a chance he knows you're here and that might convince him to assume you would be on his side if he asks for you, you'll only meet him with Tara or Reid in the room with you, can you do that? I need you as level-headed as possible.' She looked you straight in the eyes, which caused you to pause for a good minute to assess all possibilities.

Would you be okay seeing someone you haven't in 20 years? Someone who pretty much played a part in your brother's disappearance?

You took that one minute to take a breath, record all scenarios and with a tight chest you gave Emily your response, 'Yes, if it will get him to talk, I'll play my cards like I always do.'

'Good, let's get moving then.'

You sat down on one of the chairs, watching your team leave the PD, getting armed and ready as they darted out but you didn't notice one more lingering figure. He was quiet but he didn't startle you again this time.

Spencer gave a single pat on the shoulder, but before he could leave the interaction, you placed a hand over his and held on to him. Though the touch startled him, from his gatherings, he noticed that you didn't look at him, you hung your head low but latched on to his fingers in a desperate attempt to feel comfort. Your bad dream suddenly seems to stray from your head and bend the strings of reality, nestling in unrest you didn't want to feel again.

You let out a quiet sniffle, with a daft smile you let go of the hand that brought you safety. 'Go.'

Moreover, he did. The fading figure of your colleague and now close friend, caused you to huddle into yourself.

You're going to be okay. A silent notion of sanity.

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

'Hey, got you something to eat.' Tara walked into the room and sat next to you, she carefully placed a package of Choux Pastry before you. Eyes darted to indicate a grateful gesture was about to be appreciated. Tara required no words for the way you'd carefully taken out the plate, digging in right away to know that this was the little thing that might keep you going, thank yous fell out of your mouth after a good bite. 'Take your time and eat it though, can't have a good agent choking on a choux pastry on a Tuesday.' She chided.

'So no dying on Tuesdays, duly noted doc.' A light breathy laugh left you. It was the small things, nobody asked or pleaded for an offer of gold to feel better about themselves, if anyone knew that, it was everyone at the BAU. 'We're all here if you need us, okay?' Her voice said it all, that was enough. 'I know, it's why I'm still here.'

Silence had fallen in the room, it wasn't heavy, not at all, but that didn't make Tara's fumbling with case files any quieter. 'You can ask me, you know?' You broke the silence, and the rustling of papers stopped.

'What?'

'I know you want to ask me something so go ahead, don't believe I have anything to hide...at this point anyway.'

She sighed and rose from her chair, 'I just, okay, she waited exactly 6 years to take Stephen, she named him, tried to intervene and raise him like he was her own. She named him after her—your brother, who no one knew existed. Clearly she's reliving an event. So, why Steven? What happened to him?' she began, 'She couldn't have simply waited for another child to be born in the right circumstances, there has to be another boy, that no one knows about who's missing, or maybe a person, an adult who would match Steven's description? This woman needs a trigger to have to wait to do something like this.'

'So you're saying, there's a chance Grace is a...serial killer?'

'She would know how to take care of the bodies, a place or method she knows well enough so that nothing odd would ever turn up.' Tara walked over to the pile of missing persons reports, looking through them with brows crossed. 'Wait, I think there was one case, a 16-year-old boy. He looked exactly how I'd imagine Steven to, check case number 000612-M5-034.' You got up from the chair, standing right by Tara with arms crossed. 'Okay, let's see, Conrad Miller, 16 years old, went missing on June 12th, 2007. Last seen by the local church with one of the volunteers, she was questioned once but was never linked as she had a solid alibi, her name was Grace Cyrus.'

Part 2

[asheurbanipal]

Where were they going without ever knowing the way? Ch. 1

on A03

<<Previous | Next>> |Next Episode

Summary:

No luggage. No gas in the truck. No memories. Waking up with amnesia in a shack in the desert, our heroes find themselves drifting down the highway with no specific direction in mind. The only thing driving them? We know each other, and know each other well. But how? And why? And what is this feeling that lives in the pit of my stomach when I look at you?

Deadpool/Wolverine

Mature

Words: 7652

Chapter 1/2 in series

Content: memory loss, amnesia, trauma, amputation, canon-typical violence

Chapter 1

It was hot. Dry. Sunlight pulsed on the backside of his closed eyes and there was a dusting of sand on his skin, caught in his body hair. He was sitting in a seat. A car seat? Jeep? Truck? Windows were down, letting in a splash of breeze, but they weren't moving. His body was heavy. He started blinking back into awareness, waiting for the shapes and colors in the distance to come together. His body was clad in yellow, but he wasn't quite yet able to make out the details of it. 

"Hey…bud…" someone was shaking his shoulder.

It was a reflex, a series of muscle memories that started in his chest. Metal sluiced from somewhere mid-way up his forearm, erupting from his knuckles into three sharp blades that inexplicably lived in his proprioception. 

"Fuck," he hissed. It hurt like a sonofabitch as the metal emerged from his skin, but the pain was familiar. He panted, checking around him, the pain waking him up the rest of the way. 

"You almost got me the first time with those, but I've got your attack pattern down." 

He turned to the voice and blinked at the man to his left, drawing the blades back in on some other reflex. The man was bald in a skin-hugging red jumpsuit that covered everything from the neck down. Burn victim, maybe? His head and face were heavily scarred. Very striking eyes. Not the color, but the soft angles of them under his hairless forehead. 

"I can put my mask back on if this freaks you out." The man in red circled his face with his hand. 

"No, no. Too fucking hot for that." He looked out over the landscape. Saguaro cactus. Brown hills and dirt. Scrubland. "Arizona?"

"I think, yeah," the man in red replied. "Was hoping to find a friendly neighborhood border agent before the truck ran out of gas." 

The man in yellow focused on his more immediate surroundings. Old pickup truck from before they started fucking up the bed to cab ratio. Two-doors. Cramped partial backseat that currently stacked with some nylon bags. A working man's truck. Light-neutral interior covered in dirt and sand and grime. 

"So we're gonna need to walk," the man in yellow decided. 

"Yep, that's why I woke you up. Looks like it'll actually stick this time." The man in red said something else, looking sideways over his shoulder, but the words disappeared into nothing. Afterward, he reached into the back. "Figure we water up a little bit first." 

"Yeah, yeah," the man in yellow agreed. "Can I ask you a question?" The man in red signaled he should proceed. "What's your name? Also…what's my name?"

The man in red stopped his rooting around and dropped one elbow to the center console. 

"You're Wolverine. You're an X-Men. You're famous. You've got some dog tags if you don't believe me."

Wolverine touched his fingers to his chest and found the chain. He pulled it up and confirmed what the man in red said to be true while he chattered on.

"Fifty percent certain I had a crush on you at some point. Only problem is I keep thinking you're supposed to be dead. Like, I have this weird impression I've loving held your skull in my hand. But also it's sort of like a dream? Everything's all sort of floaty, right now. I don't know.

"But if the etching on these sick gold-plated Deagles back here is an indicator, I'm Deadpool. Apparently. That's about all I got. I was hoping when you woke up, you might remember something."

"Fuck."

"Guess that answers that question." 

#####

Yeah, more than fifty percent certain I had…have…a crush on this man. It feels kinda…parasocial? 

He's hot as fuck, so that's not unexpected. 

How do I know him then, though? Why are we out here together?

fuck fuck fuck

The thing was, he couldn't remember anything else about Wolverine. Just: famous, X-men, important, dead/alive. He wasn't even totally sure he remembered what an X-Man was. Just another thing that felt Important. A group that…helps people? 

Okay, that feels super right. 

Every time he felt like he was remembering something, it slipped away. Or he re-remembered something he had already forgotten. He just couldn't hold on to anything. 

And his body hurt. God, how his body hurt. His skin. His bones. His organs. A low-level pain that floated through every cell in his body. His brain didn't jolt and jitter with the sensation, though. Something in the baser part of it was accustomed to the way these particular nerve endings fired. This must be a lifelong, deep-down kind of injury. Probably whatever turned him into eggs burned to the bottom of a pan. 

The heat of the sun as they struggled down the highway almost made it tolerable if just because it was something else to focus on.

"So what's the first thing you remember?" Wade asked. Talk. Fill the silence with noise. Distract himself from thinking too hard in the hope that everything would fill in itself. It was an impulse that came like breathing. 

"The truck," Wolverine barked sharply.

"Go back further, chicken strip. Fuckin' think." Deadpool punched him in the arm. Wolverine brandished his claws in a single motion, stopping them short of Deadpool's neck. 

"Don't fuckin' touch me, bub."

"Look, based on the twitching in my hands, I might actually know how to use these katanas on my back. So maybe we don't test the theory before we figure out what the fuck is going on. Hm? Kay, Wolvie?" 

Wolverine reluctantly pulled his claws back and dropped his arms. 

"Thank you." Deadpool nodded his head. "Now, if you could, please, what is the first thing you good and properly remember?"

Wolverine sighed then stared at the ground for a moment.

"Truck. Before that…you hauling me into the truck. Grabbing my ass?" Wolverine looked at him sideways. 

Oh, I absolutely did that. 

"Maybe accidentally. I apologize if my hand slipped. You're a heavy motherfucker." 

"Yeah, that's fair." Wolverine rubbed the bones of his hands. When Deadpool had lifted him, Wolverine's body clanged againt itself. Like metal on metal. That reminded Deadpool of something, but it wouldn't stick. It kept…floating away. 

"Before that I remember…sitting on the floor of a porch?" Wolverine shook his head through the memory. "Then the floor of a cabin. Totally empty. I remember looking at the ceiling and being totally pissed off."

"Ay, that's where I started, too. Waking up on the floor of a rundown shack next to you, peanut." He went to punch him in the arm again, then stopped short, thinking better of it. 

"You've been awake and alert the whole time since then?" Wolverine absolutely failed to hide the uneasiness in his voice. 

"Yeah. You've been in and out. Don't worry. I didn't violate you or anything."

"Wasn't worried about that until you said it." 

"Do I look like the type of guy to manhandle someone when they're vulnerable?"

Oh please dear god I hope I'm not that kind of guy.

Oh shit. Wait. I grabbed his ass. I am, aren't I?

motherfucker

"I don't know what kind of fucking guy you are. So…" And Logan slipped out a claw to punctuate his point. 

Why the fuck am I getting hard seeing that? This is some fucking Pavlovian shit. 

"I don't know shit about deserts, I'll admit," Wolverine said, looking along the horizon as the sun pulled lower, "but they get cold as fuck at night, right? Should probably consider how we're going to make it through here."

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow 

The memory flashed, pain coming with it. 

Rain. Flash flood. Washed out road. Two bodies moving against each other in the dark as they waited.

Then another memory laid on top. An older one. Something that belonged to a completely different era of his life. 

Stake out. MREs. Ammunition cache.

"There's a cave not too far from here. A nice one. Has supplies." Deadpool was saying the words before he realized they were leaving his mouth. Wolverine gave him another eyebrow raising look. "Trust me, kitty cat." 

#####

Well the man was right. That was something. 

Hidden by a rise off the road, they found a cave with a rickety wooden palette thrown across the opening. It didn't really look like anything buried among the piles of other refuse and trash. When they slipped through a small gap into the darkness beyond, though, they found an open space that had been organized with crates and barrels. A few lanterns hung from hooks screwed into the cave wall and benches had been arranged around a raised fire pit.

"We've been here before," Wolverine said. The smell is what caught him, a deep and rapid familiarity that jolted through his brain. 

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Probably how I knew about this place." Deadpool had put his mask on to protect his face from the sun, and he pulled it off in annoyance. 

"Don't need to be snippy with me." 

"Sorry, I'm just…hungry and in pain. Here." Deadpool stopped at a shelf along the back wall of the cave. "You a baked beans guy or a peaches guy?"

"Beans. Here, hold 'em out." Wolverine sliced through the top of the cans with a claw. He threw back a mouthful of beans as he dropped to one of the benches.

"That's slightly disgusting to watch, but also a little sexy." Wade sat on a bench across the way and started picking out peach slices with a knife. 

"Nobody asked you to watch, bub." Wolverine had shifted his focus to his hand, though, sliding the blade in and out a few times before bringing it all the way back in. It still hurt like a bitch, but now he at least could tell what was happening. The blade was slicing his skin as it came out, but the instant it slid back, the space between his knuckles healed up like nothing had happened. The way the rest of his arm felt after and during, there was probably more damage happening down in the bone and muscle that was also auto-healing. 

What kind of freak was he?

"Hey, Pool, you know anything else about me? If I'm famous and all."

"What's weird is I feel like I know a lot about you. I mean a lot. Like my brain is full of factoids about you. But I just can't access them; they're locked away. It's fucking wild." He munched on a peach. "Mutants mean anything to you? I keep having this realization that I'm not one, and that's important somehow."

Wolverine found himself reacting to the world. A little pull across his chest. That's what he was. Okay. There was a word for it. He could settle into that and live there. 

"You got anything about me in there?" Deadpool tapped his temple then threw his now empty can into the dirt of the cave. "Really think about it. I'm trying my fuckest on my end."

"Fine," Wolverine growled. He pressed his eyes shut, actively trying to move back through his brain again, focusing on anything about this man in front of him. Fractured, broken sensations. Puzzle pieces that overlapped and snapped at their pegs. Someone had fucked with his brain before. Multiple times. Had stuck their grubby little fingers in it and scrambled everything around. He could see the traces of it as he forced himself to remember. 

He opened his eyes with a gasp. 

"Think of something?" Deadpool asked.

"I don't know," Wolverine replied. "Pieces of stuff that I don't know how to put together, yet." 

Deadpool nodded, pretending to be satisfied. 

It was a lie. He had found something at the center, two overwhelming, existential facts. The first was that at some point he had done something horrific, but some baser part of him was keeping him from the details. Protecting him. The second thing, in comparison, flooded his brain, coming in through all the doors and windows once he pushed just a little. 

He was madly in love with this mad in red. He was in love with Deadpool. 

"Hey…hey, Wolvie. You're having a nightmare. Oh…ow. Fuck." 

The words fell on top of each other in his ear as Wolverine transitioned hard from asleep to awake, sitting up with a gasp and a pant. The nightmare had been vivid. Horrid. Blood and violence and brain matter as bullets and bombs fell around him.

But now it was gone, scattering into blackness like dust particles. He looked up where he heard Deadpool's voice come from. 

The man was missing an arm, blood dripping from the shoulder onto the separated limb lying on the ground next to him. He looked down stiffly at his claws. Covered in blood. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck." Wolverine darted his eyes over the scene, trying to tie it all together. He resheathed his claws and jumped to his feet.  "Okay, lay down, elevate your feet. Need to apply pressure to stop bleeding, then I'll see what I can do about the arm." He dived into the supplies to rummage for the first aid trunk.

"Wolvie, calm down." But Deadpool's voice was lost in the din of Wolverine's hyperfocus. 

"We can try to ice the arm, but unless we can magic up a hospital, it's not gonna matter  . Where the fuck are the sterile gauze?"

"Wolverine." 

"But it's so close to your heart, so we need to reduce the chance of infection, at least."

"LOGAN."

Wolverine stopped, turning his body sharp to Deadpool.

"I'm fine," Deadpool insisted. He turned. He was holding his severed arm to the cut. Where muscle met muscle and skin met skin, the pieces were starting to grow together. 

"What the fuck," Wolverine muttered. 

