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azsazz · 8 months ago

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Hide (Part 3)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,447

Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙

[Part One] [Part 2]

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You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.

Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.

This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.

Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.

You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same.

Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.

With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.

Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.

Get out of my court.

Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.

You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.

Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break.

The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.

Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before.

His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.

Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.

“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is.

You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.

You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand.

Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach.

Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts.

“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”

“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”

The silence that follows your words is scorching.

Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.

Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.

When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.

You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.”

Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.”

Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”

You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.

His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason.

“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night.

You can’t help but to think about your brother.

You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.

You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground.

“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”

You hope.

You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now.

Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.

It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating.

You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.

“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his.

He doesn’t like this anymore than you do.

Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.

When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood.

A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.

Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other.

The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—

Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”

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Hide taglist: @littlesw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @meritxellao @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @kennedy-brooke @melsunshine @starsinyoureyes @sleepylunarwolf @actuallykate777 @lilah-asteria @acourtofbatboydreams @misskennygirl

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #hide #eris angst

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taegimood · 4 months ago

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beomi has me tweakin lately so a slew of random thoughts:

first of all, beomgyu is fr the type to follow you into the bathroom after sex to sit in there w you while you pee 💀

bestfriend!perv!gyu who’s always shamelessly begging to let him finger you — “you know what they say about us guitar players 😏” “wtf gyu” “🫠” — and one day when you finally agree he’s just sat there like 👁️👄👁️ before quickly scrambling up to go sit at his desk and trim his nails until they’re perfectly short and won’t hurt you (you laugh at him but he ends up giving you the best fingering of your life) and the rest is history. from then on, it’s like a routine; watching a movie on the couch? beomgyu is there with his face buried between your legs. making something in the kitchen? he’s stood behind you with an arm around your front, knuckle-deep in your pussy. feeling tired and need to sit down? just sit on his face instead and kill 2 birds w one stone! <3

beomgyu who loves it messy, loves to eat your pussy like a starved man, wet and sloppy and shameless as he keeps his mischievous eyes locked on yours as you fall apart; loves holding you down on his face and using his hands on your ass to grind your dripping pussy all over his tongue, grinning up at you breathlessly when you have to literally pull his hair to hold his head away from you as you force him to come up for air. and gyu loooves when he gets you drooling all over his cock, deepthroating it until there’s strings of spit and cum dripping from your lips down his shaft, and when he fucks you he loves to cum on your tummy, your tits, your ass, your face, anywhere — if he’s feeling extra freaky, even cumming onto your pussy before diving down to eat you out with it 😩 nasty nasty boy..

also thinking abt bf!gyu with his injury lately, getting so tired and discouraged, you just wanna do all the work for him.. “just relax baby.. let me make you feel good, you deserve it.” riding him until he’s a whimpering mess, so subby as he lets go and allows you to take such good care of him <3

also sometimes tries to get away w being a brat and pulls the “you can’t be mean to me cuz i’m crippled 😇” card

all i’m saying is, yeonjun better be careful cuz beomgyu is out here wrecking my wrecker rn

#mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #txt smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #taegimood

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froggibus · 2 years ago

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The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding.

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something?

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little.

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro. He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball.

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks.

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him.

“C’mere,” he mumbles.

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact.

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him.

#resident evil angst #resident evil fluff #resident evil #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #x you #x reader

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nosyrobin · 2 months ago

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THE WHITE BAT

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

A/n: sorry if this was short, I’m tired! >.<

Summary: the aftermath of Damian’s injury forces the white knight to reveal themselves to the boy wonder. Helping him heal as his family goes to find him, only to see he has came home safely.

After closing the injury, Damian passed out along with the white knight that helped him. Since the white bat is in their safe haven, they fell asleep by the tan boy who couldn’t help but smile in their presence.

Waking up, Damian felt arms wrapped around him. Turning around, he’s face with a person in a white jacket, the hood over their face and a grey sweats. Damian felt his face heat up as he realized who the person was.

Damian immediately pushed away from the sleeping body that snored loudly. Damian felt his cheek rise along with the beats of his heart. He couldn’t fathom being by the person that saved him and the person who practically is his so called “partner in crime.” Along with being friends at least.

Damian tried to get up out of the bed only to wince. Hissing, he touched the spot where he hit shot. Frowning as he will most definitely get a scolding..no maybe even grounded for life and put on surveillance to not sneak out anymore. Like a prisoner.

Either way, he has his ways of breaking things into his hands. As he checked out the homemade stitches and bandaging, he failed to notice a certain person had sat up.

“Good mornin' Damian…” the voice said, making Damian turn around so quick he might’ve gave himself whip lash. Either way he looks at you in shock. “I….i appreciate your help on my wound..I am in your debt when you need me.”

The figure snickered, still looking down as they just patted the tan boy’s head. “Dude, relax. You don’t need to be all like that..” lifting their head up. You could easily see their face. Damian’s world seemed to stop as he couldn’t help but stare at their face. It was like a painting that was made to be stared at. It was perfection to him.

“I know you won’t tell my identity to anyone since I haven’t about yours..” you sat up straight, holding your hand out for a hand shake.

“I’m Y/N L/N…a teen that has mutant abilities of bats..along with powers.” They said, with pink glowing eyes meeting those sweet emeralds ones.

Time passed as Damian showed up to the manor, more like got dropped off by a giant bat that was his partner in crime. Damian smiled as he waved goodbye to the bat. Closing his window. It was quiet in the big mansion. A little too quiet as he walked around, even Alfred wasn’t in the kitchen which was strange.

Damian goes to the library, going to a certain shelf and going into a certain bat cave. That’s when he heard his father’s gruff voice speak out.

“Dick, Jason, you go to the latest spot Damian was for patrol while Tim and I go check—" Bruce stopped when the tracking said that Damian was here. In the manor, getting up from his chair. The boys and the big man turn to face a certain young boy who stood there with a confused face and clean clothes.

“Where have you been?!”

White bat!Reader tag: @minkyungseokie @amber-content @chibiduck

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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lila-lou · 4 months ago

Text

✨Obsessed - Pt. 3✨

Summary: After weeks of searching, you finally found Dean. However, he was no longer the man you had been in love with- but more importantly, no longer the man who never returned your love. Because now, in his twisted state, he was somehow obsessed with you.

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Hurt, Violence, Humiliation, naive reader

Word Count: 8412

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Dean’s eyes were completely blacked out as he looked at you, a twisted smile forming on his lips. “You can’t let this happen, sweetheart”, he purred, his voice low and seductive. “The old Dean won’t even look at you the same way. He won’t touch you, won’t fuck you as good as I do. You’ll be back to being just his little sister”.

Before you could respond, Sam stepped forward again, his face hard with determination, and sprinkled more holy water on Dean. Dean screamed in agony, the sound tearing through the bunker. But as soon as the effects wore off, Dean looked back at you, his smile even more sinister.

“The old Dean didn’t love you, and he never will”, he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “But what we have, that’s real, sweetheart”.

Your heart ached at the truth of his words. You had always feared that the real Dean didn’t feel the same way about you, but hearing it out loud, spoken with such cruelty, shattered you. Tears gathered in your eyes, the pain of his words cutting deeper than any physical injury ever could.

“When they turn me back”, Dean continued, his eyes boring into yours, “I’ll be fucking ashamed of touching you!”.

The tears began to fall freely now, your vision blurring as the full weight of his words hit you. You felt more heartbroken than ever. The final affirmation that Dean didn’t love you back then, while you were so deeply in love with him, made you feel stupid and naive.

“Y/N, don’t listen to him”, Sam said urgently, stepping closer. “He’s trying to manipulate you. The real Dean cares about you, and we need to get him back”.

Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam, his expression full of hatred. “Shut up, Sammy. She knows the truth now”.

You sobbed, feeling utterly broken. “Dean, please”, you whispered, your voice shaking. “Don’t do this”.

Ignoring your plea, Dean continued. “Face it, Y/N. When they turn me back, I’ll be disgusted by everything we did. I’ll push you away, and you’ll be left with nothing”.

Castiel stepped forward, his eyes filled with determination. “This ends now”, he said firmly, raising his hand to continue the exorcism ritual.

Minutes stretched and felt like days as the exorcism continued. Dean’s screams filled the air, but you held on to the hope that the real Dean was still in there, fighting to come back. Finally, with one last blinding flash of light and a gut-wrenching scream, Dean fell silent, slumping in his chains. The room was eerily quiet, the tension thick and suffocating.

Dean opened his eyes, now finally green again. It took a few seconds for him to register his surroundings, but as soon as his gaze landed on you, you felt a surge of emotion. Panic and heartbreak overwhelmed you, and you started tugging at your chains, desperately yelling at Sam.

“Sam, cut me loose! Please, let me go!”, you cried, tears streaming down your face. You were crying like you had never cried before, the raw pain and desperation evident in your voice.

Sam quickly nodded to Castiel, who moved swiftly to unchain you. The moment you were free, you didn’t waste a second. Before Dean could even say a word, you ran towards your room, ignoring the throbbing pain in your broken arm and the myriad of bruises and cuts that covered your body.

“Y/N, wait!”, Dean called after you, his voice weak and filled with anguish. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t face him, not after everything that had happened, not after the painful truths that had been laid bare.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you and collapsing onto the bed. The physical pain was almost a relief, a distraction from the emotional turmoil raging inside you. You curled up, hugging your broken arm to your chest, and let the sobs wrack your body.

The memories of the past weeks played in your mind like a relentless nightmare. Dean’s harsh words, the brutal reality of his feelings—or lack thereof—towards you, and the twisted connection you had shared while he was under the demon’s influence. It was all too much to bear.

Meanwhile, as you lay in your room, trying to process the torrent of emotions, Sam remained focused on ensuring that Dean was truly back to his old self. He watched his brother closely, searching his eyes for any lingering signs of the demon.

“Dean”, Sam said cautiously, “is it really you?”.

Dean nodded weakly, his green eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. “Yeah, Sammy. It’s me”.