"Yeah, when I woke up I was the top half of a couple of fingers. By the time I was actually up and around, they had grown back. Then when I tried to wake you the first time, you shish kabob'd me through the thigh." He stretched out the leg of his suit to reveal three punctures. "When you retracted them again, there were about two minutes where I thought I might bleed out from my femoral artery, but then I didn't. I'm good as new." Deadpool released his grip on his arm to reveal it had already reattached loosely.

"Give that a little more time, I think," Deadpool said. "So I'm a freak. Sorry you had to find out this way. Was hoping it wouldn't come up." 

Wolverine stared at Deadpool. 

"I have claws in my hands. So…" He shrugged. "Also." He clicked out the edge of a blade and ran it across his palm. Deadpool winced, at first, but leaned over to watch the wound close on itself. "Looks like I can also do…whatever this is."

"Do we chop an arm off and see if yours is as good as mine?" He waggled his eyebrows. 

"Don't be a dumbass." But he found himself grinning darkly. "Though I'm getting the impression that's a pretty hard ask of you." Wolverine leaned back against one of the crates.

There wasn't a lot of space in this part of the cave, so they had had to lay their bug-eaten bedrolls particularly close. Now the space was also sticky with blood. Not a great situation. 

"Wait, you called me a name, just now."

"Did I?" The lines formed hard and deep in Deadpool's brow. 

"Yeah it was…shit. I don't remember. I was focusing on your arm and it didn't stick."

"Oh, so we didn't just lose our memory, we're having a hard time making new ones. Coooooool." Deadpool flopped down back on his bedroll somehow safe from the blood puddle. 

"That's not it," Wolverine insisted, laying back down, as well. "I just wasn't paying attention." Deadpool gave a non-committal hum next to him. 

Wolverine stared at the ceiling of the cave. It hadn't just been panic. In that moment, he was existentially terrified that Deadpool would die. Not just the everyday fear of death in the abstract.That was something he could imagine with stunning clarity and it brought only a vague sense of regret. 

It was all about Deadpool. The thought of Deadpool dying had sent him into a blind hysteria that prevented him from acting effectively. 

Was that the way he loved this man? 

He pressed his psalm to his eyes. He didn't like this feeling. 

#####

"Do you think we're friends?" 

"I think you annoy the shit out of me, bub."

"We could be both," Deadpool said. 

They had set out early the next morning, heading down the highway with refilled water bottles and some dried provisions. Wolverine was acting…weird. Well, maybe not. Not like he remembered how the man behaved as a longer pattern. Yesterday they had been friendly. Buddy-buddy. Still shaking off the aftereffects of whatever drug had turned their brains to mashed potatoes.

They were both a little more alert, though, after a good-....well…a night ' s rest, at least. And Logan had woken up entirely on the wrong side of the cave, turning him into, frankly, a cranky little shit. 

He was short, snappy, mouth caught in a deep U of a frown. He let Deadpool amble and meander through whatever thought turned into words, but he didn't engage. And Wolverine wouldn't look at him. That was the thing that was really, genuinely starting to piss him off. He kept darting his eyes away every time they made eye-contact for too long. Just to avoid it, Deadpool had gone so far as to pull his mask back on under the pretense of sun protection. 

Deadpool stretched his arm at the shoulder, and Wolverine flinched away in annoyance, fists tightening like he wanted to flick his claws out.

Maybe that's it. He feels bad about the arm. 

Joint still feels weird. Wonder how long before it's back to normal.

Not super ready to deal with the whole freak of nature thing, but at least we're both freaks. 

"What if we're enemies?" Deadpool suggested next, meandering through the possibilities. 

"We could be both," Wolverine taunted. Deadpool gasped in delight. 

"Frenemies? Enemies to friends? ENEMIES TO LOVERS." 

"Shut the fuck up." Wolverine stopped walking. 

"Dude." Deadpool turned and backtracked a few steps, dropping his bag in the dirt. "You have been such an asshole, today. What is your problem?"

"It's you. You don't ever stop talking. Do you have no inside thoughts?"

"Well, maybe if you engaged in conversation with me-"

"All you want to talk about is our missing memories," Wolverine growled. 

"Gee, I wonder fucking why?" Deadpool found his hips with the ball of his fists, pressing into them in agitation. 

"But it's all just speculation. That's the shit that you can't seem to grasp. That all you're doing is asking questions that we don't have the answers to. 

"And you keep insisting we should keep trying to dig into our own fucking heads to find something, but there's nothing there, okay? It's just blank space and darkness. 

"The fact that you think that we can just will our memories back…our lives back…moves beyond optimism into blind stupidity. And what little I know of you, you're not dumb. So you're clearly just trying to shift focus to me, so you don't have to speculate on what series of mistakes left you wandering in the desert with no name.

"Because I'm comfortable with the possibility that I fuckin' derserve whatever kind of goddamn purgatory this is, but I will be fucked if I let you turn it into hell because you can't stand to be around yourself."

Wow. 

okay

…

But also deja vu?

Deadpool puffed out a little breath. 

"Okay. You're clearly having a stress response." He placed a hand on the outside edge of Wolverine's arm. Wolverine smacked it off immediately and pressed a finger into Deadpool's face. 

"Don't fucking touch me." 

SNAP. 

Oh, you slice my arm off but I don't get to touch you?

I could have left you in that fucking shack to die from heatstroke. But no, I dragged your ass into that truck. I took care of you. I kept you safe. 

All because I love you and now you're gonna-

Wait…wait what was that?

But then it was gone again. 

"Oh don't fucking touch you?" Deadpool said. "Like this?"

Poke. Two fingers, right in the crease of Wolverine's shoulder. 

Wolverine's claws slid out slowly, peeking out from his knuckles.

"I said don't." 

Poke. 

"I will stab you through the heart and eat it." The claws shifted in their sheath. 

P-o-k-e.

When Wolverine's fist made contact with Deadpool's jaw a single thought fired through his neurons:

Oh, we've done this before.

#####

Deadpool had been right that the katanas weren't for show. Neither was anything else in that bag of weaponry. Wolverine got in precisely two haymakers before there was a hunting knife just above his kidney. The impact stalled him long enough for a sword to slide up under his ribs and out the top of his shoulder.

"You want to fucking fight me?" Deadpool's lips were next to his ear, hand hanging hard on the hilt of the sword. "Then you fucking fight me. Don't pull your goddamn punches."

"Can do, Pool cue." His claws came out the other side of Wade's back with a sickening crack and squish and spurt of blood. A heat rose in his chest, boiling up from his belly to create steam in his throat. It pooled like embers in his pelvis, and holy shit…now he wanted to fuck almost as much as he wanted to fight. 

But only almost…

His other hand moved into a frenzy, stabbing Wade over and over again in the side until he was panting with effort. Deadpool launched a foot into Wolverine's shin, breaking it out from underneath him, collapsing them both onto the ground in a pile. 

They rolled over the hillocks and shrubs like two rutting animals, putting blades and hands into whatever piece of flesh they could access. Knives kept emerging from Deadpool's suit to lodge into Wolverine's muscle mass. 

Deadpool's mask caught on a rock and pulled away, revealing his face. At the same time, Wolverine thrust his claws upward through Deadpool's throat, the sensation of lungs and ribs breaking apart under the sharp edge of the blade. Blood gushed from Deadpool's mouth, dripping over his lips and chin. He panted and grinned up at Wolverine. 

But that's what stopped him. 

The sight of blood smeared across this man's mouth, of the way his body bucked and chest heaved as he tried to breathe around the blades. Wolverine pulled them out as slowly and smoothly as possible. 

"You done, peanut?" Deadpool wiped the blood away on the back of his hand. Wolverine stayed hovering above him, holding his weight in his palms on either side of Deadpool's head. 

"I'm sorry." Logan sat in the dirt in a loose arrangement of limbs. He started the process of pulling knives out of his body and wiping them down. They had moved away from the immediate view of the road, slightly separated by a break in the terrain. Deadpool stayed laying on the ground on his back, measuring his breathing with a whistle. 

"It's fine," Deadpool wheezed. "I'll survive. Healing as we speak." He was right. The sound of his breathing was already changing for the better. 

"I feel like I'm barely holding on to being a person. Like one wrong move and I'm just gonna…" He lost the words halfway through. 

"Turn into an animal?" Deadpool said. 

"Yeah," Wolverine sighed. "Probably where I got my goddamn name. Maybe I've been genetically crossed with one."

"Not in the final canon," Deadpool muttered.

"What?"

"I don't…I don't know. I don't know what that was." He sat up awkwardly, limbs akimbo. He reached out to touch Wolverine's arm then flicked his wrist back, waiting for permission. Wolverine tilted his head just a little to grant it. Deadpool rubbed his shoulder. "We're going through something fucking traumatic as shit, right now. I can't tell you why I'm handling it better. Maybe I was already the right kind of crazy, so this is less of a paradigm shift. And if you want me to stop asking you about recalling memories, then I will. I didn't know it was bothering you that much."

Wolverine grumbled in the back of his throat. 

"I lied to you a little. I do remember some things. They're vague, but I'm sure of them. They don't involve you." And the little lie continued. "But they scare me. I almost don't want to remember."

And that was the itching at his knuckles. Fear. 

Fear of being in love with a stranger. Of having no context for intertwined feelings of longing and excitement and safety and desire. Fear that whoever he was beyond the blackness was someone he wouldn't like when he finally got to meet him. 

Deadpool sighed, then shot up to his feet.

"Well, now that we have that out of our system, let's keep going."

#####

"What are you doing?" Wolverine trailed behind him as they moved down the highway again. His body slumped like the runt of the litter, emotions all fresh and exposed on the surface. 

"There's a car coming. I'm waving it down."

"Not sure that's smart. We don't know what happened to us. Someone might be out here looking for us to finish the job."

"I'm not super worried about someone who drives a Toyota Tacoma." 

The pickup truck appeared over the ridge, and slowed as it approached. The window slid down as it rolled to a stop to reveal an affable enough looking middle-aged dude. The instant he got a look at them, however, his face flashed with panic and he spun out as he floored it. 

Oh that doesn't bode well. 

The car had, at least, been an indicator of a nearby town. A small piece of shit out of the way place with a bar, a gas station, and three churches per capita. 

"Oh, my fuckin' life for a drink," Wolverine decided, dragging them toward the bar immediately. 

"It's, like, barely past noon," Deadpool noted. 

"That a problem?"

"Nah, just wondering if they can make a bellini."

Wolverine opened the door and gestured Deadpool inside first.

Like a fucking gentleman!

The door was barely closed behind them before they heard the shotgun cock. 

"I told you not to come back here. You need to get the fuck out." 

Behind the bar, an older man had a gun trained on them steady and sure. 

Jesus fuck. Okay.

Deadpool put up his hands immediately. Wolverine went straight into a power stance, claws out, knees bent, weight distributed perfectly for pouncing. 

"Put them away, kitten whiskers," Deadpool admonished. "Not about to kill someone who can tell us how we got here." 

Wolverine growled but pulled the blades back in. The bartender kept the gun raised, but it wavered a little. Deadpool moved forward slowly, keeping his hands up. He touched the edge of the shotgun. 

"You can't kill me in any way that matters. You're just gonna piss me off." He lowered his hands. "Now, my friend and I find ourselves in a predicament. A little bit of short term memory loss. When did we come through here?" 

The bartender considered him for a long moment before letting the gun drop, finger still resting against the trigger with terrible terrible discipline.

"Few days ago. You came in. High as fucking kites, the both of you. Arguing about fuck knows what. I said I don't sell to people who are already under the influence. Then you pulled a fucking gun on me." 

"Oh, god, I barely know who I am, and that sounds like something I would do," Deadpool murmured. 

"So I gave you a bottle of the cheap shit. Then you tipped over a few tables. Didn't actually damage anything, but it was annoying. Then that guy left cash behind for the booze at least." The bartender gestured to Wolverine. "You were then, apparently, a menace all over town before stealing Pastor Morris's truck."

"An old beat up blue thing?" Wolverine asked and the bartender confirmed. 

Oh we stole from a preacher. That's…that can't be good.

"Alright. Well. This time we're sober. Not gonna wreck the joint. So-"

"Fuck, you talk too fucking much." Wolverine moved forward and leaned on the bar. "I need a beer. Just. One. Then we fuck off and you never see us again." 

Without moving the gun, the bartender reached underneath and dropped a bottle on the counter. Wolverine popped the cap off with his bare hands, took a swig, saluted to the bartender, then moved away, straight for the door.

"Let's go, Pool cue," he said.

Deadpool turned on a sharp heel. 

That wasn't a twist-off cap. 

The reaction of the bartender and the guy in the car was mirrored in the few people they met moving down the street. They had really fucked it up here, hadn't they? 

"Motel," Wolverine grumbled. 

"What?" Deadpool blinked back into the moment. His thoughts had been drifty and long, trying to tug new memories free that wouldn't budge from their impaction in the deep parts of his brain. 

"I bet we stayed here in town," Wolverine elaborated. "So we find a motel. See if we were there." 

"Oh shit. You're a genius." Deadpool looked around quickly, but nothing appeared immediately. "Need a map." 

"Yeah, I got this."

A teenage boy had been dumb enough to not cross the street in time. Wolverine snatched him by the collar lightly. 

"Motel. Where is it?" 

"Down main, left on Sycamore, bro. Fuck. Look different in the day or something?"

"What do you mean?" Deadpool leaned in a little, studying the kid's features. 

Little punk's not scared. That's fun. 

"Wolvie, drop the kid." 

Wolverine obliged, letting the boy go. 

"Did we hurt anyone?" Deadpool asked. 

"Nah, you guys were cool as fuck. You let me shoot your gun." 

Sounds like the right level of irresponsible, but I really let someone touch my guns? 

damn

We must have really been fucked up. 

Wait…I love my guns. That's some new information I'm remembering.

hold on to that one

"Kay, kid, you can fuck off, now." Wolverine smacked him on the shoulder, and the kid tripped before heading back down the sidewalk. 

Without conferring, they kept moving down the road. 

"So I'm starting to think we're not bad guys, at least," Deadpool said half to himself, half to Wolverine. 

"Did you think we were?"

"A little, yeah. Like…there are a lot of guns in this bag. I don't feel like good guys carry this many guns."

"But I'm famous, right? So you should know whether I was a good guy or bad guy? Right?" 

"Yeah, see, you say that, but I'm realizing that's not super clear in my memory. Like I'm getting some rumblings in my noodle that…uh…that we've killed a lot of people between us."

"I'm sure they were bad guys." 

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm." 

But then they'd turned and found the motel, so the conversation shifted quickly. They burst into the front office, and the poor woman behind the desk immediately ducked below it. 

"I'll take care of it this time," Wolverine grumbled. He didn't even make it to the desk before she had returned with a pair of duffel bags and car keys. 

"Please. Your SUV is still parked out back. Just take your stuff and go." 

Well…that was certainly easier. 

#####

"I'm Logan Howlett and it looks like you're some asshole named Wade Wilson." Logan found the wallets, first, tucked into the outside pockets of their respective duffel bags. "Your wallet is cartoon horses and velcro."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No, just sort of makes sense with what I know about you, so far." 

They found the SUV in the parking lot behind the motel as promised. It started with no issue, and they pulled it away from the township into the desert a little. Close enough to walk back if they needed but far enough away no one could accuse them of loitering or menacing. Logan drove the truck, this time, and being behind the wheel felt familiar. At first, he was surprised it had gas considering things so far. When he dug around in the settings on the heads-up display, though, he figured it out it was electric. That still didn't explain everything until he found the fucking solar panels baked into the top of the of car. 