Sam took a deep breath, relief washing over him. He moved forward and began to unchain Dean, working quickly but carefully. As soon as the last chain fell away, the two brothers embraced tightly, both of them clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it.

Sam held on, feeling the weight of the past weeks lift slightly off his shoulders, and Dean buried his face in Sam’s shoulder, drawing strength from his brother’s unwavering support.

“I need to talk to Y/N”, Dean mumbled into Sam’s shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. The guilt and urgency were evident in his tone, and Sam pulled back slightly, nodding in understanding.

“I know”, Sam replied gently. “But take it slow, Dean”.

Dean nodded, his eyes reflecting the pain and regret he felt. “I know, Sammy. I just… I need to make things right”.

Sam placed a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze.

With a final nod, Dean turned and made his way towards your room, his heart pounding in his chest. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the knowledge of what he had put you through and the fear of how you would react to him now.

He paused outside your door, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking softly. “Y/N?”, he called, his voice trembling slightly. “It’s me. Can I come in?”.

Inside, you lay on the bed, still trying to process everything. The sound of his voice sent a shiver through you, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t want to speak to him, see him, or even hear him. The pain was too fresh, too raw.

“Y/N?”, Dean called again, his voice more desperate. “Please, let me in. We need to talk”.

Still, you remained silent, your heart aching with the weight of everything that had happened. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, not yet.

Dean pressed his forehead against the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I know I messed up”, he said, his voice breaking. “I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I need to make things right. Please, Y/N. Just give me a chance to explain”.

You swallowed hard, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilling over. Despite everything, part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand what had happened and why. But the fear of more pain held you back.

“Y/N, please”, Dean pleaded. “I can’t do this without you. I need to know you’re okay”.

Dean hesitated.

“I know you don’t want to see me right now”, he said softly. “And I don’t blame you. But I need you to know that everything I said and did… it wasn’t me. It was the demon. The real me would never hurt you like that”.

And that was kind of the problem. The real him didn’t love you, didn’t want to be with you. Sure, the demon also didn’t love you—not in any conventional way—but that version of him wanted to be with you. It made you feel seen and wanted, even if it was twisted and wrong. The real Dean, though, saw you as a sister, a friend, and nothing more.

Dean sighed heavily, sensing your turmoil even through the closed door. “Just… just come talk to me when you’re ready”, he said, his voice filled with resignation. “I’ll be here”.

With that, he finally left. You heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and the silence that followed was deafening. You curled up tighter on the bed, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Your mind raced, torn between the memories of the past few weeks and the reality of the situation. The demon’s version of Dean had been violent, possessive, and cruel, but he had also given you a twisted sense of intimacy you had craved. The real Dean, now free from the demon’s influence, represented safety and the brotherly love you had known for so long—but not the romantic love you yearned for.

You knew you couldn’t avoid Dean forever. At some point, you would have to face him, confront the pain, and decide what you wanted for your future. But for now, you needed time. Time to heal, to process, and to understand your own heart.

It had been two days since you had locked yourself in your room, refusing to come out or talk to anyone. Cas and Sam had both tried to reach out, knocking on your door and speaking softly through the wood, but you remained silent. You were hurt, ashamed, and mostly mad at yourself for being so naive. You should have known better.

Each morning was the same. First, Dean would knock and try to talk to you, his voice filled with regret and desperation. Then, Sam and Cas would take turns, offering their support and urging you to come out. But you couldn’t face them, couldn’t face yourself.

In the kitchen, Sam was making breakfast, the smell of eggs filling the room. Dean and Cas sat at the table, the tension heavy in the air. Dean’s face was buried in his hands, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his guilt.

Sam glanced at his brother as he turned the eggs, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “Wanna finally share what you did to her?”, he asked, his voice calm but insistent. Sam had a feeling about what had happened, but he needed to hear Dean say it.

Dean hesitated, his breath hitching as he prepared to speak. “I made her my girlfriend… in some twisted way”, he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam paused, his hands stilling over the pan. The reality of Dean’s words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. “How far did you go with her?”, Sam asked, his voice low and controlled, though the tension was palpable.

Dean’s head dropped lower, his silence speaking volumes. “I… we… I went all the way, Sam”, he whispered, the shame in his voice palpable.

Sam’s mouth parted before he spoke. “You did… you took her…”, Sam didn’t need to finish his sentence. The horror in his voice was clear enough.

Dean rose abruptly, his emotions boiling over. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the table and smashed it against the wall, shards of glass scattering everywhere. Without a word, he stormed out of the kitchen, heading straight for his room. The door slammed shut with a force that echoed through the bunker.

In his room, Dean collapsed onto his bed, his head in his hands. He hated himself more than he ever thought possible. He had taken your virginity in the worst way imaginable, without care or consideration. He knew how important it had always been for you, how you had waited so long for the perfect experience. And he had ruined it.

As he sat there, replaying the events in his mind, the guilt and shame weighed heavily on his heart. He could still hear your voice, see the hurt in your eyes. The demon had twisted his desires, but he couldn’t escape the fact that he had been the one to act on them.

Back in the kitchen, Sam stood in stunned silence, his hands gripping the counter. He exchanged a look with Castiel, who had been watching the scene unfold with a deep frown.

At night on day three, the gnawing hunger in your stomach became unbearable. You had managed to avoid everyone for days, but your body’s needs could no longer be ignored. You quietly slipped out of your room, hoping no one would hear you as you made your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the silence. You moved quickly, grabbing bread and cheese to make yourself a sandwich. As you worked, the familiar smells of the kitchen hit you, and you couldn’t help but think of Dean. Everything in the bunker reminded you of him, and it made your heart ache.

You ate the sandwich standing in the kitchen, each bite a mix of relief and sorrow. The room smelled like Dean, a mixture of leather, whiskey, and something uniquely him. Your eyes dropped to your broken arm, wrapped tightly to manage the pain. Even though you should be happy that Dean was saved, you couldn’t shake the twisted longing for what you had, no matter how sick it was. The intensity, the possessiveness—it had become your world, and now it felt like a part of you was missing.

As you finished your sandwich, the door to the kitchen creaked open. You froze, hoping it wasn’t Dean. But when you looked up, you saw Sam standing there, his eyes filled with concern.

“Y/N”, he said softly, not wanting to startle you. “I’m glad you’re eating”.

You nodded, swallowing the last bite. “I was starving”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam walked over, leaning against the counter next to you. “We’ve all been worried about you”, he said gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone”.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away with your good hand. “I just… I needed time”, you said, your voice trembling. “It’s all so messed up, Sam”.

“I know”, he replied, his voice filled with empathy. “And we’re here for you, whenever you’re ready to talk”.

You nodded, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “It’s hard”, you admitted. “I should be happy that Dean is back, but… I miss what we had, no matter how wrong it was”.

Sam sighed, looking down at his hands. “I can’t pretend to understand everything you’re feeling”, he said honestly. “But I do know that you’re strong, and you’ll get through this. And Dean—he’s beating himself up over what happened. He wants to make things right”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t know if things can ever be right”, you whispered. “But I guess we have to try”.

Sam nodded, offering a small, reassuring smile. “One step at a time”, he said. “And you don’t have to take those steps alone”.

“Thank you, Sam”.

“Anytime”, he replied.

You lay in your bed, talking to yourself and staring at the ceiling, the weight of the conversation with Sam heavy on your mind. Despite your best efforts, exhaustion eventually pulled you into a fitful sleep. Unknown to you, in your weariness, you had forgotten to lock the door.

Dean, unable to sleep in his room next door, had heard everything. Every whispered word, every tearful confession. The guilt and self-loathing kept him awake, gnawing at him relentlessly. When he heard you not lock your door, an overwhelming need to see you, to somehow make amends, drove him to your room.

Quietly, he opened the door and slipped inside, his footsteps almost silent on the floor. He stood there, looking down at your sleeping form. Just days ago, he had you all to himself. You were vulnerable beneath him, and he had taken whatever he wanted from you, feeding his dark desires.

Now, seeing you like this—broken, hurting, yet still so undeniably strong—brought a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him. He knelt beside your bed, his eyes tracing the bruises and cuts that marred your skin. Each mark was a testament to his failure, a visible reminder of the harm he had caused.

“Y/N”, he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry”.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, but didn’t wake. Dean reached out, his hand hovering just above yours, aching to touch you but afraid of causing more pain. He clenched his fist, pulling back and instead sat down on the floor beside your bed, his back against the wall.

Dean sat there, feeling helpless and torn, as the memories of his actions replayed in his mind. When you finally stirred, you noticed him and flinched, not expecting to see him there. Your eyes widened and before you could speak, he whispered again, “I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I had to see you”.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to create a barrier between you and him. “Dean, you shouldn’t be here”, you said, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes filled with regret. “I know. I just… I needed to see you, to make sure you’re okay”.

“I’m not okay”, you replied, your voice cracking. “How could I be after everything?”.

Dean’s face contorted with pain, his guilt almost palpable. “I know I hurt you in ways that can never be undone. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could erase everything I did”.

His words hurt you more than anything. While he thought they might somehow ease your pain, they only made it worse. Because that was exactly the problem. You didn’t regret all of those things. After all, you loved him. You loved being with him in that intimate way, even when it wasn’t how you imagined, even when he was cold. But being kissed by him, being touched by him, hearing him say that you were his and no one else could have you—those moments were everything you had ever wanted.

You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “Dean, what hurts the most… is that I don´t regret it”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know it was wrong, and I know it wasn’t really you, but… I loved being with you like that. Even if it was twisted”.

Dean’s eyes widened, shock and confusion mingling with his guilt. “Y/N, you don’t mean that. What I did to you was… it was monstrous. You deserve so much better”.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t care about better. I care about you. I always have. And even though it was painful and wrong, it was the closest I’ve ever been to you. I felt like I finally had you, even if it was only in the worst way”.

Dean’s expression softened, and he reached out, hesitating before placing a gentle hand on your blanket-covered leg. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the closeness you had shared. More tears fell down your cheeks, your heart aching with the weight of your unspoken question.