As they were getting the second and third row seats down, they found hollows in the floor of the trunk full of supplies. More MREs and freeze-dried food packages. Water in flexible bags. Mini solar chargers for things like phones and tablets. A battery operated fan that really pulled air through the place. 

Whoever they were, they had access to some fucking science fiction bullshit.

"Find any cell phones?" Wade asked, pawing through his wallet. 

"Not yet. Did we lose them? Can't imagine leaving our wallets and taking our phones, though." 

"Hmm…oh…" Wade let out a little surprised noise. 

"What did you find?" Logan reached gently toward the wallet, and Wade brought it sharply to his chest. 

"Look through your wallet real fast. See if there are any pictures. That might help."

"Fuck that's not a terrible idea." He had only looked at the interior flap to find the New York State ID.

On the opposite side, was the imprint of a coin and he slipped it out to find a bronze token. One month sober. He glanced at the bottle of beer sitting in one of the back seat cup holders. Whelp…

He tossed it into the dirt outside the truck.

"Maybe it was ironic?" Wade offered with a shrug. 

"I'll worry about the implications, later." 

Under the ID flap were a couple of 2x3s printed on normal copy paper. 

"I have a daughter? Niece? Seems too young to be a sister." A picture of a young woman with a reluctant smile and an angled peace sign. "God I hope so. Every other reason I can think of to have this picture is super creepy."

"If you're a cradle robber would you want to remember?"

"Good point. What do you think?" He flashed the photo at Wade. 

"Oh, she looks just like you. That's totally a daughter." Wade pulled out one of his pictures in response. "I have a dog that matches my complexion." He turned the photo to reveal one of the ugliest dogs in existence that, nonetheless, swelled a gentle emotion of affection in  his chest. 

"You must be so proud," Logan smirked. His only other photo was a little softer, like it had been handled a lot. 

Oh. 

It was him in a flannel plaid button up open over a solid t-shirt. Draped over him, arm held out to take the picture, was Wade. His lips were pressed to Logan's cheek, opposite hand woven into Logan's hair. And they were happy . Radiantly happy. 

"I…uh…I think you were right about us being friends." He flipped the photo around to show Wade who just nodded. 

"Yeah…I think we're more than that." Wade finally showed the photo he'd been hiding. 

Oh…..

"That's…I'm pretty certain that's my dick…" Logan said. 

"And that is my mouth around it." Wade pointed to the area of the photo in question, then flipped it back around. "Not sure how I got this angle. I think I used a tripod." He tucked it back into his wallet. "Then I also have these."

The next photos were a series of candids of Logan including but not limited to: 

sleeping facedown, naked, ass on display

pumped and sweaty fresh off a workout, using the hem of his tank top to wipe sweat off his forehead

shirtless, in profile, feet kicked up on the back railing of a porch and smoking a cigar

turned to camera at a weird angle, claws out, licking one of them, tongue running down the blade

"I think you were chopping watermelon in this last one," Wade chirped. 

"If that's what you printed, what does your phone camera reel look like?"

"Maybe that's why we can't find them. They exploded from the amount of sexy." He tucked all the pictures back in. "There's one more in the change section. I think I kept them separate out of respect."

The next picture unfolded messily. In the center, Logan and Wade sat at a table, surrounded by a mix of people (including his maybe daughter), everyone caught in the middle of a laugh. Through the glass door, the same porch from the earlier photo. 

Their friends. Their home . Together. 

He wasn't afraid, at least, anymore. But now it hurt. 

#####

They found cash in Logan's wallet, and he came back from the gas station at the edge of town with chips and jerky and soda in an attempt to stretch their food stash a little. They sat across from each other in the SUV, legs bent to fit in the space. 

He's so hot. 

And he's my…something. 

He's mine. 

That dick and ass and pecs and face belong to me. 

fuck

What did I do to trick this guy into being with me? 

Now that he knew that they were…something…the feeling of affection that had been coiling like a spring in his joints, had loosened to run along his bones. It wasn't a sick, one-sided obsession. He was supposed to feel this way. He had earned the right to feel this way. 

"What do you need, Wade?" 

Wade blinked. He hadn't realized he was staring at a point right in the middle of Wolverine's…Logan's chest.

"My duffel had khaki cargos and a t-shirt. I was thinking about changing because this bitch is hot." He ran a finger under the collar of his suit. 

"Go for it. I'm not gonna stop you." Logan bit hard into his jerky. 

"Right, just…I wasn't sure…where….because of the window positioning and…stuff…"

Like I'm going to sit here and tell this grown-ass man to close his eyes for modesty. That feels stupid.

Logan, for his part, thought about the issue for about a second before responding. Probably from confusion. 

"We have the same parts. And if your pictures are anything to go by, we've been inside each other. So, whatever. Can't offend me."

"Well…okay." Wade moved his hands over his body, then stopped, fingers at his collar. 

fuck

"I don't know how to take this fucker off."

"Huh," Logan replied, his head tilting. He finished his current bit of jerky, then flicked his fingers. "Scoot over here, and let me look at the back." 

Wade rolled up on his knees, rotated, and dropped down again. Logan's fingers barely brushed his back with his fingertips through the fabric of his suit.

oh

oh oh oh oh oh 

fuck

fuck fuck fuck

The electric shock of recognition danced down his spine and over his skin. His body knew even the gentlest pressure of Logan's touch. When his fingers walked up Wade's back, it took everything in him to not squirm and writhe in hypersensitive delight.

"Zipper," Logan murmured and drew it down smoothly. The suit parted as Wade brought his arms forward, and sighed as the breeze hit his back.  

"How the fuck do we get in and out of these normally?"

"Probably a trick we don't remember. Do you need help with the rest of it? Looks like it's tight around the shoulders."

"Not around the one you cut off," Wade said over his shoulder. "Arm reattached, but the fabric didn't." He slid off the disconnected suit arm. He'd only been keeping it for sun protection. 

"I apologized for that already." Logan's voice had drifted into inattention, though. His eyes shifted from Wade's exposed arm to his back. "It goes all the way down."

Ah, shit fuck. Why does he have to notice that now?

"Yep. All the way. Wink wink." 

"Do you remember why, yet?" Logan asked. He brought his hand back to Wade's spine and traced it with his index finger. A proper shudder ran down his back, and he choked on his words. 

"Nope."

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh god yes. All the time."

"I'm…I'm sorry. There's probably aloe or something-"

"No, I think it's…it's one of those deep down things. It's a little better with skin to skin contact, but that might be psychosomatic."

"Does that kind of shit still work if you don't have all your memories?"

"Fuck if I know. I'm not a neuroscientist…I think." Wade shifted back to lean against the wall of the SUV and next to Logan. He pulled Logan's hand into his. That felt right. 

Fuck yeah handholding.

It wasn't enough, though. He wanted to crawl up under his skin. To wear it on top of his own.

What the fuck is that? I think I might actually be a psychopath.  

"If you come up with something I can do to help," Logan offered lamely. 

"Yeah…"

i want him i want him i want him

The voice had been rattling in the back of his head since he woke up next to him in the shack. He had ignored it. Shoving it into a box with other emotions that were clearly unwelcome. But now he knew the truth, and it was screaming at him. They were virtual strangers, though, a thin barrier between them despite physical evidence of their intimacy.

Still…

He reached his face across the space and brushed his lips to Logan's cheek. 

His body stalled, froze in place. Wade counted his breaths, face still inches away from Logan's.

one

two

three

It was one motion. Logan's face turning then pressing his mouth to Wade's. 

sparks fire sun fire sparks fire fire fireworks 

Wade lost some beats of time. 

He was on his back, Logan's excessively heavy body on top of his. He pushed deeper into Logan's mouth with his tongue, remapping the interior of it. Wade's hands dug into Logan's hair, pulling it without thinking.

"Pull harder," Logan growled into Wade's mouth. Wade curled his fingers tighter and Logan groaned. "Yeah. That reminds me of something." 

Wait…

"Stab me. Stab me and kiss me at the same time." 

Logan didn't question it as he brought his lips back down on Wade's. A claw half-emerged with a click then sunk gently into the soft part of his thigh. 

"Fuck that's good. Holy shit." Wade gurgled in the back of his throat as the claws pulled out. 

And the evidence for freaky shit piles up.

Wade's hands moved from Logan's hair to go searching down his back for a zipper. He found part of it at the collar and traced it around the side to its origin. What stupid things these suits were. Still, he managed to unzip it, exposing Logan's back and upper arms. He creased his fingers into the muscles, feeling them out. Relearning their shape. 

Logan shifted up into a kneeling position. He slid the arms of his suit down until it hung around his waist. Wade sat up on his elbows, doing the same. 

Another moment where their bodies paused, thinking. 

Wade moved first this time, lifting his fingertips to press against Logan's sternum. His chest hair was wiry and thick, something else he could sink his hands into. He trailed down to his stomach, tracing the line of thicker hair all the way down to the top of the folded suit. 

BITE

om nom nom

He kissed Logan's stomach with a tiny nip, and Logan responded by curving his hands around Wade's neck. 

"There's a scar of a bite mark," Logan said quietly. He traced a shape on the top of Wade's shoulder. 

"Wha-?" Wade turned his head but couldn't see from this angle. Logan bent forward, and wrapped his teeth gently around Wade's shoulder, just enough to leave an impression. 

"It's my teeth," he decided as he leaned back. 

"I can heal," Wade said. "How often did you bite me that it actually left a mark?"

Logan grinned darkly. 

"We must have figured it out." Then his head flicked, the rest of his body tensing. Another vehicle."

Then Wade heard it, too, roaring over the top of one of the nearby hills. Logan rolled off him to search through the windows. He didn't have to look far, the jeep rolling up right next to the SUV over another small hill. 

Cloaking. 

Visual camo but not auditory.

Could they not muffle the engine? Did they want us to hear them coming, but not see them? Real half-assed approach to stealth there, buckaroos.

Look at me, knowing what I'm talking about. 

People climbed out of the jeep. They were wearing equally ridiculous outfits, but that didn't guarantee they were friendly. Logan thought the same thing, and his claws snapped out in anticipation. Gun wasn't a good idea in this small space, so Wade snatched one of the smaller knives from the weapons bag. 

A girl appeared in the open hatch of the SUV. Head shaved close, dark eyeliner and lips, round face, yellow and black suit. 

"Cool, so we bust our asses trying to find you, and you fuckers are out here in the desert, getting freaky as usual. You two are gross." Her eyes flicked between them in annoyance as the rest of the small group arrived. The annoyance turned to concern as everybody stared at everyone.

It was a thin man with a visor over his eyes that finally said something. 

"They did it. They found the memory wipe guy."

[atlasscrumpit]

Miguel

Reader insert

♥️ 1111 words

♥️ You finally realise why you've been having nightmares about alternate realities of your husband

(I think there's a scientist Miguel out there somewhere?)

You opened the door to your husbands lab and saw him working away, mumbling to himself like usual.

"Care to take a break? Because I know if it weren't for me you'd starve." You say holding up a bag of take out as your husband chuckles and smiles.

"I'm so glad to see you." He whispered in relief before coming up to you and hugging you tightly.

You chuckled a little and hugged him back.

"I know how hard you work, and now that I work form home I have plenty of time to visit you and make sure you don't accidentally starve yourself again." You say with a small chuckle, placing the food on his desk.

He grabbed a spare chair for you before sitting next to you.

"Sorry I left so early this morning, love. Did you get the coffee I made for you and the note?" He asked as he started unpacking the food.

You chuckled softly at his sweetness.

"Yes, I did it was very sweet." You replied, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Any nightmares?" He asked, stuffing his face full of fries making you chuckle softly.

"Not really a nightmare, just a weird dream with your doppelganger again. He didn't speak this time he just kind of stood there, breathing heavy and staring at me. He had that weird red and blue suit on again." You muttered as Miguel nodded.

"Maybe I'm a superhero in another reality." He replied making you chuckle again.

"I could definitely see that, you're already a hero. You've cured a lot of diseases." You replied, beginning to eat as well.

"But can I fly?" He asked making you laugh and shake your head.

--

You were home at your apartment, Miguel finally home from work as you both laid in bed.

Miguel sat up reading a book as you laid on your back trying to sleep.

Miguel was lost in his book when he looked down to see you twitching and making small sounds.

"You can't be here." You whispered as you whined and shook your head.

"No, please." You whispered as Miguel placed his book down and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Sweetheart, it's okay." He whispered as you gasped sat up straight in bed.

You panted and stared straight at the wall in front of you.

"Baby?" Miguel whispered, placing his hand on your thigh.

You jumped up and backed away.

"No... No, you're not him. You're not him!" You screamed as Miguel stood up and slowly approached you.

"Y/N, love. It was a dream, you were fast asleep." Miguel whispered as he took both of your hands.

"Say it with me, love." He whispered as you looked at him.

"It's just us, and us alone." You said together in unison as you took a deep breath.

After you'd had so many nightmares about alternate reality Miguel's, your Miguel had come up with a saying you could say to make sure you knew it was him.

You sighed and hugged him tightly.

--

When you woke up in the morning Miguel was gone again, to be fair you woke up at 10am.

You woke up and saw a coffee left that was cold but you could use a microwave.

You opened the fridge to see a muffin for breakfast with a little post it note with a heart on it.

You chuckled softly and sat down at the table.

You heard the door open and jumped up in shock when you saw Miguel.

"Miguel? What are you doing home?" You muttered, backing away slowly.

He smiled at you.

"There was an issue with gas and we had to evacuate. I've got time to spend with you now." He said as you looked at him and continued to back away.

"What's wrong?" He asked as you looked at him.

"Say it with me..." You whispered as your hands shook.

"What? Are you okay?" He asked, making your eyes widen as you grabbed a knife and pointed it at him.

"I knew you'd come one day! Did you hurt him!" You screamed as he looked at you in shock.

"Darling, what are you talking about? Where's Gabriella?" He asked with a smile.

"You're in the wrong universe! Did you hurt my Miguel?" You asked as his eyes widened.

"Shit..." He cursed as you came closer.

"Answer the goddamn question!" You shouted as he looked at you in shock.

"No... I didn't hurt him. I was trying to get to a universe where he was already dead and we had a daughter... I must've got the wrong one. Why do you know I'm from a different universe?" He asked as you sighed, you lowered the knife but you weren't letting go of it.

"For the past year I've had nightmares about all different kinds of you and me... And in a lot of them you're the villain." You muttered as he looked at you in confusion.

"I'm not the villain." He growled back at you.

"You're trying to take the place of a dead man and not letting a family grieve. A man died and will be buried in an unmarked grave, and you will destroy the universe." You said as he stopped and looked around with confusion.

"No... No it's not like that! I won't destroy it. They need me!" He shouted as you sighed and put the knife down.

"I saw you once... You lost me and your child in your reality. I also saw what happened, what will happen if you go to that universe." You explained, he stood there staring at the ground.

"Miguel... We lose things, we lose people, it's apart of life. You can't destroy someone else's life because yours was destroyed." You whispered as you moved forward and took his hands.

"I know you miss them, Miguel. I'm sorry you lost them." You whispered as he looked into your eyes with tears.

"I think I dreamt about you because I needed to stop what was going to happen. You know the pain of losing your wife and child, if you take over a life of someone else you're going to lose them all over again. Go back to your reality... Grieve them like they deserve and don't just replace them." You whispered as Miguel began to cry.

You hugged him as he cried.

"You're right." He whispered through his tears.

You heard the door open again and looked up to see your husband.

He stopped and looked at you in shock.

"I can promise there's a very simple explanation for this, love."