“Why can’t you love me, Dean?”, you finally sobbed, the words spilling out in a desperate, heartbreaking plea. “Why can’t you love me like I love you?”.

Dean’s heart broke hearing those words and seeing your tears. He felt a deep, painful twist in his chest, but he knew he couldn’t change how he felt. His expression was filled with sorrow as he prepared to give you the most honest answer he could.

“Y/N”, he began, his voice trembling. “I do love you. I love you more than you can imagine. You’re so important to me. You’ve always been a part of my life, someone I could count on, someone I could trust with everything”.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with hope and desperation. But Dean shook his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “But it’s not the same way you love me. It’s not the way you want it to be. I love you like a sister, like family. I care about you deeply, but I can’t change the way I feel”.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The hope that had flickered within you was snuffed out, replaced by a crushing wave of despair. More tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to process what he was saying.

Dean reached out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For taking your virginity, for all the bruises, and the broken arm. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was supposed to protect you, not hurt you".

But your mind was already far gone, retreating into a numb haze to escape the unbearable pain. You stared blankly at the wall, your vision blurred by tears. You couldn't hear Dean's words anymore, couldn't process the apologies that tumbled from his lips one after another. It was as if a barrier had gone up between you, blocking out everything but the overwhelming ache in your heart.

Dean's voice broke with emotion as he continued, his hand still gently holding yours. "I can't undo what I've done, but I want to make it right. I want to help you heal, to be there for you in any way I can. Please, Y/N, just tell me what I can do".

But you couldn't respond. Your mind was a storm of confusion and hurt, the weight of your unrequited love crushing you from the inside out. The room seemed to close in around you, the air thick and suffocating. All you could think about was the loss, the betrayal, and the realization that the one person you had always counted on, the one person you had loved more than anything, could never return your feelings in the way you desperately wanted.

Dean watched you, his heart breaking all over again as he saw the distant look in your eyes. He wanted to reach you, to pull you back from the edge of despair, but he felt helpless, unable to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

"Y/N, please", he whispered, his voice trembling. "I know I've hurt you more than anyone else ever could. But I need you to know that you matter to me. That you always will".

You blinked, the sound of his voice barely registering. You felt so detached, so removed from the moment, that his words seemed to come from a great distance. All you could manage was a small, almost imperceptible nod, more out of reflex than understanding.

Dean sighed deeply, squeezing your hand one last time before letting go. He stood up, his movements slow and heavy, as if the weight of his guilt was physically dragging him down. He took one last look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I'll be here if you need me", he said quietly, before turning and walking out of the room.

Before you met Dean and Sam, you were always on the run, hunting all kinds of monsters and never settling down for longer than a week. Now, with your heart shattered by Dean’s words, you desperately wished you had never met him. Since that was impossible, you made a decision that came close to erasing him from your life.

As you heard Dean’s door close after he left your room, you stood up and began packing two bags. With your broken arm, it was a slow and painful process, but you managed to gather everything important, along with enough clothes to last a while. Each item you packed felt like a piece of your heart being tucked away, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

Once your bags were loaded into your car, you made your way to the control room. The familiar surroundings felt bittersweet, each corner holding memories of your time with the Winchesters. You slowly placed a little note on the map table, looking around one last time before leaving.

The note simply read: “Thanks for the stay. Maybe we’ll meet again on a hunt. Take care”.

With a heavy heart, you left the bunker, the door closing behind you with a finality that echoed in the silence. The drive away from the place that had been your home for so long was filled with tears and silent sobs. You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you had to get far away, to start anew.

The next morning, Sam woke up before Dean, unaware of the events that had transpired the night before. He moved through the bunker quietly, trying not to wake his brother. The familiar routine of making breakfast and brewing coffee brought a sense of normalcy to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

As he made his way to the control room, he noticed the note you had left on the map table. His heart sank as he read it, the realization of your departure hitting him hard. He sighed deeply, the weight of your absence settling heavily on his shoulders.

Dean eventually shuffled into the control room, looking exhausted and defeated. His eyes were bloodshot, and it was clear he hadn’t slept much, if at all. He glanced at Sam, then at the note in his brother’s hand, and his expression darkened.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”, Dean muttered, his voice hoarse.

Sam nodded, holding out the note for Dean to see. “Yeah, she left this. Didn’t hear a thing last night. Guess she wanted to get out without a fuss”.

Dean took the note and read it, his jaw clenching with regret and pain.

He threw the note back on the table, letting himself sink into a chair and covering his face with his hands. For Dean, family was the most important thing in the world, and after spending years together, you had become part of that family. The realization that he had pushed you away, that his actions had driven you to leave, weighed heavily on his heart.

“Dammit”, Dean muttered through his hands, his voice thick with emotion. “I pushed her away, Sammy. I pushed her right out of our lives”.

Sam placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dean, we’ll find her, but she needs time. We need to give her that”.

Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination as he looked up at Sam. “I have to make this right. She doesn’t deserve to be out there alone, thinking I don’t care about her”.

Sam nodded, knowing how much this weighed on his brother. “We’ll find her, Dean. We’ll bring her back”.

But despite their best efforts, it didn’t work out like Dean had hoped. Over the next six months, there wasn’t a single trace of you. You had vanished without a hint of where you might have gone. No one had seen you, no one had heard from you. Not a whisper from hunters, demons, or angels. It was as if you had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Each lead they followed turned into a dead end. Every call, every piece of information led them nowhere. Dean’s frustration grew with each passing day, his guilt and fear gnawing at him. He had failed to protect you, failed to keep you safe. And by now, he was convinced you were dead.

But even that conviction couldn’t stop him from looking. Dean continued to search, driven by a relentless need to find you, to know what had happened. He traveled from town to town, questioning anyone who might have seen a glimpse of you. His nights were filled with restless dreams, haunted by the memory of your face and the knowledge that he had driven you away.

Sam watched his brother with growing concern. Dean was becoming more withdrawn, more obsessed with finding you. It was taking a toll on him, physically and emotionally. But Sam knew better than to try to make Dean stop. He understood that this was something Dean had to do, even if it was tearing him apart.

One evening, after another fruitless search, Dean sat at the bar of a rundown dive, nursing a whiskey. His mind was a whirl of memories and regrets. He replayed every moment, every word, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. The ache in his chest was constant, a reminder of the void your absence had left.

Sam entered the bar and took a seat next to Dean. “Any luck?”, he asked, already knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head, his eyes hollow. “No. It’s like she vanished into thin air”.

Sam sighed, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll keep looking, Dean. We won’t give up”.

Dean took a deep breath, nodding. “I know. I just… I just wish I could tell her I’m sorry”.

Sam squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll find her, Dean. And when we do, you’ll get that chance”.

Dean stared into his glass, the amber liquid reflecting the dim light of the bar. “I hope so, Sammy. I really hope so”.

As they sat there, the weight of the past six months pressed down on them both. The search for you had become a part of their lives, a quest driven by love, guilt, and a desperate need for redemption. And no matter how long it took, Dean knew he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

Unknown to Dean and Sam, you had stopped hunting three months ago. It was a decision you never thought you’d make, but circumstances had changed dramatically. As you noticed your weight gain and your growing stomach, it dawned on you that you hadn’t had your period in a long time. The realization hit you hard: you were pregnant. And a pregnant hunter wasn’t exactly a feasible scenario.

Now, you were in your seventh month, and your baby bump was noticeable, though smaller than what most women had at this stage. Your doctor assured you that both you and the baby were healthy, which was a small comfort in the midst of your emotional turmoil. When you first found out, it felt like your heart had been ripped out all over again. You had just been on a path to forgetting about Dean, trying to move on, but the fact of being pregnant—carrying his child—ripped open all those wounds anew.

The past months had been a roller coaster of emotions. You had rented a small apartment in a quiet town, far from any hunting grounds. Well, so you thought. You needed a safe place to bring your baby into the world, somewhere you could try to build a new life. Every day was a battle between hope and heartache. You loved the baby growing inside you, but it was a constant reminder of Dean, of what you had lost and the life you could never have.

One quiet evening, you sat on the couch, your hand gently resting on your baby bump. The baby kicked softly, and you smiled despite the tears that formed in your eyes. You had started talking to your baby, telling them stories of your past, hoping to forge a bond despite the pain.

“Your dad… he’s a good man”, you whispered. “He’s strong and brave. And he would love you so much if he knew”.

The thought of Dean never knowing about his child was a heavy burden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him again, to bring that pain back into your life. You had to be strong for your baby, to build a new life, even if it meant doing it alone.

Meanwhile, Dean and Sam continued their search, unaware of the new life growing inside you. Dean’s guilt and desperation only grew with each passing day. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that you needed him. But all his efforts to find you were in vain.

As you settled into your bed, the baby kicking wildly, you groaned softly at the discomfort. Tomorrow was another appointment to discuss your birth plan, and it felt surreal how quickly time had passed. You hadn’t even set up the baby’s room yet; all you had was a single pacifier with a black car on it that looked like Dean’s Impala. It was a small, bittersweet reminder of him, a piece of the life you had left behind.

You ran your hand over your belly, trying to soothe the baby and yourself. “We’ll get everything ready soon”, you whispered. “I promise. We’ll make it work, just the two of us”.

The baby’s kicks slowed, and you found a little comfort in the routine of talking to your unborn child. You closed your eyes, hoping for a good night’s sleep, despite the worries and heartache that constantly weighed on your mind.

Meanwhile, back at the bunker, Dean and Sam were growing more desperate with each passing day. The lack of any leads or clues to your whereabouts was taking its toll on both of them. Dean’s guilt gnawed at him constantly, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

One evening, as Dean sat alone in the library, he stared at a map spread out on the table. Pins and notes marked places they had searched, but it felt like looking for a needle in a haystack. Sam walked in, carrying two cups of coffee, and placed one in front of Dean.

“Dean”, Sam started quietly, sitting down across from him. “Maybe she just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe we need to stop looking”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving the map. “I can’t stop, Sam. I can’t just give up on her”.

Sam sighed, his own heart heavy with worry. “It’s been months, Dean. We’ve turned over every stone, followed every lead. What if she just needs space? What if our searching is just making things worse for her?”.