[mqverick]

Walking On Air || chapter 9

Take me to bed or lose me forever, was what Carole said to Goose every time they were together, having fun. Maverick never really understood what she meant by it until he started having feelings for you. It was exactly how he felt about you; he needed to just fuck everything and everyone, every obstacle in the way, and take you with him before he could lose you to someone else — which ironically enough, had already happened.

Or so he thought, until the other night.

He had been so fixated on the fact that you were taken so deeply inside of him, that he believed he could never fully have you, that part of your mind would always stay true to Iceman, even if the miracle happened and you broke up with him.

Hearing the drunken words come out of your mouth, so rushed and so painfully angsty, got him hoping you might be getting lost in the same path he’d been since the day you spoke to him for the first time. Drunken words were — in fact — sober thoughts, after all. Not to mention that it was the — what, third? — time he almost got to kiss you. Maverick was not the one to pine after someone, he was used to the exact opposite effect, never having to chase anyone.

He liked having to chase after you, though. He liked to dream up flawless scenarios of you, desperately wanting them to come to life. He liked how much of a dopamine rush he got from those breathless conversations and moments with you. It was hard to resist the urge to keep his feelings buried, opting to play them off as a charismatic, casual flirt — because that was what he’d been used to. That was all he knew.

You liked the way he yearned for you as well. He just made you feel so irresistibly wanted and loved, even if his cockiness never really helped his pure feelings come to light. You were very aware of them though, you were in the same page as him, never mind the fact that for you, it happened as an accident. Sure, a little flirting never hurt anyone — but oh, he was holding your hand (and for some reason you found yourself struggling to breathe steadily.)

In the morning, you woke up wanting to beat yourself to death. You’d been mindless; consuming all that alcohol, getting yourself hammered and ignoring the consequences.

Goose’s words were bloody when he said that Maverick technically had every right to hit on others. Goose’s words teared your heartstrings in pieces and made you conscious of how you’d been accusing everyone else to be a jerk, when in reality, you’d been the only twat in the story.

Maverick probably hated you.

Tom would probably hate you, too.

You tried. Gave it your all — good point to chuckle — to make your relationship with him work, but every time you closed your eyes, your mind betrayed you, unable of getting a certain someone out of the picture. The worst thing was the fact that you didn’t even really care whether Tom would want to cut you off once he found out about the situation you’d been dealing with.

You were frightened of the scenario where Pete stopped caring about you, mostly because it was impossible to imagine. Therefore, you did your best to turn yourself invisible by making up a rushed excuse of being too hungover to properly function at Top Gun, opting to stay home.

Tom respected your decision, wishing you to get well soon as he gave you a sweet kiss goodbye.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you fell back on the couch with a plop. You felt as if hours had passed when a thud on the door startled you. You fumbled to get up, standing unblinking as you opened the door to see Maverick holding a paper bag with both of his hands as he fiddled the heel of his shoe around the floor while chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Heard Ice say you felt poorly and got you something,” he spoke lowly, reaching his hand out for you to take the item he held. Your lips parted in silent surprise as you hesitantly invited him in. “Look, I know you don’t want to see me, but you might as well say a word, because it’s getting sort of weird.”

“Maverick, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d bring you a little something to eat.”

You honestly despised the man. How did he still care about you after you you’d been unable to seal your mouth shut the night before, yammering about mistreating you (mind the irony), you didn’t know. Still, that did not constitute an obstacle for you to lunge forward and fling yourself into his arms, your head hitting against his chest as you encircled his waist tightly. You moved your head a little, stopping dead in your tracks as your ear picked up the sound of his heartbeat violently increasing.

He still had to reach for you, taken aback by your sudden affection and not being sure how to react. Maverick’s brain short-circuited, until everything finally clicked and he was holding you so close to his body, he thought he was squishing the life out of you — but he never heard you complain.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” you whispered, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You wanted to say more, apologize for being so ridiculously indecisive and not giving him the chance to move on, instead having him wait until you could grow a pair and end things with Tom, but the words died down in your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his palm now cupping the back of your head. He knew you could hear his heartbeat and he also knew it was giving him away.

When you pulled away, your knees buckled and you almost melted into a puddle. His hands had somehow traveled down to your smaller ones, holding them delicately.

Take me to bed or lose me forever.

“It’s a grilled cheese, in case you were wondering, by the way,” Maverick blurted, looking over to the paper bag with the food you’d left on a counter.

“I love it.” I love you.

“I need to get going.”

“No,” you argued, grabbing his hand in yours the moment he reached for the door handle. “Stay here with me. I’m sure Viper’s more than happy that you’re not there to wreck the planes. Goose might be missing you, but he can cry about it to Carole when the day is over.”

Maverick let an amused chuckle escape from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around your wrists, gently rubbing on the skin with his thumbs.

“You want me to stay with you?” he asked in disbelief. It was adorable how flustered he was.

“I’m not repeating anything, Mitchell.”

With a little smirk and a smudge look on his face, he moved toward you, leaning in closer to your lips, which was a scenario you’d accepted, hadn’t he had a sudden change of heart and went for your forehead instead, pressing a long, warm kiss against it that made you shudder under his touch.

“You want me to stay with you,” he chimed, sounding more as if he was bragging to himself.

You tried to stifle a smile as you placed your ear over his drumming heartbeat, already forgetting you had the whole ‘sick from the booze’ act to keep up, but then again, when had you ever been able to hide what you really felt around Maverick?

“We can’t be here though,” you suddenly mouthed, the image of Tom unlocking the door to you and the man he hated snuggling comfortably up on the couch causing sweat to form on the back of your neck as you pushed Maverick away from you and fixed your fingers through your hair.

“Why not?” You gave him a knowing look that made him sigh. “We can’t hide forever, you know.”

Deciding to ignore his comment, you dragged him outside by the hand, nodding where he’d parked his motorcycle. “Cliff tops,” you silently explained and saw the corners of his lips turn upward as he helped you onto the seat.

It seemed to startle him when you wrapped your arms around his middle, laying your face against the fabric of the leather jacket that covered his back, turning his head ever so slightly to look at you with that charming Maverick smirk of his.

Your heart hammered against your chest as he began driving, hair flying carelessly through the wind, leaning further into him and clutching your intertwined hands firmly against his stomach.

Your brain felt as if it was fogged by the light fragrance he was wearing, head nuzzling on his shoulder now, lips moving dangerously close to his cheek. You let them carefully graze his skin, feeling him shudder — or was it just your mind playing tricks on you?

After having arrived at the tops, Maverick got off his motorcycle, lending you his hand to take as he helped you get off as well, shaky, nervous fingers testing the waters as he gently let them linger around yours, waiting for your hand to pull away. Instead, your knuckles tightened, grasp sinking into his, not daring to look up at him for capturing his reaction.

He sat next to you on the hill, so close that the warmth radiating from his outer thigh gave you goosebumps. You shifted just a little, so that your leg could be touching his, eyes darting down on your lap as you crossed your arms.

“It’s beautiful up here. I like how I can consider it our spot now,” you heard Maverick mutter.

“Our spot?”

His head turned to look at you. “Yeah. Ideally, the first time I would’ve liked to bring you here would be a date, but I can settle for the late sneak-out after your fight with Kazansky.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly met his cherishing gaze. You hadn’t wanted anyone like that in really long time and it felt like something was sucking the soul out of you. “Maverick?”

“Hm?”

“When you’re flying, you might lose power. It’s a fatal risk, but it doesn’t stop you from enlisting in the Navy. Flying at up to 700 mph, the smallest mistake can be deadly, your plane could plunge out of the sky, break apart on impact. The cockpit is too small, so you’ll feel like your losing your breath even though you might not have died just yet — and it’s all terrifying and out of control.”

Maverick stared blankly at you, waiting for you to make a point. “What are you trying to say?”

“This is exactly how I feel whenever you look at me,” you finally mustered the courage to confess, seeing your lip starting to quiver. Unsure of how to properly weave the complexity of your feelings, you opted to let your pinky softly wrap around his.

Maverick stared at you, jaw slightly hung, eyes gleaming. “You feel that way about me?”

His question came out so shaky and gentle that it worsened your situation of trying not to break down right there in front of him. “Of course I do. You’re so ridiculously insufferable, I hate you.”

He cocked his head to the side with the tiniest hint of a smirk. “But you love flying.”

“I love flying,” you confirmed, letting the rest of your fingers wrap around his hand as you brought it over to your lap, holding it firmly enough to believe that what was happening in that moment was not just a figment of your imagination.

“I love flying, too.”

With hope written all over your face, your mouth stretched into a grin, holding back a giggle. God, when had you turned fourteen all over again?

Right when you were about to say something, you felt his lips ghost above your forehead before he was leaning down just a bit and kissing the bridge of your nose as tenderly as he could, making you dizzy and unable to think straight. Kiss me, kiss me before I regret it, before I start thinking again. He stalled against you, foreheads now touching as he realized that you hadn’t moved away from him yet.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“What?”

“It’s what Carole says to Goose. Said. I don’t know if she still tells him that. I never got it, to be honest, but all I know is that I don’t want to lose you, Maverick. Never,” you explained breathily.

“You’re not losing me, not even if you want to,” Maverick chuckled, letting a warm puff hit your already very reddened cheeks. You smiled at him, head now moving forward, so that you could nudge the top of his nose with your own.

“Pete,” you whispered, the words coming out as a ghost tugging at his heart. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, bringing you oh so impossibly close to him that if you squinted hard enough, your lips would be touching. And there it was again; that look he’d been giving you ever since the day you met, lovestruck eyes melting into yours. “Drop looking at me like that, Pete.”

“I can’t,” he spoke, voice weary as if he was on the verge of tears. “You walked in the room the first time Viper came in and the breath was knocked out of my lungs the very same second. So, no, I don’t think I can look at you in a way that’s not giving away how deeply head over heels I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, stunned by his words. “Don’t continue the sentence, Mav. Don’t continue it, because if you do, I’m going to lose every last ounce of self control I have in my body right now and I should warn you, there’s not much remaining.”

Maverick nodded slowly in acceptance before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then deciding to be brave, ducking down just the right direction to kiss the corner of your lips. His palms were still holding onto your cheeks, applying more pressure now as he let his mouth linger, heads connecting. You were about to lose it; all the sanity in your system, all the thoughts of do’s and dont’s. With a slight angle twist, he could be kissing you properly, on the lips, but every cell in your body was sweating to prevent that from happening. It was killing you.

“I love flying so much, Roger. So much that I don’t care if it costs me my life, I’m going to keep pursuing breaking the typical rules and fly on my own. It makes me feel alive,” Maverick confessed.

“You should,” you replied breathlessly. “It’ll get you places, Pete. You can hold your own.”

“Take me to bed,” he whispered, loud enough so that you heard him, a small smirk creeping up against the — now flushed from the kiss — corners of your lips.

“Or lose me forever.”

tags:

@holishol

@honeymvnt

[toasttt11]

daisy

October 12, 2024

For as long as Luke can remember Sebastian has always wanted a dog, specifically a dachshund. Sebastian never got a dog growing because his mother was allergic.

Luke loves watching how much Sebastian lights up seeing dogs and now that they have their own apartment Luke can finally get Sebastian his dog. Even if they are still moving in and it’s mostly just boxes everywhere.

Luke’s was trying during the off season to find a puppy for Sebastian, he had found a woman who’s dog had recently gotten pregnant with another littler and he knew that was perfect because the puppies were born just a few wekes before Sebastian’s birthday.

Jack picked up the puppy for Luke last night and it is staying at Jack’s until Luke brings Sebastian over to give him his puppy.

Luke picked up the tray from the kitchen with one hand knowing Sebastian would he mad if he used his hurt arm, he ordered in Sebastian’s favorite breakfast from a small cafe in New Jersey and his favorite coffee.

Luke quietly walked into their bedroom where Sebastian was still fast asleep having barely moved since Luke got out of bed.

Luke set the tray down on the bed before climbing into bed and leaning down pressing a kiss to Sebastian’s cheek, than his other cheek, his nose, his chin till every spot of Sebastian’s face was covered in kisses and he was squinting his eyes open.

“Happy birthday my sweet boy.” Luke lovingly mumbled looking at him with the fondest smile.

Sebastian hummed and leaned into Luke’s soft touch smiling softly as he got to woke up his favorite way, by Luke.

Luke sat up and grabbed the tray and set it onto his lap as he leaned against the headboard of their bed, Sebastian scooted closer to Luke and rested his head on his chest looking at the food in intrest.

“Come on birthday boy it’s for you.” Luke smirked and gestured to the doors. Sebastian fondly rolled his eyes and started eating his breakfast and obviously sharing with Luke.

Luke grabbed the tray setting it on the floor once they finished and leaned over Sebastian looking at him with a soft smirk, “Now i think i promised you something on your birthday.” Luke whispered as he leaned closer to Sebastian’s face.

“Did you? I must not remember you’ll have to remind me.” Sebastian smirked back as he pulled Luke onto his lap while running a hand through Luke’s curls.

“I will.” Luke hummed before pressing his lips to Sebastian’s.

Once the two were finished celebrating Sebastian’s birthday, again. They got dressed and headed out of the apartment heading to Jack’s as Sebastian wanted to spend time with Jack too.

Sebastian knocked on the door and opened it walking in with Luke as he saw Jack chilling on the couch.

Jack looked up and beamed, “There’s the birthday boy.” Jack got up and pulled Sebastian into a tight hug, It was weird he just remembered meeting a angry thirteen year old that quickly become another brother to him and now he’s a much calmer twenty one year old.

Sebastian smiled fondly hugging Jack back before he heard a small yip and pulled back confused not knowing why there would be a dog bark in the apartment.

Sebastian turned around and saw a very tiny puppy in Luke’s arm and the smile on Luke’s face confirmed all of Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Holy shit.” Sebastian cursed looking shocked, the puppy is a dachshund, the same puppy he has dreamed of having since he was a little kid.

“Happy birthday Sebby.” Luke proudly smiled as he walked closer to Sebastian and the puppy began whining and yipping towards Sebastian, Luke smiled and handed the puppy to Sebastian who immediately started kissing Sebastian’s face.

“Hello.” Sebastian cooed softly letting out a watery laugh as the small golden dachshund looked up at him and nuzzled his little nose to Sebastian’s nose.

Jack smiled softly as he took photos of them and felt himself tearing up at how happy Sebastian looks.

“What’s her name?” Sebastian chocked out looking tearful but so incredibly happy.

“It’s your choice.” Luke simply answered feeling so proud Sebastian is this happy, he watched the two with a smile. Luke and Sebastian’s little family was changing from the two of them to three.

“Daisy. Welcome to the family Daisy Hughes.” Sebastian softly mumbled to their new puppy, Luke smiled softly at the scene but he couldn’t help but think he couldn’t wait for the day he made Sebastian officially a Hughes too.

[kamimarroco]

Basically, a fanfic where Ren loves a MILF

Not very explicit, in my opinion, but yeah, manipulation, kidnapping, mommy kink and horny

🦊💘

It's strange, and even funny. You really didn't plan this.

Lying on the couch, scratching your captor's furry, fluffy ears above you. He purred, like a cat does when its owner pets it. Except this situation is the opposite.

He's so small, and his fluffy tail makes you want to stay a little longer, even if your stomach is growling.

Right, your stomach. You haven't eaten since you left the bar, or since you woke up in this weird house. Even though Ren offered you food, you had the strange intuition that you shouldn't eat anything he offered you. It could be anything, poison, drugs, or something else.