Dean clenched his fists, the familiar clench in his heart tightening. It was a week after you’d been gone that he started to feel something different, a strange, painful longing whenever he thought about you. It was a clench that was different from guilt and remorse. It felt like heartache and, if he didn’t know better, love. But he could never admit it to himself. He blamed it all on his guilt.

“I can’t stop”, Dean repeated, his voice rough. “I need to know she’s okay. I need to make things right”.

Sam reached across the table, placing a hand on his brother’s arm. “We all want that, Dean. But we also need to respect her wishes. Maybe it’s time we trust that she’s safe and that she’ll reach out when she’s ready”.

Dean’s eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, his heart warring with his mind. “I just… I can’t lose her, Sammy. Not like this”.

The next morning, you woke early, feeling the familiar mix of excitement and nervousness about your appointment. You took your time getting ready, making sure to dress comfortably and pack a small bag with essentials. As you prepared to leave, you glanced at the pacifier with the car design and tucked it into your bag, needing the small comfort it provided.

At the doctor’s office, you went through the usual routine of checks and questions. Your doctor was kind and reassuring, which helped ease some of your anxiety.

“So, have you thought about how you’d like to give birth?”, the doctor asked, her voice gentle.

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I’m not sure yet. I want what’s safest for the baby. I’ve been considering both natural birth and a C-section, but I don’t know what’s best”.

The doctor nodded understandingly. “That’s perfectly normal. We can discuss the pros and cons of both, and you can take your time to decide. The most important thing is that you and the baby are healthy”.

You felt a bit more at ease as the doctor explained everything in detail, giving you a better understanding of your options. By the end of the appointment, you felt more prepared and had a clearer idea of what you wanted.

Dean groaned as he and Sam walked into a diner in a small town somewhere in the middle of Montana. Sam had convinced Dean to take on more usual cases, even though they never stopped looking for you. Dean was tired—he had driven all night, and when they arrived in town, the first thing they did wasn’t sleep, but play their FBI roles and interview witnesses. They had just finished and wanted to grab a quick bite before heading to the motel to get some rest.

They settled down and ordered their food. Not even minutes later, you walked inside, though they could only see your back. Dean was clearly checking out your ass, not knowing it was you. This was your favorite diner in town, and you were here practically every day. You sat down at your usual spot, still with your back turned to Dean and Sam.

Sam noticed Dean’s gaze and followed it. Dean looked beyond tired and exhausted, but now there was something else in his eyes—an appreciative interest. Before Sam could say anything, Dean held up his hand, grumbling, “It’s been months, and that ass is worth starving for”, pointing toward you.

Sam rolled his eyes but said nothing, his own fatigue evident. As they waited for their food, Dean continued to watch you, his gaze lingering. There was something familiar about you, something that tugged at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it.

As you settled into your usual spot, you noticed the diner was a bit busier than usual. You took out a small notepad and started jotting down some thoughts, your mind preoccupied with the upcoming birth and the new life you were about to begin. You didn’t notice the two men at the corner table watching you.

Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew you from somewhere. “Hey, Sam”, he muttered, still staring at you. “Does she look familiar to you?”.

Sam glanced at you again, then back at Dean. “Dean, you’ve been checking out every woman we pass for months. You probably just think she’s familiar because she fits your type”.

Dean frowned but didn’t argue. He took a sip of his coffee, trying to focus on something else, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. There was a nagging feeling in his chest, something he couldn’t ignore.

Just then, the waitress brought their food, and Dean reluctantly turned his attention to the meal in front of him.

Meanwhile, you were munching on some fries while jotting down everything you needed for the baby. You had just turned 21, and since you didn’t grow up in a normal household, everything about impending motherhood was pretty overwhelming. You had to gather all the information about motherhood by yourself, but still, you managed.

Across the diner, Dean and Sam were finishing their meal. Dean, ever the flirt, quickly checked his hair in the reflection of Sam’s laptop, making sure he looked presentable. Sam rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Dean was about to try and charm his way into your good graces, thinking you were just another pretty face he could win over. He usually succeeded, so Sam didn’t bother to stop him.

Dean approached you from behind, a confident smile playing on his lips. “Excuse me”, he began with the cheesiest pick-up line he could muster, “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”.

You turned slightly, ready to brush off the unwanted attention, when Dean finally caught a glimpse of your face. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock. His face turned white, and he froze, unable to process what he was seeing.

“Y/N?”, he breathed, his voice barely audible.

You stared back at him, equally stunned. The moment felt surreal, as if time had stopped. You could see the myriad of emotions flickering across his face—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something that looked like regret.

Sam, noticing the sudden change in Dean’s demeanor, quickly stood up and joined him. When he saw you, his eyes widened in disbelief. “Y/N?”, he echoed, glancing between you and Dean.

You quickly closed your jacket and turned the paper over, hoping neither of them had seen anything. Clearing your throat, you mumbled a small, “Hi”, trying your best to avoid looking at Dean and focusing more on Sam.

Sam took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern. “Y/N, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for months”.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the emotions swirling inside made it difficult. “I needed time”, you replied quietly. “Time to figure things out”.

Dean, still grappling with the shock, felt that familiar clench in his heart again. He wanted to say so much, to apologize, to ask why you left, but the words were stuck in his throat. Instead, he took a step forward, his eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N”, he began, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and regret. “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you let us help?”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Dean, it’s not that simple. After everything that happened, I needed to be on my own. I needed to process things by myself”.

You started to pack your things into your bag, ready to leave them behind once more. Your movements were quick, almost frantic, as if you could outrun the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. But before you could zip up your bag, Sam reached out, his hand gently grasping your arm.

“Y/N, just stop for a second”, he urged, his voice soft but insistent. “We’re family. Dean and I, we don’t want to lose you again”.

You paused, your eyes meeting Sam’s, seeing the sincerity and concern etched on his face. “Family?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “After everything that’s happened?”.

Sam nodded, glancing at Dean who was watching you with a pained expression. “Yes, family. And families go through rough patches, but we stick together. We want to be here for you”.

You whispered, your voice barely audible, “I’m done with that life. I can’t hunt anymore. I… I just want a normal life”.

Dean was still too overwhelmed by all his feelings to look anywhere else but your eyes, searching for any sign of hope. Sam, however, noticed the slight bulge underneath your jacket, his eyes widening in realization.

“Y/N”, Sam began cautiously, his voice softening even more, “are you…”.

But before he could finish, you saw where his gaze had landed. Panic surged through you, and you stood up abruptly, grabbing your stuff. Without looking back, you walked with quick steps towards the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Y/N, wait!”, Dean called after you, his voice filled with desperation.

You didn’t stop, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty. The diner’s door chimed as you pushed through it.

Dean and Sam followed you outside, their footsteps echoing in the quiet street. “Y/N, please, just listen!”, Dean shouted, his voice cracking.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face them, tears streaming down your face. “What do you want from me?”, you cried, your voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. “I just want to be left alone”.

Dean reached out to you, his hand trembling, but Sam held his wrist gently, stopping him.“Y/N, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”, Sam said softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You tugged your jacket tighter around you, looking down at the ground through your tears, unable to answer. The silence hung heavy between you, the truth of your situation palpable.

Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes wide with shock and realization. Sam’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly, a silent support between brothers.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, filled with unspoken words and emotions. You felt the weight of their gazes, the mixture of concern, guilt, and helplessness in their eyes.

Finally, Dean found his voice, though it was strained and quiet. “Y/N… I…”. He trailed off, not knowing how to begin to address the pain and turmoil between you all.

Sam stepped forward, his tone gentle and reassuring. “Y/N, we’re here for you. Whatever you need, whatever you decide… we just want you to know you’re not alone”. You were only 21 and the thought of having to care for a newborn worried Sam greatly.

You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, still avoiding their eyes. “It’s none of your business”, you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

Sam shook his head, stepping closer. “Y/N, you’re family. Of course, it’s our business. We care about you, and we want to help”.

Dean remained silent, his face pale as he stood there, counting the months in his head. His mind raced with the realization that he might be the father. The weight of this possibility settled heavily on his shoulders, making it difficult to find the right words.

He hesitated before finally looking at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear, hope, and regret. “Y/N”, he began, his voice trembling slightly. “Is… is it mine?”.

You felt a fresh wave of emotion wash over you at his question. The pain, confusion, and love you had for him all mixed together in a tumultuous storm. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding.

But the words wouldn’t come. You just nodded, more tears spilling from your eyes. Dean rubbed his palm over his mouth as he saw your nod, his own eyes filling with unshed tears, unable to speak. Sam’s eyebrows raised as he took a deep breath at your admission.

You mumbled to Dean, your voice laced with bitterness, “You don’t have to do anything. The baby and I will be fine on our own”.

You turned to go, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. But before you could take more than a few steps, Dean reached out, his voice filled with desperation. “Y/N, just-.. damn it, just wait!”.

You paused but didn’t turn around. Dean took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I know I’ve messed up. More than you can ever forgive me for. But please, let me be a part of this. I want to help. I want to be there for you and our baby”.

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with empathy. “We’re family, Y/N. We want to support you".

You shook your head, still crying, then looked Dean in the eyes. “I don’t want you to be a part of it”, you said, your voice filled with a mix of pain and resolve.

Dean’s face fell, the weight of your words hitting him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Sam looked between the two of you, his heart aching for both his brother and for you.

You turned and walked away, your steps determined even though your heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Dean watched you go, feeling a profound sense of loss and helplessness. He had always prided himself on being able to protect and take care of the people he loved, but now he felt utterly powerless.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. “Give her time, Dean”.

Dean looked after you, watching you walk away, taking his baby with you. The reality of it all hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes followed you until you were out of sight, and he rubbed harshly over his face, unable to control his emotions. The frustration, anger, and helplessness boiled over, and he kicked the nearest trash can with such force that it flew across the ground, clattering loudly.