“Are you sure you don't want to eat something?" His voice, sweet, lively, energetic, resonates through your ears, through your mind. He is being kind, generous. A mercy for you to take.

“Do not worry about me" A lie, you just don't want to get involved further. You would rather starve than accept your defeat. 

He snorts, clearly annoyed, his claws tracing lines across your chest. His tail begins to move methodically.

“You should stop being stubborn. You know you can't escape from here"

You must NOT accept this fate. It's wrong, clearly wrong. You have a family to take care of at the end of the day, and he shall not keep you forever.

You're sure they'll start looking for you soon.

He rolls his eyes, adjusting his position to sit on your lap, hands glued to your belly, caressing, massaging.

“They won't miss you. In fact, they'll be glad you're gone" His sweet words enter your ears once again. “They don't deserve you, none of them. They don't see you the same way I do”

Manipulation, distortion of reality. He wants to make you think that they don't want you, that you have no value to them. He wants you to stay here, forever, and ever, and ever.

A person, or something close to it. A pet, someone for him to care for and love. An object, easy to discard if he gets tired of you.

Bullshit, nothing he says makes sense. Your children love you, your husband adores you, you have the job of your dreams, a nice house to live in, parents and–

And…

They won't look for you... right?

Why would they do that, after all? You are disposable, a woman at the mercy of society. You are nothing, nothing at all.

Ren runs his hands under your shirt, sharp claws being (not very) careful not to hurt you. You ended up gaining a few pounds after your last pregnancy.

“Don't worry, I'll take great care of you" His toothy smile tries to comfort you, but fails. You can see the excitement in his eyes. 

“Why me?" You ask, a single tear running down your left cheek. You don't deserve this, you need to go home.

“Your body... is perfect" Ren takes a deep breath at the sight of your exposed belly, his erection trapped in his pants, screaming to be freed. When did he…?

This is a first. You never felt the same after giving birth three times, you never felt desired by any man. Which is good, because you are a married woman, and should be devoted to your only husband.

“Ren... stop” You ask shyly, your hands taking his to make him stop touching you. “I'm not going to do this”

He is taken by surprise, but his expression is replaced by a bizarre smile. He won't stop just because you want him to.

“Honey, I'm just doing you a favor. How long has it been since you got fucked the way you want?”

Dirty words trying to deceive you. He wants you to stop fighting, to stop resisting the repressed desire so much.

Why don't you give up already? Won't he make you feel good?

You loosen your grip on his hands, allowing him to touch your belly again. And he smiles, staring hungrily at the abundant meat there.

These eyes, you never saw them again. Eyes of desire, eyes of hunger, eyes of lust. Does he really have no problem with your extra fat?

If it were another man, he would certainly have discarded you by now. 

You feel dizzy, the heat consuming your entire body, making you feel weak. Weak from hunger, too weak to fight back. 

Your cheeks are burning.

Ren moves one of his hands to your thigh, making circular movements while looking directly at your horny face. He starts to pant, starts to feel like he's going to explode at any moment.

But he can't, he shouldn't. Not with a woman as pure as you. 

You are a mother, after all. And mothers are precious, sensitive, warm and their bodies are the most beautiful thing there is.

It must be some kind of fetish of his. Older woman, experienced mother, calm and sweet because that's how you should be. This is how society sees you and only sees you.

“It's beautiful..." Ren speaks as he begins to slowly take off your shirt, exposing your large, voluminous breasts. Ready to give milk, ready to be sucked.

He gently picks them up with both hands, making gentle movements, testing their softness. 

They are so soft, so soft. The thought crosses your mind, and fills you with joy. 

He licks them, both of them, his teeth being careful not to hurt you. You must be sensitive to being touched like this after so long.

“Precious, just precious" He whispers to you, praising you, applauding you for the natural beauty of your body. Kind, careful, sweet.

Not that your husband isn't like that, but... it's different when it's another man telling you that. It's invigorating, pleasurable, comforting. It makes you think you're still beautiful after all these years.

“What a good mother you are, so calm, so obedient" He purrs, his tail moving from side to side. “Good mothers deserve a break, don't you think?” Ren asks rhetorically, already aware of your answer. “So please, just relax. I'll make you feel really, really good”

[sillyunicorn]

Did someone say vampires @margotdanslebois??

This popped in my head as I was leaving work...

...

“I’m scared,” Wilhelm said.

Underneath him on the bed, Simon stretched his neck, baring the skin there. Tempting.

“Of what?”

Wilhelm closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Simon’s throat, the blood pulsing just under his perfect jaw.

It didn’t help. He could still smell Simon, could still feel Simon, warm skin against cold. He held his breath.

“You know what.”

Simon’s hands tightened on Wilhelm’s waist, nails digging in.

“Say it.”

Wilhelm let out his held breath with a shudder.

“I’m scared… that if I start…” He opened his eyes and met Simon’s gaze. “I won’t be able to stop.”

It was dark, but Wilhelm could see the challenge on Simon’s face in perfect clarity.

“Then don’t.”

Simon lifted his chin. Wilhelm leaned in…

An elbow to his ribs woke him from the dream.

“Sorry,” Simon muttered. He was tugging the duvet up from where it was sliding off the end of the bed. When he got it up to his shoulders, he turned on his side and cozied up to Wilhelm, who was lying on his back.

Wilhelm rubbed his eyes with the hand not pinned under Simon’s pillow. Simon must have seen his expression, because he asked,

“Weird dream?”

If Wilhelm closed his eyes, he could still see dream-Simon stretched out under him, tilting his head against the pillow. He could remember the want.

“Very weird,” he replied.

Simon snaked a frigid hand across Wilhelm’s stomach, and Wilhelm almost jerked away. But Simon was prepared for this reaction, and wrapped his arm around Wilhelm’s middle, holding him in place.

“Good weird or bad weird?” He asked, ignoring Wilhelm’s noise of indignation.

“Good…. I think? You were there.”

“Mm,” Simon said, drawing one knee over Wilhelm’s thigh. “That’s always good.”

“I think I was going to hurt you.”

“Oh. That’s bad.”

Wilhelm tucked his free hand under the covers so he could rub Simon’s arm, which wasn’t as cold as his hand, but still wasn’t yet warm.

“No, but like… you wanted me to. I think I was going to… bite you?”

“Kinky,” Simon said.

“I was like, really into your blood.”

“Ooh. Were you a vampire? Did I want you to bite me?”

Wilhelm pulled his head to the side a little so he could look Simon in the face.

“How did you get to that so fast?”

Simon shrugged one shoulder. “I dunno. I’ve thought about it.”

“About me being a vampire?”

“No, just like, if you were a vampire, would I want you to bite me? And I think definitely yes. Sounds hot.”

Wilhelm tilted his head against Simon’s so he could bury his face in Simon’s curls. He smelled like smoke from the bonfire they went to last night, and under that, his citrus shampoo.

“I didn’t want to bite you though. I was worried I’d Turn you.”

“Also hot,” Simon said promptly.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean, was it not hot?”

Before Wilhelm could answer, Simon pushed up on one elbow, the duvet falling to expose one bare shoulder. It was no wonder Simon was always cold at night; he refused to sleep in a shirt.

“You’re going to tell me, that if you were a vampire, and I was a human, and I had alllll this blood just here for the taking, and I went like this” — he tilted his head, showing off his neck – “ you wouldn’t want a little bitey-bite?”

Wilhelm’s eyes followed the curve of Simon’s perfect jaw — just as perfect in real life as it was in the dream – and over the jut of his Adam’s apple down to the delicate hollow of his throat, and said –

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Simon’s perfect jaw dropped in fake shock. He pulled away from Wilhelm and got up on his knees, bringing the duvet with him like a cape as he straddled Wilhelm’s hips.

“You’re telling me,” he continued, dropping one corner of the duvet so he could trail his fingertips down the side of his throat, over the ridge of his collarbone, “that you wouldn’t want just a tiny little taste?”

Wilhelm sucked in his bottom lip.

“Mm,” he said, noncommittal.

Simon leaned down suddenly, nearly knocking his head into Wilhelm’s chin, and shoved his nose under Wilhelm’s jaw. He licked up the side of Wilhelm’s neck, all the way to his ear. Wilhelm shivered.

“I’d want it,” Simon breathed into his ear. “And I’d Turn you, too. You’d never get rid of me.”

And then he stuck his tongue in Wilhelm’s ear.

Wilhelm yelped and jerked his head away, and Simon sat upright again, laughing his ass off.

“You’re the worst,” Wilhelm groaned, rubbing at his ear.

Simon just grinned as he pulled the duvet over his shoulders again.

“I’d make a great vampire,” he declared.

Wilhelm pinched him in the side, and he yelped.

“You’d lure me in,” Wilhelm agreed. “You’d bewitch me. You’d cheat, though. You’d use your Thrall on me. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Simon scoffed. “Excuse me, I wouldn’t need magic to seduce you.” He tilted his head back again, shaking it side to side like he was shaking out long curls. “I’d ensnare you with my exquisite beauty and charm.”

And looking at him, warm and bright as the sun, beautiful even with the duvet wrapped ridiculously around him, Wilhelm couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

[corinthianism]

last kiss | sam winchester (5)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst warning(s): implied/referenced non-con

masterlist | previous chapter | ao3

CHAPTER FIVE: TEN SECONDS

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even know how much time has passed since Lucifer took you away. He stashed you in some house. It looked like a normal suburban home, except it seemed he used his amped-up archangel abilities to essentially create a whole pocket dimension for you. On a surface level, every day felt like a normal day. Night and day passed just the same as it would in the real world. You had neighbors, and they were both familiar and unfamiliar. “Dean” lived right across the street whilst “Bobby” and “Cas” lived right next to you. The other houses were occupied by random people you didn’t know. It was like a bad djinn hallucination.

The routine was always the same: wake up, eat, try to kill time, sleep, repeat. In the beginning, you thought you were just having a bad dream; that Dean, Bobby, and Cas were really there with you. However, when you tried talking to them, they were way too out of character. Dean acted like a stereotypical macho man with absolutely no personality whatsoever, Bobby’s parental instincts towards you were taken to new heights in an almost cartoony way, and Cas was a helpless imbecile.

Then there was Sam. Sam was the only one who acted like himself. You’d wake up next to him, eat meals with him. You did everything you normally did with him, except in this weird world, you weren’t hunters. It felt eerily similar to the dreams you’ve had before. 

He kissed you, touched you in ways the real him would never have the courage to do, but you refused to sleep with him. No matter how many times he tried to initiate it. He wasn’t real, and this was all wrong.

He would leave at exactly 9am everyday. Those first few days, you tried finding a way to escape. You tried talking to your “friends”. You tried hurting them. You tried pleading with Sam. When nothing else worked, you tried killing him. 

And he was dead. For a while. The very next day, you woke up next to him again, as if nothing happened. After that, you resigned to just doing whatever you could to not be present in the moment. You played the role of housewife, because there was nothing else you could do.

Until now.

You woke up again, expecting to see the same cream-colored walls and smell the same ever-present smell of lavender. Instead, you were in an unfamiliar room. 

The first thing that hit you was that it was rancid compared to what you were used to, as if somebody tried to hide the smell of a dead body with some berry-scented perfume. You turned around, and there was Sam. He donned a fully white suit, his hair uncharacteristically slicked back.

“You’ve been very impressive,” he winked at you, taking his hands out of his pockets to give you a mocking slow clap. This was Lucifer and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t find a trace of Sam. “For someone so in love with him, you did a bang-up job of… well, not banging him.”

You didn’t answer.

“Aww, come on now. Giving me the silent treatment?” he stepped forward. “What if I told you… he could still hear you if you talked to him? Not that he would be able to answer. Not unless I wanted him to, of course.”

That got your attention, and it gave you a boost of courage that had otherwise been taken from you. You ran towards him, grabbing him by the collar.

“Sam? Sam! Listen to me, if you’re in there, you’ve gotta fight it! Take back control, Sam!” you pleaded desperately, your last attempt in getting your best friend back.

His expression changed, and suddenly, he grabbed your shoulders. His body language and the cadence of his voice changed as well, and for a moment, all hope was not lost. It was as if the clouds parted to reveal the sun. This was your Sam.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” he pushed you away, looking around frantically for an exit for you to use. “You have to stay away from me, you have to—”

You took several steps back, turning around to grab the doorknob, only to find that the door was just part of the wallpaper, “What—”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” it echoed from behind you. You turned around slowly, and “Sam” was standing perfectly still and upright once again. “Naughty Sam. Naughty you.”

He approached you, stopping right in front of you before he looked you up and down like a predator assessing its prey.

“So, it’s just you and me now, princess,” he tilted your chin upward to have you look at him. “You know, I can see inside Sammy’s head, and my, my, my… the thoughts he has about you aren’t as innocent as you think they are.”

You scowled at him, even if it was unnatural for you to do such a thing to Sam. This wasn’t Sam anymore, you had to remember that.

“Remember… Jessica? Oh, I bet that one broke your heart. The love of your life going off to some fancy Ivy League and getting a pretty blonde… well, if it’s any consolation, he was always thinking of you. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason he could get off whenever he was inside her.”

He laughed, as if he said the funniest thing in the world. He traced hearts and random shapes on your cheek, his laughter dying down into a contented sigh. 

“You and I are gonna have a lot of fun together,” he finally said, his hand sliding down to your neck, and then to the collar of your button-down plaid shirt. He unbuttoned it once, “Sammy’s screaming at me right now. It’s very annoying.”

He unbuttoned another one, “I don’t see why he’s not enjoying this more, honestly. After all, this is what he wanted. If anything, I’m doing him a favor.”

He leaned closer, and you desperately tried to slow down your breathing. Your heart was pounding, so much so that you were almost sure that Lucifer could hear it. You always wanted Sam, but not like this. Lucifer knew that, and so he would do exactly what he wanted. 

Lucifer, in a mission to ruin you forever, took more and more of your dignity with each button he removed. Finally, when your skin was on display for only him to see, a wide grin appeared on his face. Sam’s face.

“You’re never going to be the same after this,” he promised, and all you could do was hide somewhere in your mind where even the devil couldn’t find you.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

Lucifer took you to a cemetery, whispering in your ear about how once Michael showed up, you were gonna see the greatest battle in history. Of course, Lucifer would win.

Ever since that night, you felt like a prisoner of your mind. It was both your safe place and your punishment. You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t Sam; that it was Lucifer who stole your dignity. Sam would never… Sam could never hurt you the way Lucifer had.

Even in the presence of two archangels, you stayed silent, and accepted your fate. Half of the world was gonna burn to the ground when this was all over, and you just hoped that your death would be quick. You felt sick when Michael looked at you, something akin to both disgust and pity written all over his face.

Then, the familiar rev of Baby’s engine reached your ears. Your head shot up, seeing the Dean riding the Impala into the graveyard, right in front of Michael and Lucifer.

Dean got out of the car, his eyes immediately flickering over to you in worry, but he pressed forward and marched right up to the two archangels. 

“Hey, we need to talk.”

Lucifer scoffed, “Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to Sam.”

“You’re no longer the vessel, Dean. You got no right to be here.”

Dean turned to Michael, his voice filled with sincerity and regret, “Adam, if you’re in there somewhere, I’m so sorry.”

“Adam isn’t home right now.”

Castiel and Bobby arrived, with Cas throwing a can of holy fire at Michael to keep him at bay. This irked Lucifer, who then snapped his fingers. Cas exploded, leaving behind bits and pieces of blood and flesh.

“You know… I tried to be nice, for Sammy’s sake. But you are… such a pain in my ass,” he threw Dean against the windshield of the Impala.. Bobby shot at Lucifer’s back, prompting Lucifer to twist his hand. Bobby’s neck snapped.

Your eyes widened, two of the people you cared about was just murdered by Lucifer, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna do something about it. You ran towards Lucifer, trying to get him away from Dean. With a flick of his hand, you were thrown against a nearby tree. The impact was enough to knock you out for a few seconds, your vision falling in and out of darkness.

You laid motionless on top of the pile of dry, dead leaves, unable to do anything but watch. Lucifer got closer to Dean, grabbing him by the legs and then punching him.

“No!” was what you wanted to say, but nothing came out. You could feel a branch poking at the skin of your back.

Lucifer kept punching Dean, over and over until Dean’s face was barely recognizable.

Then something happened.

His fist was still raised in the air, and you could see the internal war raging inside him. His hands shook, and his grip on the collar of Dean’s shirt loosened. There was a glint in his eyes, one that told you whether or not the body you were talking to was Lucifer or Sam. You held your breath, eyes lasered in his face, not sure if the person in front of you was your Sam.

For him, it felt like time had stopped. There was no apocalypse. No Lucifer. No Michael, no nothing.

All he could see was the toy soldier stuck in the Impala’s ashtray. That was enough for him. The sight of the toy, the memories etched into the car, the image of his bloodied brother in front of him who, even then, was still unwilling to fight.

The memories didn’t hit him like an outside force, they came from him, blossomed from a place he forgot about. Locked in a treasure chest he kept in the deepest corners of his soul, where not even the devil could touch it. Clear as day, he relived every single one, and with each memory, the clearing grew wider. He could crawl out and push Lucifer back. 

He saw it all: the good, the bad, and the ugly. He remembered sticking that toy in the ash tray, and the stern, drunken scolding that he got from his dad soon after. He remembered him and Dean etching their initials on the car door. He remembered the fireworks. The countless nights of booze and fastfood takeout. Lying down on the hood of the car to watch the stars whenever they were in between cases. All the times Dean saved his ass, yelled at him, laughed with him, and everything in between.

His eyes met yours, and the sight of you broke his heart all over again.

Sam didn’t have much time. This much he knew. He could feel the mind-melting, soul-breaking pain of Lucifer scratching at his walls— no, he was tearing them down, howling to be in control once more. Sam could hear every single scream and whisper that Lucifer was filling his ears with and it was too much. In his gut swelled the familiar hatred that the fallen archangel harbored for humanity, and it wasn’t the boiling hot rage that most people would expect. It was the kind of hatred that flowed through each and every single blood vessel in your body; the kind that only a being as old as the devil could feel. It was quiet, deadly. It was the kind of hatred that consumed you, built up from eons of being locked in a cage like an animal. Lucifer blurred the lines between his anger and Sam’s, and that scared the younger Winchester.

But standing there with you, seeing you as if it was the first time, Sam thought he could bear it, if only a little while longer. Standing there with you made it clear that that hatred couldn’t possibly be his own, because how could he ever hate you? No, Sam Winchester loved you, and it came to him as easy as breathing.

More memories broke through, and this time, they’re of you. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. The sound of your laughter in the early morning. The time you helped him make a girl jealous in 8th grade when it was really just an excuse to be close to you. The time you kissed him when you were as high as a kite after getting your wisdom teeth removed. 

If he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of your lips on his and pretend that everything was alright. Lucifer would not take this away from him.

Finally, Sam lowered his fist and gasped as his senses were flooded with everything. You could almost sob in relief, if it wasn’t for the fact that it wouldn’t be long until Michael and Lucifer came back with a vengeance, but nothing could ever be worse than what would come next. Sam took several steps back, rummaging through his pocket to retrieve the Four Horsemen’s rings. Your muscles ached as you tried to get back up, but nothing could trump the pain in your chest as you watched Sam slowly back away from Dean.

It’s cruel, probably the cruelest thing that the universe threw at you. You had seconds of clarity, and they were the seconds counting down to the love of your life’s suicide. Sam looked at Dean, and then at you, and you almost wished he didn’t. For a moment, you thought that maybe this was all some one sick, twisted nightmare and that you were gonna wake up any minute now. You blinked, but Dean was still beaten and bloody and Sam still felt so far away. There were tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Even now, he still tried to keep on a brave face for you. It almost made you smile. A tiny part of you hoped that maybe the apocalypse wouldn’t be so bad as long as you went down with him. Almost as if you wanted Lucifer to win just so you could keep Sam in the only way you could. The thought passed as quickly as it came, all while feeling like a knife had been twisted in your stomach. 

“It’s gonna be okay, I got him,” he breathed heavily, stepping away from you and Dean even further. “We’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

He sounded as if he didn’t really believe himself either.

He pulled out the Horsemen’s rings from his pocket and threw them on the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. The ground shook, and before you knew it, a large pit had opened up in the soil. From where you stood, all you could see was a black void, but you knew what it was. It was hell. It was the deepest, darkest, most depraved part of hell and Sam was going in with a one-way ticket. 

“Sammy,” your voice broke. He turns his head to look at you again. You didn’t know what to say. Did you want to stop him? Jump into the pit with him? Profess your undying love for him?

None of those options seemed right. The clock was ticking.

Ten. 

You could see how scared he was, his hands trembled with the weight of what he was about to do. You wanted to go up to him, hold him, tell him that he was going to be okay, but you couldn’t. It was dangerous, yes, but you knew that if you took even just one step closer to him, you wouldn’t let him go.

Nine.

“I’m sorry,” he called you. “For everything.”

He took another step back. He knew what Lucifer did to you, and it crushed him. It took everything in him to not go to you and protect you the way he wanted to. To beg for your forgiveness.

Eight.

“Sam, please,” you begged, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for. You looked over at Dean, trying to get him to back you up. World be damned, you won’t fucking lose Sam. Dean could only stare back at you, his head hung low in defeat. He was letting go, and he was telling you to do the same.

Seven.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and Sam yelled at you and Dean to stay back. Even though it broke your heart to do so, you did as he asked, scurrying over to Dean’s side to help him get away from Sam. Dean grunted in pain, clutching your hand that was on his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm.

Six.

Sam called your name, and nothing was more important. You stood up, heart clenched in anticipation. 

“I need,” he took a deep breath. “I need you to know.”

Five.

“Need to know what, Sam?” a cry escaped your lungs. 

“That it’s always been you,” he smiled sadly, voice barely heard over the chaos. “It was always gonna be you.”

It was odd, the way the heat rushed to your cheeks. The way your own heart beat twice, thrice as fast than it already was. You could almost let the world around you fade away. There was only Sam.

He spoke again, a little louder, a little braver, “You know that, right?”

Four.

“I know,” you tried to stifle your sobs. His admission hung in the air, filling your lungs with everything that was him. He loved you, and you always knew. 

“That’s my girl,” he kept smiling, determined to make sure that that was the last thing you saw. He didn’t want you to remember his death. He just wanted you to remember him. 

Sam knew why you didn’t say it, and it was for the same reason he did. It was better this way. Saying those three words would set things in stone, and especially now that he was seconds away from his death, he didn’t see the point of hurting you that much more.

Three.

Michael returned, a wave of unseen energy washing over you and Dean at his arrival. His anger distorted Adam’s young face. Panic overtook the anger, however, when he noticed just how close Sam was from jumping off the edge.

Two.

Sam closed his eyes, letting gravity pull him in. Michael screamed, rushing over to stop Sam from falling in. For a split-second, you feared the worst would come to pass. That Michael would save Sam and just resume his world-ending battle with Lucifer.

Sam’s eyes shot open when Michael’s hands tried to get him away from the pit but immediately, his gaze flickered over to you.

You, with the pain of a thousand lifetimes weighing on you, and the cuts and bruises and tears to show for it.

You, with the laughter that pulled him out of every nightmare on the days when his own mind wouldn’t let him rest.

You, with the proud, contagious smile after every hilariously bad joke, all because you wanted to see him smile, too.

His heart was yours, perhaps it had been since the beginning, but Sam knew one thing: this world was better with you in it.

With all the strength he could muster, he grabbed Michael by the lapel of Adam’s jacket, and pulled him into the pit. 

Sam was gone.

One.

When the pit closed up and left nothing but the Four Horsemen’s rings behind, you forced yourself to move away from Dean and approach the rings, kneeling by the spot where the pit just was. The world was safe again, though you didn’t know how long that would last. The grass was soft under the palm of your hand, as if there wasn’t a massive doorway to hell there just moments prior. You let yourself cry; to truly pour your heart out for someone who wouldn’t be able to hear it.

You would never have another morning coffee run with him or another all-nighter spent on researching monster lore. No more pop culture debates or stitching up each other’s wounds. You would never make him smile, ruffle his hair, or hold his hand again, nor would you feel him keeping an eye on you while you slept. 

Since before you hunted your first monster, Sam had been by your side. Now that you didn’t have him, it felt as though you weren’t a whole person. Like your very soul had been torn apart and its pieces were lost in the wind, never to be complete again.

Castiel returned, seemingly resurrected by none other than God Himself, and immediately helped Dean and Bobby get back up on their feet, all shiny and new. When he walked over to you, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek and heal all your wounds, you moved away. Your face was littered with small cuts from being thrown to the side by Lucifer, and you were sure there would be a massive bruise on your back from the impact.

You still refused to be healed. 

“Let it be,” you told Cas quietly. He frowned, hesitant to heed your request, but he obliged anyway.

Seconds. It only took seconds for you to lose everything. You didn’t know what you were feeling; if only there was a word, any word, for you to explain to Dean, Cas, maybe Bobby, the way you felt everything and nothing at the same time.

Truth be told, you were lucky to have only lost one person, but the lingering question in your mind was why did it have to be the person who meant everything to you? There was no answer, and the silence was the worst of it. Sam wasn’t there to tell you that he’s okay, and he won’t be able to ever again. Your injuries ached. You almost welcomed the discomfort, desperate for anything to keep you grounded.

A large hand rested on your shoulder. It was Dean. You shared a look with him, a silent exchange of “I’m sorry” and “I’m here” to each other. In your grief, it was easy to forget that Dean had lost his baby brother, just as you had lost the love of your life. Moments later, Bobby stood beside the two of you. Three people brought together in grief that they weren’t sure they could ever recover from. You knew then and there, that you’d spend the rest of your life picking up the tiny little pieces of your heart, trying to be okay. Because that’s what Sam would’ve wanted.

You would never know so many things. The pain he’d go through. The fact that as he fell into the darkness, white-hot flames burning his flesh, he thought of you. Poked and prodded, stabbed and skinned, broken and put back together just to be broken again. What Sam knew, even if you didn’t, was that he’d make this same choice again and again because he knew you would be okay.

Sam Winchester died, and it came as easy to him as loving you.

[aylacavebear]

Retribution Chapter 4

Summary: You had DID for most of your life, over forty years, since you were two. It wasn't until after you were forty-three that you were finally able to heal it and become a singular. You're a hunter and have been with Dean for a very long time. Once you become singular, you have to face the horrors that your mental illness subjected on those you cared about, loved. Can you get past seeing yourself as worse than any monster you've ever hunted down?

Pairing is Dean Winchester x Reader/You

Warnings: Sexual Abuse (memories), Physical Abuse (memories), DID - Dissociation Identity Disorder (AKA MPD), Mental Health Issues, Alcoholism, Self-Deprecation, Thoughts of deserving to have it all done to "you".

Please, if you suffer from any mental illness, seek help. There are people out there who can help you get through it, no matter how alone you feel now or how hard it may seem.

A/N: This is going to be very dark, darker than anything I've written thus far. It will include many triggers - abuse both sexual and physical - in memories and what happens to the reader. I'm hoping it will have a happy ending but right now, I am not sure where this will go. This is your main warning before you begin reading. A/N: Dreams and Memories are indented in italics. Thoughts are in italics only.

Word Count: 3865

----------------------------------------- Chapter 4 - Rock Bottom

The nightmares were the same, your personalities molesting him nearly every night from the time you had moved in with him. It wasn’t bad on the nights when you had to sleep in the car with him and Sam, mostly since Sam was there. They didn’t want witnesses. Even on the nights when the three of you shared a motel room, it wasn’t bad, as Sam was always in the other bed in the same room.

It wasn’t until they found the bunker that things got really bad. You and Dean opted to share a room from the start, finally having some privacy. At first, things seemed normal. He’d brought up you getting handsy in your sleep before, even seductively moving against him to the point where he’d wake up rock hard from your movements. The first week was great. The second week, though, that’s when it started getting bad.

“What do you mean you woke up inside her?” Sam asked, almost feeling dirty having this bizarre conversation with his brother. “I don’t know. It was weird. I woke up and was halfway inside her, spooning her. Then, when I grabbed her hip to keep going, she elbowed me. I barely had time to block it,” Dean explained, completely confused. “Well, have you talked to her about it?” Sam asked as his mind raced with thoughts. “Not yet, no. I wasn’t sure what to say. She hasn’t done that before,” Dean sighed. “I can look more into that thing she said she had. What was it…” Sam trailed off, trying to remember. “The DID?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. I can do some research on it. See what I can find out,” Sam offered. “That might help,” Dean replied, giving his brother a thankful smile. You’d been listening from the hallway where the rooms were. Neither of them knew you were there. Your mind raced, having no clue what to think about what you’d just heard. As far as you knew, you’d never physically hurt anyone before, let alone Dean, especially in your sleep. Then there was what he said about how it happened. You knew you were different in a lot of ways, having gaps in your memories, waking up in places you had no clue as to how you got there, and then there were other things like hangovers when you didn’t remember drinking the night before. Then, there were the “people” in your head that you talked to. They helped you do things, taking care of things you didn’t know how and you’d watch from within the mind.  Now you were standing near the kitchen hallway, listening to another conversation the brothers were having in the kitchen.  “You’re not gonna like this,” Sam sighed. “What?” Dean asked. “Well, DID is caused by severe trauma in childhood, before the kid turns eight. It’s usually sexual abuse by someone close to them. However, if the child has other issues like autism, ADHD, or something like that, even something as simple as harsh discipline can cause it,” Sam explained. Slowly, you brought your hand up, covering your gaping mouth at what Sam had said. That scared you, and your mind raced with questions. And then you saw it, the switch. The entire demeanor of your body changed, now standing straight, expressionless. You continued to listen, though, wanting to know what their next move was. “How can I help her, Sam?” Dean asked, and you could hear the sadness in his tone. “She needs professional help. This isn’t something you can help her get through. Plus, all her personalities have to want it, or it won’t work,” Sam continued explaining. “She’d never go for that. She hates doctors,” Dean sighed, “There has to be something online. Resources for someone who has DID and can’t see a doctor about it.” Sam sighed, “I’ll keep looking. Let’s just hope that she wants to get better. I just don’t know how long I can sit back and stay quiet, knowing what her personalities are doing to you at night. Then there’s how they are argumentative, deliberately making problems not only between you and her, but me and you and me and her.” “I just don’t want to lose her,” Dean said sadly. “Why would you lose her?” Sam asked, sounding puzzled. “The one I fell in love with, Sam. She’s in there. Sometimes, she comes out. I always know when it’s her, too. The others, they don’t let her out very often. So, I relish the time I do get to spend with her,” Dean explained, almost sounding as if he was lost in a memory. “One personality isn’t worth you getting abused like you are. No matter how much she means to you,” Sam tried to explain.