Sam winced at the sound but didn’t try to stop him. He knew his brother needed to vent his emotions somehow, and this was Dean’s way of coping. Dean’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to hold back the tears.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be, Sam”, Dean said, his voice breaking. “I was supposed to protect her, to be there for her. Now she’s out there, alone, carrying my child, and she doesn’t want me to be a part of it”.

Sam stepped closer, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder. “We can’t change the past, Dean. But we can be here for her when she’s ready. You’ve got to give her time and space. She’s been through so much”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 4

Taglist: @spnfamily-j2 @kr804573 @kylersgirlfriend34 @spncupcake @woooonau @winchesterwild78 @anacarolinadasf @suckitands33 @thesilmarillionblog @supernaturallyedsheeran @pizzagirlxnsfwx @riah1606 @hobby27 @lickmybalws @whimsyfinny

#jensen ackles #deanwinchtser #dean x reader #dean x you #sam and dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #supernatural

189 notes · View notes

tinietaehyun · 3 months ago

Text

Join Me, Won’t You?

[MarchHare!Hueningkai x Lost!Reader] [One-Shot] [Wondrous Tales Series]

Pairing: MarchHare!Hueningkai x Lost!reader

Genre(s): Fantasy, dark fantasy, supernatural, dark romance, action.

Contains: Profanity, manipulation, coercion, mentions/implications of death or injury, sedation, binding, possessive behaviour, suggestive themes, dialogue-heavy.

Links: Masterlist || Wondrous Tales Masterlist

Note: Thanks for the patient wait! <3

Summary: Gasping and panting raggedly for breath, you seemed to have done good by sliding down the fluorescent tunnel as a last resort! The King’s guards almost caught you!

What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seemed secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

“Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

You had a feeling you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to.

Coughing and spluttering as you clamber through the tunnel like your life depends on it, you finally spot a halo of light towards the surface. With a rush of adrenaline surging through your veins, you make your way upwards and heave yourself above just as you hear the final chunks of soil crumble and fall sealing off the burrow.

Fuck. You sit on the fluffy purple grass panting heavily as though you had run a marathon. Sweat drips down your forehead to which you wipe off with your arm and you grimace feeling your lungs burn and legs ache; you look at your arms and legs seeing the scratches and dirt.

That was terrifying! You almost got buried alive! After a few minutes, you compose yourself and stand up wearily attempting to make sense of your new wacky surroundings. Muttering, you begin to walk around, “The fuck am I going to get into this time?”

Your eyes are drawn to a bright yellow arrow on a sign board. Several actually, of numerous colours all pointing in one direction. You gaze below seeing haphazardly hanging bunting and old party decorations which seemed to be decaying into the ground. Broken tea cups, paper plates, napkins.

Goodness… A shudder goes through you. Surely…you hadn’t truly ended up at the Hatter, did you? You wanted to avoid that madman at all costs from what you heard about him!

You eye the arrows again, it was perhaps best to never follow them, after all in Wonderland, nothing is as it seems. You peer at the bright pink bushes and grimace, maybe you could stray off the path a little. Pushing through the bushes, you begin to make your own way through this new space.

You weren’t exactly sure if this was a good idea or whether you were just getting yourself even more lost. But anything was better than Yeonjun! What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? After a few minutes, your eyes widen seeing an opening in the foliage and you push your way through with a glimmer of hope. You once again spot the sun stuck in the same spot in the sky, painting the opening with an oddly comforting golden hue.

Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seems to be secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

You regard a mossy boulder beside a broken sign which seems to read “This Way!” Your heart drops. Another sign? Even though you strayed off the path…? This place was horrid!

Your legs were beginning to hurt even more; just a little break, that’s all you wanted. You decide to settle on the boulder with an exasperated sigh; your hand rests on your forehead as you pitifully attempt to relax in the godforsaken place.

After a mere moment of silence, a bright voice destroys your peace, “Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh, you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

Regarding him with a blank gaze, you remain silent and stiff. He tilts his head before letting out a cackle which startles you. His eyes…they twinkle with mischief, his wide smile. His umber hair sprawls haphazardly over his forehead, sharp, chiseled features which had your heart fluttering. A red diamond on his left cheekbone catches your eye. His jawline dangerously sharp with thin lips that always seemed to be in a permanent coy smile. Who was he?

The vibrant grass bristles as he takes a large step forward. You note his formal attire, indeed suitable for a tea party. A white satin shirt and beige waistcoat with brown rabbit ears embroidered below one of the breast pockets. A rabbit? Another one? A small black iron key, tiny in fact, hangs like a charm on his necklace.

The mysterious man seems to enjoy your expression of confusion as you regard him intently as he grins, “Does my appearance, please you so, precious?” He skips on over and your eyes widen as he brazenly looks you over, walking around you and observing you from all angles as if you were some museum exhibit.

“Mm,” he hums, intrigued and your breath hitches as his gloved hand grips your chin tilting it up. Goodness, he was comically tall, even from where you were sitting or were you just incredibly short? You stand up instinctively and grimace, seeing his towering height.

The male smirks, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as his eyes gleam flirtatiously, “Hm, well, aren’t you a pretty thing? A sight for sore eyes even, the last one was so dreary to look at, you know? I’m glad there’s still pretty ones like you that still stumble in here.”

You pry his hand off, shoving it away with a glare, “Who are you and what do you want?” A blatantly loud cackle escapes his lips and his eyes widen manically, “Oh come on! It’s always the same question with you guests! Lighten up! Why always think so pessimistically, precious?”

Snapping, you respond, “Oh I don’t know, maybe getting hunted down by the King of Hearts? Seeing someone innocent get dragged away to be beheaded? Not knowing any way out of this deranged place?”

He goes momentarily silent placing an almost sympathetic hand on your shoulder, leaning down with a frown and you wearily lean back before he startles you with a loud guffaw. You turn around with a grumbling mutter; you weren’t going to waste your time.

A yelp escapes you as a hand grips your shoulder and abruptly spins you around. You crash into a firm chest, your nostrils filled with sweet scent, hints of ginger, peppermint, maybe caramel?

You tilt your head upwards to see him with a bright smile unfazed by your attitude. His fingers slide down your arm before interlocking with yours, “Oh precious, don’t be like that. It hurts my delicate feelings, you know? Don’t tell me you plan to leave without attending my tea party.”

He sighs dramatically, “It’s been ages since I’ve had anyone but the Hatter attend my tea party and the Mice of course. I think even once the Caterpillar did, only once. He didn’t really like the pranks I played, but that’s besides the point.”

Before you could respond to the barrage of words that made absolutely no sense to you, he interrupts with wide eyes and a gasp, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him.

“Hey-!“ you struggle helplessly, your feet skidding and stumbling in the grass. His grip is unforgivably tight and he seems to overpower you with ease as he resumes, “How so, so, so, rude of me! I never even introduced myself to you precious, goodness it’s been so long since I’ve entertained a guest, I’ve apparently forgotten my manners! Forgive me.”

You grit out, “I don’t care- let me go!” He releases a delightful chuckle, ignoring your struggle and plea with a blissful expression, “In Wonderland I am the March Hare, or more personally, Kai.” Briefly, he peers over his shoulder to see you still pulling and tugging against his hand and he snickers, “You’re quite adorable when you struggle like that, you must have really gained the King’s fervour.”

You stiffen, heart racing, how did he know? Kai smiles widely, “Oh don’t panic, you’ve come to the right place, that pompous ruler of ours never attends my tea parties no matter how many invites I send him. Hmph, perhaps he prefers the Hatter’s more grand-scale tea parties. Huh, or maybe it’s my games he doesn’t like. Whatever, I don’t really care for his presence.”’

“Now that I think about it, it really has been a long time since I’ve had a guest. The King is so, so, selfish! He kills those he doesn’t like? Why not just send them my way? I’m not mean like him, so you don’t need to worry.” His words begin to blur out as you try to register the onslaught of information.

A giggle escapes his lips, “I’m just a lonely Hare, always having tea alone with occasional mice and egregious Hatter. How boring, you’d think I’d have gone insane?” Kai bursts out laughing, startling you.

Wasn’t he already insane? Goodness if this is supposed to be sane here, then what was considered insane here? You grimace and your eyes widen as you take in the new surroundings.

A shriek escapes your lips as you see several clothed mice scurry past your legs and you stumble into Kai’s back. He chuckles, “Oh it seems you’ve spooked the mice. Or, they’ve spooked you,” another crazed little laugh leaves his lips. Kai picks one up by the tail shoving it in front of your face making you scream and stumble back. What the actual fuck?

He cackles at your reaction, “Not a fan of mice? What a shame. Imagine how I feel then?” He carelessly tosses it down with a squeak and you flinch. Oh god, what have you gotten yourself into?

Kai leans down with a deep gaze, “But it’s okay, I’ve got you now, to entertain and not these pipsqueaks I call guests! You, you, you, are much better, aren’t you, precious?” A wave of unease and fear runs through your body. You had to get out of here. Surely, nothing could be as bad as the King of Hearts?

With a grand spin and skip, he snaps his fingers and as if by magic, several twinkling lights and little lanterns (with unfortunate fireflies trapped inside) begin illuminating, giving the area a warm glow. Your eyes process the tea party set up.

There was a long mismatched table set, beneath a whimsical tree with vibrant, oversized flowers, wrapped with various string lights and colourful bunting. The tablecloth is a patchwork of different colours and patterns which clash. The tea cups are an assortment of shapes and sizes with a grand teapot with its spout shaped and painted like a purple elephant’s trunk. What the hell?

The chairs are quirky, unstable, some that wobble and the legs twist into weird shapes. There’s an eclectic mix of wacky treats, most notably the enormous scones, cakes with impossible layers and…giant sandwiches? Fucking hell, you’d believe you were on drugs if it weren’t for everything that happened earlier!

“Like it?” Kai asks, over-excited. You grimace, “It’s certainly…something.” Rolling his eyes, he grabs your arm, dragging you towards one of the chairs and you hiss, “Wait-!”

He pulls out a chair and gestures with a tilt of his head to sit. You huff, “No way.” Kai grins at you, placing his hands on both of your shoulders, “I’m all for playing hard to get, I can work with you, precious.” You yelp as he shoves you down onto the seat and pushes the chair with you on it against the table roughly, rattling everything on it making the remaining mice scatter.

Kai pushes several plates of food and some cutlery towards you and brightly hums, “Eat, eat, up! You need energy.” Looking at the food, your stomach doesn’t rumble, in fact, you feel sick.

“Oh precious, are you worried I poisoned it? I get it, your fears are justified. The King likes to do that doesn’t he? Remember I'm not cruel like the king?” His assurance doesn’t seem to alleviate your anxiety at all.

You murmur nervously, “Really, I’m not hungry.” He takes one of the cupcakes on the table, peeling off the striped wrapper and takes a massive bite; the chocolate smearing on his lips. After swallowing, he wipes his lips with a pink napkin, “See? Nothing happened to me? Tastes really good, precious.”

You gaze down at one of the plates presented and see a slice of chocolate cake and some biscuits on another plate. Meanwhile, Kai takes the liberty to pour you some tea in a comically large cup. This all feels disorienting to you. He urges once more, “Go on, don’t be shy, eat away, to your heart's content. Come on! Don’t make me say it thrice!”

With shaky hands you pick up the cake slice, you bring it to your lips. Kai watches you with great anticipation and you bite down. A burst of rich, creamy chocolate flavour bursts in your mouth brimming with ecstasy. Fuck, it tastes so good! What the hell?

Kai’s lips form a sly smile, “Oh? I saw that twinkle in your eyes. You like it, don’t you?” You shake your head, your mouth still full with cake. This damn cake!

A grin forms, “Oh? Are you embarrassed? I’ll have you know, this cake was once the favourite of the King. But he stole my recipe and now makes it at the palace,” Kai huffs.

You take another bite and he coos, “Just like that, you have no idea how happy it makes me to spoil my dearest, pretty guests.” If there was poison in this, no doubt it tasted good. Well, if there was one way to go out, this would be it. But oddly enough, as you continue to eat, nothing happens. So you take more, a biscuit there, a bite of a scone here, a touch of cream, a cupcake, some toffee and a sip of tea.

Your stomach feels full, incredibly so. In fact you hadn’t eaten since you arrived. How was everything on this wild table so good? Kai had helped himself to his own food alongside you, talking on and on, badmouthing the king, the Hatter and the mice.

Yawning, you sigh, feeling tired. Perhaps you’d gotten carried away with your food fest. Shit…did you over indulge yourself? It had been awhile… and it tasted so good. It’s not so wrong is it?

“And then I said to him..” Kai’s voice becomes muffled and your vision darkens as your eyes flutter shut. Just… a little nap.

Kai stops talking and peers at you fondly. “What a pretty sleeping face, it touches my heart.” He walks over cupping your cheek and he snickers seeing the slight smear of frosting on your lips and he wipes it off with his thumb. “How endearing, indeed. I could just eat you up, precious.” He takes another moment to gaze over your features, lingering a little longer on your parted lips, before shaking his head with a smile.

How quaint indeed…

A warm fuzzy feeling envelops you and you smile at ease. Was this all just a horrific nightmare? Were you finally going to wake up back in your bed at home?

With a croaky groan, your eyes flutter open, light filling your gaze. You peer around and go to move when you feel a constraint against your wrists, they’re bound together. A shriek escapes your lips, “What the fuck? What’s this-?” You regard the pink silk ribbon tied around your wrists with delicate care with a pretty bow on top.

It may not have been poison but it was a sedative! Shit. Your head pounds as you see double of everything, as if one wasn’t enough for your overstimulated brain!

A laugh reverberates and you turn your head to see the March Hare in all his glory with a gleaming, illustrious smile, as he tugs at the hem of his gloves. “Ah, you’ve awoken, precious. How soundly you slept, I could get used to seeing such a sight daily.”

You snarl, “You maniac! What have you done?” He snickers, “Oh? What’s with the sour mood? Woke up on the wrong side of bed?” You snap, “Oh fuck off! Release me, I’ve indulged you haven’t I? I ate your fucking cake and desserts, what have I done to deserve this?”

Kai pouts at the use of your profanity, “Ah, ah, ah, no improper words at my tea party, this is a place of decorum after all. Only the Hatter’s Parties are so frivolous!”

You sneer, “Oh tying your guests hands together is considered decorum now, is it?” Kai snickers leaning down behind your chair, his lips close to your ear, “Be thankful I didn’t tie your legs together too. But hm, you raise a point. One that I won’t take into account, because,” he walks to the left of you with an extravagant wave of his hands, “My party, my rules!”

You seethe and he coos, “Oh don’t look at me like that, you’ll make me like you even more! How cute you look when you’re so frustrated!” His words send a tornado of anger surging through you. The sheer audacity of this man!

Rolling his eyes, he teeters as he walks around the table, “Anyway,” he snickers, “I didn’t kill you did I? Poison you? Stab you? You should be thanking me actually! If I were the Hatter, I’d have you hanging upside down on that tree over there gagged and swinging like a pendulum on a grandfather clock.”

You shiver at the thought, holy shit. This was insane! He hums, crossing his arms, “After all, I like my share of fun. What makes you think I’d just be content at seeing my little guest eat away? Sure that’s enlightening, but I want,” he approaches you once more, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of the armrests of the chair, caging you in, “…some real fun.”

His eyes beam into yours sending a dark shudder through you as his lips morph into a manic, just a little too-wide of a grin, “You can give me that can’t you? You’ve been good for me so far, haven’t you? You won’t die. None of my guests die! Well, unless they try to leave and break the rules I set, then let’s just say, I… put them out of commission for a while!”

Out of commission? Break the rules? Leave? What the fuck! Oh, he was deranged in his own twisted way. You definitely had to get out here!

Kai frowns, stepping back with a huff, “You don’t get it do you! Everyone always tries to leave! So that’s why I’ve bound your wrists! I give my guests so much freedom and it always backfires!” His eyes widen immensely as he grasps your shoulders shaking you with ferocity, “You can’t blame a Hare for becoming lonely? I just want someone to have tea and play with!”

For the first time you see hesitation, panic, anxiety in his brown eyes, causing your breath to hitch. “You’re different right? I can just tell, you’re not like the other pathetic losers that come here! You made it past THE Red King of Hearts, you’re definitely special!” His rambling makes your head spin.

“You liked the desserts and food right? I can make more. The fun will never end! We can play all my games, and it won’t even have any dire consequences, I just want someone to entertain me. I know you might be a little angry…but I'm sure you’ll calm down soon enough, won’t you?” He splutters with a manic gaze, shaking you further and you yell, “Stop!”

Kai freezes, breaking out of his rambling and manic muttering to peer into your frightened gaze and he coos softly, “Goodness, look at me rambling again, my apologies, I do this quite often with those I’m comfortable with. I- I- promise I’ll try to keep it in check.” He laughs brokenly, “Ah, you’ll have to get used to that. Don’t want you getting sick of me, would we?”

Too late for that, you think. Wait…get used to it? You stiffen. He wouldn’t let you leave. Like forever?

“…So I can’t leave your tea party?” You stammer. His brows furrow and he smiles, “Why would you? I’ve got everything here? And who knows when the next guest will arrive? The King probably wouldn’t even let them come here. Or they’d be stupid, and die on the way. Why take my chances when I have you already?” He speaks as though none of his words were deranged.

Shakily, you utter, “But…my home? I don’t belong here. I picked up that invitation by accident!” You splutter further, panic running through your system, “T-Think about it, always having the same guest, you’ll get bored of me, like you got bored of the Mice and the Hatter!”

Kai remains silent for a moment and a smirk appears on his lips as he suddenly cups your jaw, “Aw, are you trying the king’s method of reverse psychology? How adorable.”

Your face pales and lips quiver, “K-Kai, please. You have a heart, you’re sane right? You’re better than the King in all respects, you’ve treated me well and haven’t hurt me so far? Please,” you plead in desperation.

He clicks his tongue, “Tsk, tsk, none of that from you. Keep those pretty lips sealed, won’t you? I’ve finally got the one thing I’ve been wanting for a long time and you think your meager pleas will melt my heart and I’ll just let you go so I can be in solitude once more? Please!” Kai lets out a crazed laugh throwing his head back and clutching his stomach.

“Oh precious, no one’s really like you at all! Here you are, legs unbound yet you’re asking me so politely to leave instead of bolting off with tied wrists!” Kai cackles. Your shoulders droop and you frown.

You weren’t stupid, you knew you could run. But you didn’t want to find out the horrendous consequences of such an action. After all, he said he doesn’t like breaking the rules.

“I’ve got so much in store for you, if you managed to surpass the King, then your brain up there must surely be big, hm?” Kai grins, pressing the tip of his index finger to the center of your forehead and you flinch.

Muttering under your breath, you say, “I just want to go home.” Kai freezes and a dark expression crosses his face, “Home? Don’t be daft. This is your home now. Why in Wonderland would you return to that dismal place you call home? Tell me does your home have Giant Tulips and Neon Roses? Games galore?”

You snap, “I’ve had enough!” Your voice cracks, “I’m exhausted.” He groans dramatically, “Oh don’t be like that, you just woke up! I’ve worked so hard to set up some games for you. Well, that’s the one thing I can be better at than the Hatter at.”

“Games?” You sigh with a shriveled expression. You didn’t want to play his stupid games. With a mighty clap of his hands, he starts, “So! Let’s play!” Your mind whirrs, you had to get out of here, otherwise you’d be perpetually stuck here! Think, think, think Y/n! He resumes over-excited, “The first game is Shrink Maze!”

All of a sudden, dozens of dressed-up mice climb the table and push all the cutlery, napkins, holders, plates and dishes into what seems to be a maze. What did you just witness?

“Well done little ladies and gents,” Kai titters. Reaching into his pocket, he brings out a tiny vial filled with purple liquid. “Drink this nifty little thing and you’ll become the size of a mouse. Convenient right? I always did like becoming a tiny, put the entire world into a new perspect-“

You had it! All games had prizes! You just had to beat his games and make sure he had no way of refusing you! Your eyes scan around as he rambles on. There was a small iron gate with a faded red arrow. Through the foliage you see the billowing checkered valleys that lay ahead. That had to be your way out! It had to be, either way it was a chance you were willing to take!