You woke up to the train horn, startled slightly since the train wasn’t moving very fast anymore. Peaking through a slit in the boxcar, you realized you were now at a train station, and it was nearly dawn.

Time to get a move on.

At the moment, you weren’t entirely sure what town you’d ended up in. Stuffing the mostly empty bottle of whiskey back in your bag, you jumped off the boxcar, not wanting to get caught having hitched a ride illegally. Ending up in a police station would have made it far to easy for the brothers to locate you, again.

Using the last bits of shadows of the fading darkness, you carefully made your way toward businesses and civilization. Chicago, Illinois. 

Damn, need to get out of this city.

This wasn’t a safe city, and you knew it. Mostly because your personalities had been here before, when you had DID, and you didn’t need to have anyone recognize you. You couldn’t risk stealing a car either, knowing the brothers would be watching for that. 

Guess that means I’m hitchhiking.

That wasn’t the safest either, but you didn’t have many options at the moment. You decided to head toward the lake and make your way further east. It seemed simpler than going along the main roads of the town.

As cars passed, you stuck out your thumb, but none of them stopped. You figured they were probably going to work and had no time for you, which only made your self-deprecating thoughts worse—that you really were worthless. 

Your mind wandered as you continued walking. Any normal person would have gone to their family, their friends, and asked for help. You couldn’t, though. Right now, you felt like a monster. Thoughts of calling Cas or Crowley, both for different reasons, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do either at the moment.

When someone did stop, it was almost noon. At least it was a woman.

“Where you headed?” she asked you as you peeked your head in her passenger window.

“East. Doesn’t matter where. Just as far as you’re willing to take me,” you replied, giving her a friendly smile.

“Hop in. I’m heading a few hours down the road,” she replied with a soft smile.

“Thanks. I really appreciate this,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat and keeping your bag in your lap.

You knew how you looked and were thankful the woman didn’t push you to talk about anything. The only other sound in the car was the music from her radio. You kept your view out the window for the duration of the drive. Then, you thanked her when she dropped you off at a gas station somewhere on the outskirts of a town.

Knowing you needed to eat something, you went and bought some jerky and a couple of those ready-made sandwiches most gas stations carried, along with a couple of bottles of water and another bottle of whiskey. Unfortunately you had to use one of your fake credit cards, as you’d run out of cash and hadn’t wanted to hustle pool to make more. Bars were the last thing you wanted to go into.

You nibbled on the jerky as you continued down the road, thumb out every time a vehicle passed by, even if it was few and far between. The day wore on, and soon, the sun began to set. You would have found the display of colors beautiful were you not in the mental state you were in. Just after dark, a pickup truck pulled over.

“Where you headed, little lady?” the man asked you.

If you’d been in your right frame of mind, you would have just kept walking. “East, as far as you’ll take me,” you replied, looking in through the passenger window.

“Hop in,” he said, giving you a smile.

“Thanks,” you told him, sliding into the passenger seat.

The inside of the truck was fairly clean, much to your surprise. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, slightly scruffy, and with shoulder-length dark brown hair. You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into by getting into his truck.

“What are you running from?” the man asked you as he began driving again.

“My past,” you answered, looking out the window.

“I could help you with that,” he said calmly, half watching you and half watching the road.

“I don’t need help. I just need to stay away from people,” you told him plainly.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, now curious.

You sighed. This wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, but since you hadn’t had anyone to talk about it, it all came flooding out. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you told this stranger every detail of your past that you had remembered thus far, although you left out the brothers' names.

“I’m a monster. I don’t deserve to live,” you sobbed out at the end, now mostly curled into a ball.

“You want to die?” he asked you, prying for more information.

After getting your tears to stop and taking several slow, deep breaths, “Yes and no. I mostly want to give him retribution for what happened. I just don’t know how to go about subjecting myself to that kind of abuse for the same length of time,” you answered, fairly quietly.

The man smirked, and you only caught it out of the corner of your eye as he turned to look at you, “I might know someone who could help you with that,” he replied, his eyes going black.

Your heart began pounding in your chest as the air caught in your lungs, barely able to breathe. He was a demon, and you had nothing on you to defend against him. All that stuff was back in the trunk of your car. 

He laughed, “I’m not gonna hurt you. My boss, he’s been looking for you for a few days now,” he began explaining as his gaze went back to the road. “He sent over a dozen of us out looking for you.”

Terror gripped you, and all you could do was stare at him. You had no idea how you were going to get yourself out of this little mess, even with the memories of being a hunter from the personalities who had done that. Demons only had one boss, and you knew that, Crowley. Then, curiosity got the better of you.

“Why is Crowley looking for me?” you asked, your voice shaking.

The demon grinned, sending a chill down your body, “The Winchesters are looking for you. So, Crowley wants you.”

He’d said it so plainly as if it was a common occurrence. You took several slow, deep breaths and turned back to look out the window, slowly getting comfortable again. There was no point in attempting to run, not now.

Perhaps this is for the best. I can get my questions answered now.

Your phone vibrated again in your pocket. With a silent sigh, you pulled it out. It was Sam, again. The demon glanced at you as you turned off your phone and slid it back into your pocket, which made him smile.

Nearly twelve hours later, the demon was pulling up to an old, abandoned asylum. You stared at it as the demon got out, and to your surprise, he opened the passenger door for you.

“Uh, thanks?” you told him, fairly confused. Demons normally didn’t have manners, nor were they nice.

“This way,” he said, so you followed.

As the demon guided you toward Needham Asylum, Crowley’s base of operations on Earth, an ominous feeling washed over you. It was a three-story building made of stone and brick, tattered due to weathering and abandoned prior to Crowley making it his. Broken stones littered the sides of the long set of stairs leading to the porch, where a heavy door stood.

The demon opened the door, letting you enter ahead of him. He then guided you down a hallway to your right. The demons the two of you passed only stared, staying quiet. You’d fought lots of demons when you had DID, even exorcised them out of their host body and back to hell. This though, being at Crowley’s base of operations, demons all around the place, was fairly intimidating, especially with nothing to defend yourself.

This place reminded you more of an old castle and dungeon than an asylum. He stopped in front of hardwood-arched double doors that came together at a point where the two met at the top. A demon guard was on either side of the doorway, both staring at you and the demon who pushed the doors open.

Inside, it opened up into a large throne room, more medieval-style torches adorned the columns that went from the floor to the ceiling, leading into more archways, casting dim light around the rather large room. There were several demons around the room, doing various tasks, but they all stopped to stare at the two of you as you followed the demon, who approached the throne. 

There he sat, Crowley, the King of Hell himself, upon a dark wooden throne on a platform that took two steps to reach. He seemed bored until his gaze found you behind the demon. He was dressed in his typical black suit. Always the businessman.

Before the demon could speak, though, Crowley spoke, “Wel, well, well. What do we have here?” His voice echoed through the chamber, sending a chill down your spine. He seemed amused at your presence. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you gracing my humble abode so willingly.” His Scottish accent always made your skin crawl.

You swallowed hard, trying not to lose your nerve now. The demon that had led you there bowed his head before stepping to the side, leaving you alone in the center of the room. Everything you’d thought about, contemplated and debated left your mind.

“Something's different about you,” Crowley speculated before he stood and moved closer to you. When you took a couple of small steps back and away from him, he chuckled. “Now, love, aren’t getting cold feet, are you?”

Crowley walked around you, almost like he was studying you. It took everything in you to keep your eyes on him, “The demon said… you were looking for me. Why?” you asked, but your voice was far more timid than you wanted it to be.

“Well, isn’t this an interesting development?” he mused, raising an eyebrow as he moved to stand in front of you. “They’re all gone now, aren’t they? And you’re what’s left.”

You flinched at his words, “You knew?” there was far more confidence in your tone than you felt at the moment.

“I make it my business to know things. You still didn’t answer me, earlier,” he pushed.

Your heart was pounding, and it was hard to breathe, let alone look at Crowley for very long. “I’m a monster,” you mumbled, now looking at the floor, “I-I can’t face them. I can’t face…” You tried to say his name, but your voice broke as you felt the tears burn your eyes.

If you’d been looking at Crowley, you would have seen his amusement but also caution. He knew just how persistent the Winchesters could be when they wanted something.

“They- he deserves retribution for what I’ve done to him. The same should be done to me… for the same amount of time…” you mumbled out, slowly looking up at Crowley.

You couldn’t read him. All you could tell was that he was thinking. Then, he spoke, “For now, you’ll stay in a cell.”

With those words, one demon took your bag, then your phone from your pocket, while two others escorted you out of the throne room, down a few different hallways, and pushed you into an empty cell. You didn’t fight them, and you didn’t turn around when you heard the cell door lock.

This was a brilliant idea. Now I don’t even have my whiskey.

You sighed and sat down on the very uncomfortable surface meant to be a bed, taking in your surroundings. The place stank of blood, death, and bodily excrements. Not to mention the sulfur due to all the demons around.

The cell also wasn’t very well lit, as the torches were in the hallway, casting more shadow than anything inside. Lying down on the makeshift bed, you stared at the ceiling, what of it you could see anyway. 

I’ve hurt him so much, even if I’m not them. It’s still the same face, the same body. All he’ll ever see is them. I’d never do those things to him, but that doesn’t matter. 

Your mind wandered, which wasn’t a good thing, especially sober.

You were in your shared room again, and you could tell that it was the personality that loved him who was in control of the body. You watched as she roused from sleep, far earlier than normal. She looked over at his sleeping form, giving him a soft smile as you felt the tears begin to slide down your cheeks. She moved closer, gently dancing her fingertips along his chest as she leaned on her elbow, lying next to his naked body, only love in her eyes. It was when she reached for his face that he flinched away from her, quickly covering his face with his arms. She shied away from him, curling up in a ball with her knees tucked close to her chest, and sobbed silently. This had happened numerous times since the three of you had moved into the bunker. He’d also jumped in his sleep when she’d gone to wake him up before, attempting to get away from her before she could physically assault him. It always happened with her, the personality that loved him, and it broke her heart, and now yours as you watched silently.

Something pulled you from your thought or nightmare, you weren’t quite sure which. It was possible you had dozed off, but still, you weren’t sure. You turned your head a bit to look out through the bars of the front of the cell. 

Wonder what that sound was…

When no one came by, you just sighed and returned your gaze to the ceiling. Since you were still on Earth and not in Hell, time passed normally. You thought back, to when Dean had gone to Hell. One month was equivalent to ten years. Your mind then wandered to the work you’d done on yourself and the DID.

It had been hard and tedious, but you could only work on it when other personalities wouldn’t interfere, and you could be alone, away from the brothers. The beginning timeframe felt like you’d done nothing more than gone in circles.

“How come you’re up so late?” Sam asked you a year after you’d begun research and attempting to heal your illness, causing you to jump and slam the laptop shut. “Couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled, not looking up at him. You watched from across the room, and it was clear to you that Sam didn’t believe the excuse you’d given him at the time. “Want some company?” he asked, although you could tell he didn’t really mean it. “No. I think I’m gonna try to go get some sleep,” you mumbled again, grabbing the laptop before getting up. As you watched the interaction in the memory, it was clear that Sam wanted to say so much more to you, but he was holding his tongue. You sighed, knowing it was because of his brother that he was staying quiet and keeping his thoughts to himself. You followed yourself in the memory, to an empty room. The door closed, and you were sitting on the bed, laptop open, reading whatever was on the screen about healing your illness. You could also see tears in your eyes from the glow of the screen. The memory changed, and you were now in one of the archive rooms that the brothers never went into. You saw yourself sitting in a corner with the laptop again. Squinting your eyes, you realize this memory was from only a year ago when the mergers began happening. This time though, it was Dean who walked in on you. “Hey, why are you hiding in here?” he asked you softly, taking care not to approach you too quickly, having no clue which personality was present at the moment. You closed the laptop but didn’t look up at him, “I just wanted quiet.”  You almost didn’t notice how your tone had no feeling in it as you watched things play out before you. Their memories were always in third person. “You’ve been hiding a lot these days. Wanna talk about it?” he asked you, still a good five feet away from you. “Not really. I wouldn’t know what to even say,” you answered, now looking up at him. Watching, you saw it, the change in you. It was in your eyes, and at least to you, it was apparent that things were different with you. “I’ve been with you through so much. I know I’m not the best when it comes to emotions, but I’m here to lean on. I wish you’d let me help you,” he sighed. “You can’t help me with this,” you sighed, looking away from him. He said nothing and just left you alone. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you opened the laptop again, going back to what you’d been working on. Watching everything made you shed silent tears. You remembered this moment, and on that laptop was the document where you’d been communicating with your other personalities, attempting to get them all on the same page. 

“Hey, Crowley wants to see you,” a male demon said from the other side of the bars, pulling you from the memory, or nightmare, you weren’t sure.

“Fine,” you mumbled, slowly standing up and approaching the cell door, but the demon didn’t open it, he just smirked.

“Oh, you’re not getting out. He’s coming down here to see you,” the demon said in a low, pleased tone.

You just rolled your eyes and sat back down on the makeshift bed, keeping your mouth shut. That was when the angel appeared in your cell, grabbed your shoulder, and the two of you disappeared.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 5 - Guardian Angel

Retribution Master List

Tag List: @jc-winchester @nancymcl

[secretdiaryofcrowley]

Where we left off:

Nina, purveyor of coffee, whirling into the scene like a thunderstorm, woke our hero from his precious sleep (and a weird dream) to give him - me - another telling-off.

She's quite scary when she's angry. Not demon scary, but most definitely human scary.

"Do you even understand how all of this affects Maggie?" I'm not surprised at the burst of emotion in her voice as she says the name.

"She's been worried sick about you! Trying to write to you, trying to call you, and some days even waiting by your car for you to wake up, so she could make sure you're all right."

"I'm not." How does she even find me? I drive around and park the Bentley in different places every couple of days.

"We KNOW. Do you think none of us has gone through breakup before?"

Well, maybe you have. I certainly haven't. I don't do relationships and I have no idea how to process this. Except for drinking, sleeping and curling up in a little snake ball of pain.

"Of course it's bad. It hurts like hell..."

Worse. Speaking from experience here.

"... and you have every right to be sad and mopey and angry, but stop shutting out your friends. Talk to us! At least let us know where you are and what's going on."

"I don't have friends. Never wanted friends. Completely friendless person, me."

She sighs. "Yes, you're a devil and you're evil, blah blah blah, real man solves his problems on his own. Heard all of that before, except maybe the devil part. But you've got to realize that your actions have consequences for others. You're not alone in this world."

But I am.

I've always been alone. For 6000 years on this godforsaken planet, doing the bidding of my ridiculous headoffice and trying not to go completely insane. Using every excuse to be close to my angel and every excuse not to get too close, so we wouldn't be in trouble. Missing him after every encounter, every meeting, every conversation. Sometimes positively yearning for his presence, but never ever being able to act on it.

Because that's just the way things are.

I was alone the last time I hit rock bottom. Healing one step at a time, slowly piecing myself together after my 33 years of torture. Because I allowed myself to save one human soul and got caught at it. One. Single. Human. Soul.

No good deed goes unpunished.

I never had anyone to talk to because angels are my enemies, demons are my rivals and humans wouldn't be able to shoulder all this bullshit that's been going on with me. And God doesn’t answer to any of us.

And yet, Nina has the nerve to come here, shake me awake and tell me that I'm not alone? That I’m supposed to 'talk about it'? Throw overboard all my harshly earned survival skills because now apparently, I have friends?

No, absolutely not. I don't make 'friends' with other people. It's not something demons - the word is demon, not devil - do. You can stop pretending to care now and walk away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she throws my very own words back at me. “For once in your life trust somebody!”

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

[ilikereadings]

Nighttime Comfort

Summary: Bradley wakes up in a sweat after a nightmare about Mav getting shot down and you comfort him

Warnings: nightmares/flashbacks, crying, angst(?), fluff, use of Y/N

Words: 1460

❗️I wrote this all myself please don’t repost❗️

——————————————————————————-

The dagger squad got back from the uranium enrichment mission just over a month ago. Bradley was back at work only a week after he got back home. During these 4 weeks, Bradley has been having dreadful nightmares and flashbacks about the mission. You’ve only woken up to one of them, and he told you everything was okay and it was just a weird dream. You believed him and haven’t noticed anything weird since. Not until the other morning, when you came upstairs with his cup of coffee.

——————————————————————————-

Every Saturday morning since Bradley got back from his mission, you have made breakfast in bed for the two of you. This morning was no different. When you went downstairs to get the mugs of coffee, Bradley was slowly waking up but wasn’t fully awake. You had given him a kiss on the head before heading down. But when you came back up, you found him curled up on his side, wide awake but looking terrified as ever. You quickly put the mugs down on his side table and knelt down on the floor by his side of the bed. His fist was tightly gripping the duvet, and he was very tense.

"Bradley?!" Bradley, are you okay? What's wrong, baby? Talk to me, please." You frantically ask him.

He blinks a few times before loosening his grip on the duvet. You can see his muscles relax as he takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. You sat in silence for a minute. During that time, you reached your hand over to hold his, intertwining your fingers.

"I, uh.." he began, clearing his throat. "I didn’t want to scare you or make you worry. I’m sorry, Y/N." Bradley continued.

He sounded so sad and guilty. You weren’t sure why, though.

“Baby, what do you mean?" You asked.

"Ever since the mission.. I, I’ve been having some, uh, nightmares and flashbacks."

He paused.

"Specifically when Mav got shot down." Looking down at where your hands meet, not wanting to meet your sorrowful eyes.

"So.. when I woke up the other night and you said it was a weird dream.. it was a nightmare?"

You felt a little hurt that he hadn’t told you, but you also fully understood why he wouldn’t want you to know. When you said that, Bradley looked into your eyes, giving you a slight nod.

"Oh Bradley.. baby.. I love you so much. I need to know these things so I can help you. It makes me feel sick that you’ve been trying to deal with this alone.. I.. I want to help Bradley."

——————————————————————————-

Ever since that morning, you’ve been more attentive during the night. Bradley has had nightmares just about every night since, and you’ve woken up to help him every time. You can tell they’re starting to get less intense as well, which is a positive sign that he’s getting better. Bradley has been more open with you, which you really appreciated.

Everything seemed to be getting better until last night. Last night was Bradley’s worst nightmare.

—————————————————————————-

Time, 11:42 PM. Bradley was having trouble falling asleep, and even though you were asleep, you knew he wasn’t. You were trying to be more aware of things like this at night ever since Bradley told you about his nightmares.

Time, 12:31 AM. Bradley had finally fallen asleep.

Time: 2:28 AM. You woke up after hearing some whimpering. As you open your eyes and look around, you see Bradley slightly shaking, his face all scrunched up like he’s stressed out about something. He whimpered more; you were able to make out some words, like "no" and "Mav", You even thought you heard a "help" mumbled in there. You didn’t know what to do or how to help him yet, so you decided to gently place your hand on his. At first he jerked his hand away, but about 30 seconds later he woke up and sat up straight so fast that you thought it would give him whiplash. He starts looking around the room, breathing heavily and eyebrows furrowed. When his eyes finally catch sight of you, he locks eyes with you, and his eyes start to water.

—————————————————————————-

ROOSTERS DREAM

There’s a missile coming right for me. I released my flares to stop it. Success. But there’s another one coming for me. I try my flares, but they’re all out. Shit. I’m going to die. What is he doing? Mav was now flying over me and releasing his flares to stop the missile. Holy shit! He did it! He sav- Mav got shot down.

"MAV!" I screamed. “Mav, do you copy?!" I tried over the radio. No response. "We have to help him! Please!"

"Rooster. He’s gone." I heard Bob say to me.

"No.." I mumble to myself.

Then I felt something on my hand.. and I’m awake, back in my bed, in my room, in my house. I look around, and my eyes land on you.

—————————————————————————-

"Bradley? Bradley, look at me. Are you okay, baby?" You ask him as calmly as you could.

Next thing you know, Bradley breaks out into a sob. You felt so sorry for him, immediately wrapping your arms around him and hugging him close to you.

"Oh baby.. shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you." You whisper to him as his sobs continue.

Bradley’s arms are curled up in between the two of you, holding onto the collar of the shirt you’re wearing. You rest your cheek on his head, taking one of your hands and slowly rubbing his back.

"I-I’m so sorry." Bradley chokes out in between sobs.

“Baby, it’s not your fault.. it’s okay." You calmly replied.

After a few minutes, Bradley manages to calm down enough that he can now breathe normally. You were still rubbing his back when he spoke up.

"That was the worst one yet." He said softly as another tear rolled down his cheek.

Bradley pulled back to sit and pulled his knees into his arms, dropping his head a little.

"If you think you can.. do you wanna talk about it?" You ask carefully, not wanting to scare him.

"It was just so realistic. It was exactly what happened that day.. I-.." emphasizing the ‘exactly’. He released a big sigh before continuing, "Y/N, he almost died. I almost lost Maverick. I’ve already lost my father and my mother, I don’t know what I would do if I lost Mav too. I mean, I pushed him out of my life for years, and I really regret it. But if I lost him right after we made up.. I don’t think I would ever be able to forgive myself."

At this point, you had a tear rolling down your cheek. When Bradley noticed this, he immediately started apologizing for making you cry, putting his hand on your cheek and wiping your tear away. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch and let out a breathy laugh.

You honestly didn’t know how to reply to such a sad and truthful confession from Bradley. You leaned in closer to rest your head on his shoulder and give him a big hug. Bradley loosely wrapped his arms around your waist, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming wet from his still-falling tears.

"Bradley I love you so much, I don’t think you even know. I am so grateful that both you and Maverick are back and safe.” Because if you died, I would kill you." You say the last part with a teasing tone.

You feel Bradley’s body shake in your arms as he laughs at your joke. You release Bradley from your hug and give him a sweet kiss on the lips. Your hand softly holds the back of his head as his hands rest gently on the small of your back. You pull back and rest your forehead against his, looking into his eyes.

"So.. you better now, baby?" You ask Bradley.

"Almost.. I think I’ll feel even better if you kiss me again." Bradley says while looking at your lips and back up to your eyes, pouting his lip a little and giving you puppy dog eyes. You lean your head back and laugh at his expression, but ultimately end up giving him another kiss to the lips.

When you both lay down again to go to sleep, Bradley wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head into your shoulder.

"I love you, Bradley." You say barley above a whisper, not sure if he even heard it.

"I love you too, Y/N, thank you, my love." He replied.

Needless to say, you both ended up falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

[bolderfunkyman]

♡ Yandere Kaveh Part 2 ♡

Okay it has been a while im sorry.. But I am back at it again! And i have part 2 finally done. it's gonna be several parts so there also will come a part 3 and 4. I don't wanna rush it. Link to part one = Part1

its kaveh x reader there are no mentions of genders.

Word count: 1,3K

im also testing a new writing format with a POV please let me know what you think of it!

Content: Lovesick, Obsession, Manipulation, blood, Mindillness, smut, fluff, possesiveness. MINORS DO NOT INTARACT

reminder as to where we lefr: You stayed at the library for way to long and kaveh was worried about you. He couldnt find you. You walked home alone and then you got jumped. Kaveh came to save you. But as suddenly as he was there, as suddenly he dissapeared again.

A playlist to set the mood -Link to playlist-

Kaveh POV:

After he scared off the ermites. He couldn’t help but feel anger about what happened. So instead he followed you home without you knowing. And when he knew you were safely home. He went after the emirates. He couldn’t leave it be. They hurted you. That's not something he can accept. After a while he found them. They were killed. If you saw the scene it would have seemed as if a slaughter had taken place. But it was Kaveh who showed them how angry he actually was with them. He often repeated to them to stay away from his girl. Although she didn’t know yet she was his. He made sure to clean up the scene and made sure no traces were left behind. Kaveh quickly returned home, washed his clothes and went to bed.

Falling asleep thinking of you. Hoping you now saw him as your hero, a knight in shiny armor. 

Jump to present day reader pov -

As you woke up from your sleep you noticed that you had a hazy memory of what happened the night before. All you remember is that Kaveh left in a hurry and that you felt like something or someone was watching you walk home. You started your daily morning routine before heading to The Akademiya.

You kinda forgot you normally walk with Kaveh to the Akademiya, So when you heard someone call out your name you didn’t right away think it was him.

“Hey, why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?” Kaveh asked.

Oh no i’m sorry! I kinda had a weird morning. My head was still filled with what happened yesterday’, you told him. “Oh… did they give you nightmares?” he looked at you concerned while saying this.

I guess so? I just have a hazy memory as if it was a fever dream but, it wasn't a dream it was reality, you looked at him while saying this. Do you perhaps know more? I know you were there as well, kaveh. 

“All I know is that I saved you from those ermites. And after that I had to hurry to a meeting, they didn’t do anything to you right?” he asked. No, they didn’t do anything. I got home safely. Although I did feel like something was watching me. Maybe it was my mind. Because of what happened. I also really didn't eat anything before bed. Not the smartest choice I made I guess.. You gave him a weak smile.

“Maybe I should take you home? You clearly aren’t feeling well” Kaveh told you.

No no I'm fine really, I take it easy today and after all this I just go home to eat and sleep. That probably will help me feel better. 

“Hmm if you say so. I’ll wait for you at our spot to walk you home okay?” he still looked very concerned at you. Yeah that’s fine. I promise I won't forget this time. 

Your day just passed by silently and slowly as if time barely moved. But it reached it’s end and you were able to leave the Akademiya. And indeed kaveh was sitting there waiting for you. He also already got you a drink. 

“Finally! there you are I got worried” He sounded energetic, like a puppy happy to see you. 

Mhm today was quite energy draining if i’m being honest. 

“Shall I carry you home then?” He joked. Oh My god have you been hanging out with Cyno a lot or something? Just as bad of a joke.

“But I wasn’t joking I wouldn’t mind carrying you home” And he indeed sounded serious about it.

No, I will be fine walking  by myself I believe. “If you say so, I am almost done with this design and then we can have a walk around or I will just take you home?” He said.

“They will be able to get home by herself, Kaveh” A man told him. You turned your head to see who was talking to him. 

"Al Haitham? What are you doing here?” He asked the man. He looked pretty annoyed. His eyes almost daggers at this man.

“Maybe you have forgotten kaveh? Do I need to speak it out? Do they already know?” He had a blank stare at kaveh. No emotion it seems. Kind of cold.

Know what? You asked. 

“Nevermind It. I’m sorry I have to go. I can’t walk you home today I'm afraid” And so he stood up and followed this man named Al Haitham. You did hear him bickering with this man a lot. You knew he always had something to say about him.. But seeing him argue with him is something else. 

You are interested in their relationship. If they are friends or not. But seeing as how tired you felt you decided it was enough for today and go home. Take a snack and then sleep. A good night's rest, it sounded like a dream for you at this moment. 

Kaveh POV: 

So why exactly did you have to interrupt me? I was having a nice time with them you know” You can clearly hear he was angry.

“I will leave you be more if you actually paid rent you know” Alhaitham still sounded stone cold. “And who are they even anyways?” he added.

They are my friend. And what does it matter to you anyways? it’s not like you ever bothered in someone else’ he said.

"Hm Perhaps. But you are right there is no benefit from knowing who they are. Anyways, I still want the rent. And you need to fix this door. It’s making that noise again.” Al Haitham told him.

I’m an architect. I draw, I don’t fix things like that. So you basically dragged me away for nothing? Kaveh felt he got angry because of this.

“oh well.. that’s a shame” Al Haitham told him while taking a book out to read. “also did you hear about 2 emrites missing?” he asked him.

No, what about it? Of course kaveh knew they were missing. He killed them after all for you.

“Their family is afraid they got killed by someone. And some speculations say they might have just fled to Liyue or something.” He simply answered. 

Oh okay. Well I guess I will keep an eye out for them then’ He lied to al haitham.

the following day - 

You were just walking around in Sumeru wondering what to do today. It was a nice day, slightly on the hot side so you didn’t feel like doing a lot. You were far lost in your own mind to really notice where exactly you were walking and whatever you might bump into, so you got quite the scare when you bumped into someone.

Ow, I’m sorry I should have looked where I’m Going’ You just said.

“You indeed should look around so you don’t make pitiless mistakes like this.” A stone cold voice you can recognize right away.

Oh Al Haitham, I’m really sorry’ you could feel your eyes heating up out of embarrassment. 

“oh you are the friend of kaveh right?” He asked you, sounding a little less.. Cold

Yeah I am hehe’ You felt quite awkward as of now. 

So what brings you here? You tried to have a neutral conversation with him. 

“Just enjoying the weather, It’s a great day to do absolutely nothing.” He answered simply, “would you like to join me on the walk? I will look out for you so you don’t bulldoze more people” he added. 

Ugh how dare he say something like that, it's so insulting, is what was going through your mind, you cannot obviously tell him what you thought. 

So instead you took him on the offer and had a little chat with him. He got to know a bit about you. Meanwhile you still didn’t know much about Al Haitham. Other than that he is a scribe at The Akademiya. 

And today again you felt like someone was staring at you, following you around. You couldn’t place where it came from or why you felt like it. 

But you could notice Al Haitham also felt like someone was watching the 2 of you.

[astrojamin]

Unfortunately I now deeply believe I need to takea 48 hour rest from listening to podcasts because I had a very convincing dream where I was kayne from malevolent and having a very fun time torturing arthur by dropping him into a universe where faroe had survived to adulthood and I'm assuming in this one he was either dead or absent considering she absolutely did not recognize him and went "who is this weird blind dude".

And it panned out to me in a body that was VERY much not mine with another person who's appearance was hazy sitting next to me, and a dog bear man person who was apparently very close to me because his head was in my lap and I was giving him scritches.

Dog bear man started laughing and asking me if I could help the man out some, as he already 'had most of the puzzle', and dog bear man who's name I don't know said he was rooting for him so much he'd even give me a few years of servitude for me to lend the man a hand.

Now THIS is where it gets super fucking weird and out of character which means my brain switched gears or something while maintaining visuals into a very weird mess. I was thinking, about how if he asked, I would help the man out. I would sabotage my own game because this man was giving me a lopsided grin and laughing with his head in my lap while I asked, and then it hurt, because i knew in a fee short years he would be elderly and infirm (exact thought process quote!!!) While I would be young forever if I wanted to.

I doubled down, still scratching under his chin and the top of his head, and shot him. While I was crying the third person put his soul in some kind of mirror and the dream started to flash back to the three of us running some heist on a mansion where we had gotten back the mirror, but my alarm went off before I could tell whether or not he wanted to be put in the mirror, or if it would have been something he hated. Both were equally likely

Now this is wildly out of character for kayne malevolent who I do not think would do any of the second half. I think the crying bit was just my brain Making Things Up however props to Mt subconscious for opening this random side plot with the torturing of John and Arthur. I guess. I woke up incredibly confused at five am and got up fir the day. It was very fun actually to drop ppl in Situations