Kai’s eyes narrow as he sees your line of sight and he leans down with a smirk, “Ah, ah, ah, looking to escape are we? That’s the Hatter’s territory precious, I don’t think your mind will handle his insanity.”

Oh whatever, yes, yes, you got the drill by now. Who said you actually had to meet the Hatter? You’d take your chances; you made it this far haven’t you? But you had confirmed one thing. That gate was indeed the exit out of the Hare’s Tea Party Grove.

He hums amused, “Even if you somehow staggered over there without me seeing, you’d only find it locked and the key is only in one place that only I know. So…too bad!” He lets out a wavering guffaw making you flinch.

You hum defiantly, “Your games. I’ll play. On one condition. A winner’s reward.” Kai tilts his head intrigued by your proposition, “Oh? Feeling cocky are we? What makes you think I’d agree to such terms then, precious?”

“You like games, and I’m sure after this long and many guests. You like winning them. Outsmarting your guests. Outwitting them. Seeing them struggle,” you firmly speak, gazing into his eyes with a racing heart.

“Huh,” he muses, folding his arms, eyes twinkling in amusement, “Very astute of you to observe such a thing. I do. I do like winning. I do like seeing my guests fumble about and lose.” With a shaky breath, you proclaim, “If I lose, I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you. Forever. We’ll have tea forever. If I win..”

He sharply interrupts you, “Which you won’t-“ you interrupt him back, “If I do, then you’ll grant me freedom. The key to that gate over there.” Kai throws his head back laughing; his fist slams on the table making the mice squeak as he finds your words the funniest someone has ever uttered.

“You’re bold, you know that? No wonder you made it past the King.” Your jaw clenches and your hands become clammy. Bite the bait! Kai utters with a sly grin, “Fine, I suppose I do love to win. I’ll bite,” he leans down startling you, “The bait I mean, not you. Unless…” “No-“ you sharply utter with a glare making him cackle.

“I do look forward to seeing you fumble and flap about.” You scoff, “As if.” With a leap behind you, he pulls you up, “Up, up, up, I’m getting bored from all this talking. As I was saying, Shrink Maze! See this lovely maze my mice friends have set up for you. You have to make it through to the exit.”

You glance at the maze. Seemed easy enough, you already had found the way out, simple. You could win this easily. All of a sudden, he grabs your jaw and presses the vial to your lips, “Spit it out and I’ll dislocate your jaw open into a permanent laugh,” he warns.

Your eyes widen, body tensing as the sickeningly sweet liquid slides down your throat. A tingle appears in your fingers and soon spreads like wildfire across your body. All of a sudden you feel lightweight and you find yourself tiny falling towards the now ginormous table, screaming.

Kai cackles, catching you in his hand and you tremble seeing his sheer size and dark gaze, “How cute you are, I could just crush you in the palm of my hand. Smoosh.” He drops you down onto the table and the monstrously sized cups, plates and decorations tower over you. You couldn’t see shit now! You didn’t even memorise the maze, fuck!

With a twisted smile, “Go on now, make your way through the maze.” With shaking limbs, you walk into the maze. Okay… you do recall having to take the first right and then one left, but that’s about it. So, you do just that. As you’re at a junction, you freeze hearing a terrifyingly loud squeak.

Kai’s voice resounds, “Oh sorry, I forgot to mention, the mice will be playing too. I did tell them that they’d get a nice chunk of cheese if they caught you, so I do apologise if they are tad aggressive, precious.” Thudding footsteps resound and you release a piercing shriek as you see a furry enemy turn the corner towards you sniffing and squeaking.

Fuck this! You hiss seeing your bound wrists, it made running so much harder! With your utmost you go straight, take a left, another left and another right. You had no fucking clue where you were heading? Another set of footsteps vibrate the table and tears brim your eyes.

Kai grins, “Oh dear, seems you’re at a dead end. Should I point them in the right direction, they’re only a wall away from you precious?” You snarl pint-sized, “Shut up!” Another squeak resounds.

You had to be quiet, they hadn’t found you here yet. You wrack your brains viciously. You peer up seeing the gargantuan decorations and chairs, back at Huening Kai. Hm, if you took into account their positions. Kai was East, you were the closest to him, so you were on the East of the maze. The exit was near the third chair of the table. Yes, yes! Maybe you could do this!

With your body and mind working overtime, you use the position of the humongous furniture, items and surroundings to help locate yourself and find your way through.

A shrewd shriek echoes and you scream seeing another mouse charging towards you from the right and your eyes flick around. You were this close, you were not going to let some furry nuisance ruin that! You couldn’t lose no matter what! The billowing napkin catches your eye and with speed, you grab it and hoist it above you charging towards it, the cloth flapping and puffing under the wind. The mice adorning an apron squeaks, eyes widened with confusion and fear and scurries off. Despite its size, it was still a skittish mouse!

A disapproving click of the tongue is heard from above - Kai. You let out a delirious laugh, your idea was stupid, stupid enough to work in this dreadful place!

“Ugh, how dreadful. Stupid mice,” he mutters with an irritated glare. Running, you take another right; the third chair now towering over you. It was right there! You grin widely seeing the path only turn right and with all your might you sprint.

The exit appears and you rush past with a foolishly wide grin as you peer up at him panting and sweat-ridden, “Done!” Your heart slams against your ribcage, legs burning and lungs on fire.

With a roll of his eyes, he picks up a green-rimmed tea cup and your eyes widen as he hovers it over you and a few drops fall on you causing you to shriek. A familiar tingling sensation appears and in the blink of an eye you find yourself back to normal size. Kai snarks, “A growing potion brings things back to regular size. Sorry, I suppose you are a bit soaked. Not many have made it past, so huh, good job.”

You grumble and he muses suddenly cupping your jaw to face him, “Though the sight of you soaked isn’t too bad either.” Glaring, you mutter, “I won. Next game.”

Kai grins, “Eager are we? You truly are different from the other guests. It really does make me want to just keep you all to myself, I bet we’d have so, so, so much fun together!” He pushes you to sit down with an excited flurry and Kai smiles at you, “Let’s talk.” You deadpan. “No, I mean, that’s the game, precious. Come on keep that pretty head of yours up to speed!”

You scoff at his remark and he grins sitting down opposite you, “What is the colour of the wind?” Your brows furrow. The fuck? He snickers at the bamboozlement on your visage.

“Give me an answer that satisfies my two questions and we’ll progress to the next game!” Kai chuckles loudly before he groans, exasperatedly, placing a dramatic hand on his forehead, “Give me a boring one and I’ll just consider that you lose.”

“That isn’t fair! You just won’t let me win!” You grit your teeth, this game wasn’t objective at all! You could be however creative you wanted and he could deny you all he wanted! This sly bastard!

“My Grove, my rules, precious, now stop pouting and start thinking!” He giggles. He really was determined to get you to stay; you gaze into his eyes, a spark of hesitance. Ah, ha! He didn’t like the fact you traversed the maze. That you won. That you had the possibility to escape. You’d sown the seed of doubt in his mind.

The gate. You just needed the key to the gate. If you could just find it. “Tick-tock!” You snap, “You didn’t mention a time limit?” Kai smiles mischievously, “Did I not? Whoops, well there is now, I’m sorry precious.” You glower at him, “Secondly, there is no time here!” He pouts, “Don’t ruin the experience, precious, here I’ll count then. Twenty, nineteen..”

You release a frustrated groan. The key. Fuck! You needed to keep him occupied. An answer he likes, something nonsensical, not logical perhaps?

“Uh…” you pick your brains. “Ten, nine..” he grins. You splutter, “The c-colour of the wind..” you eye the fluffy marshmallows on one cupcake, “is a thousand fluffy marshmallows and- and, forgotten rain..bows?” You finish unsurely.

Kai registers your answers before cackling maniacally, “Oh my goodness!” He shakes your tied hands over-excited, “Wonderful, wonderful!” His eyes meet yours with a twisted pleasure, “You are perfect to play with. Perfect. You just get me!” Remaining silent, you give him a glare making him laugh once more.

He leans forward gripping your wrists more tightly, “Mm, I did adore that nonsensical answer but you already won once right, so? Mm, no. You could have been even more nonsensical.” You snarl, “You-! This is unfair, completely unfair! How can I win then?”

He shrugs, his fingers reaching up to nonchalantly fiddle with his shirt collar, “Not my problem precious. Why would I help you leave?” You sneer, “I think you’re just afraid that I’ll escape.”

Kai painfully tugs at your bindings with a manic gaze and tilt of his head as he grits out, “One loss is already too many in my head. I don’t like, don’t like it at all. Also, I’d prefer to not let my pretty little guest win her prize of freedom. So, suck it up, precious and do what so say, when I say it, or I’ll just make you play for eternity.”

Kai’s fingers move up to fiddle unbothered with his necklace, the tiny key swiveling between his fingertips with ease. Wait. Your heart drops to your stomach as realisation fills your senses. The key! The only key here you’d seen was that key around his neck. Or were you just thinking a little too outside the box? Maybe you didn’t have to go through all this horseplay, no, you could just take a shortcut!

Gears in your mind grind and rattle. He did not underestimate you, that much was clear. He had changed his games up so much so that there was no way to win! You had to grab that key, and make a run for it! Huh…but the key was tiny. How could it fit in that gate’s keyhole?

“Hello?” Kai’s voice and sudden hand on your jaw breaks you out of your trance, “I’m waiting, don’t tell me I’ve melted that pretty head of yours into mush already?” You scoff shaking his hand off, “No. Hit me with the next question.” You just had to keep him occupied as you think of a way to get that key.

Kai grins widely, “Hmm…If a teapot…could sing, let’s say, opera. What genre would it perform?” As if to mock your predicament, he grabs the teapot and tilts it into his cup pouring more tea. What the type of question was that?

You snap, “You’re insane.” He giggles frantically sipping his tea, “Why thank you. Everyone always calls the Hatter insane, but sorely underestimate my abilities!” You seethe at his irritatingly charming smile.

“Just- Just give me more than twenty seconds this time, please,” you plead, feigning desperation. He tilts his head and coos, “Aw, that’s cute, I like the tone you get when you plead, fine, I shall allow it.” You have to refrain from sneering - he only allowed it because he was going to reject whatever nonsensical answer you came up with!

Your gaze flickers over the assortment of items on the table, lingering on the sharp knife beside the cake. The very cake that sedated you. Shit, you couldn’t even get him to eat it, he wasn’t stupid. Your eyes settle on the green-rimmed teacup, the growing elixir. Your eyes widen, the key- you could grow it back to original size (well, if your hypothesis was correct!)

It made the most sense, what place was more safe to keep the key than next to his own neck, shrunken down inconspicuously? You smile extra wide and he raises a brow, “What’s gotten you so happy, precious?”

“I’ve found an answer that I think you’ll like a lot,” you stand up. A sly smirk lines his lips, “Oh really? I have terribly high expectations, you know. Do enlighten me then.”

You brush past him with a calm gaze as you walk towards the teacup with the elixir. “The genre it would perform would be teatime tragedy.” Kai’s smile falters and he grimaces in disgust, “That’s your answer? How boring.”

You shrug, “Really?” Despite your bound wrists, you hook your finger into the handle of the teacup and raise it precariously. “It’s about the dramatic tales of an evening tea party that goes terribly,” you throw the teacup at him and his eyes widen as the liquid splashes across his face and torso. You finish, “Wrong.” With a bright hum, you gleam, “Like that.” Kai’s eyes snap to meet yours infuriated, “H-How dare you, such insolence! At my tea party? I’m the host!” You snap, “And I’m the guest!”

“Following my rules,” he argues flagrantly, “I did. I answered your question,” you grit out. He snarls displeased by your sudden defiance and your eyes sparkle as you see the key on his neck grow slowly. You had to make sure he didn’t notice!

With a rough tug, his fingers wrap around your neck and your lips part in surprise, hands against his chest. “Don’t test my patience precious, no matter how much you play, I won’t ever, ever let you win. Got that? Get that drilled into your lovely little skull.”

Your gaze meets his, breaths tumbling out. His body heat seeps through your clothes. His face was even prettier this close. His sharp nose, infuriated eyes, high cheekbones, a man sculpted by the gods themselves. Too bad he was a maniac, you’d have fawned over him in the real world. You see his eyes flicker to your lips back to your gaze, “There’s just something about you. I don’t like. At the same time, I don’t hate.”

So close. The key was so close. You almost flinch when his other hand moves a stray strand of your hair out of your face and delicately cups your cheek, “Such a pretty face, pretty eyes, cute nose,” his thumb tugs down at your lower lip making your breath hitch. Kai takes notice, smirking, “Such irresistible lips, that spew such irritable nonsense.”

“And you don’t?” You counter back breathless. Kai chuckles, “I do, but it’s better when you do it.” You lean closer, “Really? Do I win then? Could you just let me have this second win?” You plead. Kai clicks his tongue with a condescending grin, “Mm, you know I can’t do that, even when you beg so pretty, precious.”

Well, who needed his permission anyway? With a sudden jump, your hands clamp over the key and with a rough tug, you run past him. He screeches in agony, the friction of the necklace against his skin and the sound of it snapping from the sheer force of you pulling it off his neck. You peer down, the key was indeed large enough!

“You-!” The March Hare snarls enraged as he sees the key. He lets out a deranged laugh, “You clever, clever, little thing! So you figured it out all this time huh? You never planned to indulge me at all!” He lunged forward with an arm outstretched. You shriek, kicking one of the chairs in his direction to hold him back a little longer. You could NOT afford to drop this key!

Bolting towards the gate, you pant madly, you could do it! You were so close, so close- your fumble with the key inserting into the keyhole trembling. Quick, quick, quick!

“You misbehaving brat, after all that hospitality-“ you scream as you feel his hand on your shoulder and you twist yourself around head butting him in the face making him groan. Blood drips to the ground from his nose, sliding down his lips and chin as he coughs.

Tremoring, you twist the key, it doesn’t open, “Fuck!” You scream. You twist it the other way and you hear a rusty click followed by a groan as the worn gate slowly swings open. As you go to sprint, Kai’s hand grips the back of your shirt with frightening strength. Fear envelopes your gaze, adrenaline pulsates through you.

So you do the one thing that comes to mind, with your leg, you kick the gate backwards to a close and a painful string of curses leaves his lips as the heavy gate slams onto his arm with a sickening crunch, releasing you. Kai bellows in agony, falling to his knees; the surge of pain bearing too much for him, perhaps even a fracture of his arm.

He sneers, panting like a rabid dog, “That cursed little-“ Kai’s lips form an eerily wide grin as he yells out, “It’s a death s-sentence for you now precious! Oh I hope the Hatter treats you even better than I did!” A deranged laugh leaves his body as he clutches his arm, throwing his head back as tears run down his face.

Indeed the March Hare would spiral further into the abyss of insanity and isolation once more it would seem.

If only your hands weren’t tied together, it would have made this entire thing easier. You sprint, your calves searing and beginning to seize up, fuck, you couldn’t afford to look back. What if he was still chasing you? You shudder, powering through. You needed to find a way to cut this ribbon off, it was beginning to hurt your skin!

After what seemed like forever, you finally slow down into a jog and then finally a walk. Your limbs tremble from exhaustion. The foliage around you seems to morph and you begin seeing various trinkets scattered around the blue and purple plants. Where was this absurd place? Surely you couldn’t have ran into the Hatter already?

Walking cautiously, you peer around. All of a sudden a raspy voice startles you and you spin around trying to locate it, “Well, well, what’s this? A new guest? It’s been so long, dear.” It chuckles, “Up here.”

You tilt your head up and your eyes narrow as you finally see a large bluish-purple caterpillar lounging in the trees, with a lazy smile and hookah in one hand. It was incredibly camouflaged - holy shit!

“What’s with the bound wrists? Asking for a death sentence? If the Hatter finds you like this, he’ll have a real jolly time with you.” You feel nauseous at the thought and you awkwardly ask, “Ah, you wouldn’t mind untying me, cutting this off would you?” It heartily laughs, taking another breath from its hookah.

“I don’t know, why should I?” It muses, its many arms moving. You sigh exhausted, “Please, please don’t make my life anymore difficult than it is. You know what, never mind, I’ll find a sharp rock or branch or something.”

Before you walk off, it scuttles down making you grimace and reaches around in the messy foliage bringing out a small blade, with a swift slice, the ribbon comes undone and your hands are free to move. Eyes wide, you thank him, “Why? You just said-“

“I know, I know, yes, yes,” it rolls its eyes and you cough as it blows the purple fumes into your face. “I can’t help but feel pitiful for the poor souls that end up here. Far too much effort really, to survive here,” It groans, stretching. You inquire, “Well, uh thanks anyway. You…wouldn’t happen to know an exit by any chance?”

The plump caterpillar snickers, “An exit? In Wonderland? Oh dear, that’s not easy to find.” You deadpan, “So you know where it is, and the fact it does exist.” It muses grinning, “Well observed dear. Indeed, it’s in Cheshire’s Forest. On the outskirts, though, only one person’s made it that far.”

You frown, “One person?” It nods, “The others well, let’s just say Cheshire doesn’t make it easy. He knows everything about Wonderland. But no one knows anything about him.” You shiver. What an enigmatic figure…

“Though, you could say he’s the sanest of the lunatic bunch here. Oddly. After all, in a land where madness reigns, only the sane can ordain,” it utters and you blink. You think your brain has quite literally fried beyond comprehension.

“Uh, well anyway, thanks I guess. I’ll be going,” you mutter. You’d probably rest somewhere first, then try to head to the forest. The caterpillar hums quizzically regarding your retreating figure, “Follow the path where the shadows dance, and you’ll find the Mad Hatter’s chance.”

You scoff with a smirk - yeah well, you’d avoid it then. No way.

Too bad you didn’t catch the rest of the line, oh well, the caterpillar didn’t really care enough to stop you. You’d die of insanity by the Hatter’s hand or Cheshire - it didn’t matter.

“Avoid the path with all your might, and you’ll find yourself with quite the fright,” it muses, completing the line, “Oh dear, well they made it this far, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Taglist: [open]

@naoristerling @staaaarykids @tremendousphantommiracle @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @baekberrie @syraphyina @fullbodyblankets @soohashits @f4iryfever @themochiverse @atiny-chocolate-chip @nothingwithoutgyu @ethystclove @hancafe @nap-of-a-starr @isa942572 @evn-09 @ninitorih @m3chigo @tenleeluvr @matcha-binz @soobunnymoa @sleepyygyu @nicngyu @vicurious28 @kurokkkiko0 @zyoopioo @noraimp @bvqler @lailols @iiisusy

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urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

Note

Love your works!!!! And I love Mr. Pickles!!!

May I ask for headcanons if reader dies in their arms?

Asking for: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Piotr Rasputin, Beast, and Illyana Rasputin

No pressure ofc!!! Thank you!!

And have I mentioned that I fucking love your works?!?!

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You die in their arms (Part.1)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Colossus, Hank McCoy & Magik

First of all, thank you for this message, you are my first request and you have no idea how much it touches me. And secondly, your compliments make me blush, I'm glad you like my work, because personally I've never had as much fun as writing about something as this. Get ready for a LOT of headcanons because I have a lot in store. Above all, don't hesitate to ask for other requests <3 And thanks to you, you inspired me to make your request for other X-Men and X-Women. PS: MR. PICKLES WILL RETURN

Emma Frost

The battlefield was littered with chaos—explosions, screams, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. You and Emma had been fighting alongside the X-Men, as you had countless times before, but this time was different. This battle had been brutal, and even though you had faced danger before, nothing had ever felt this dire. You had always fought by her side, both of you in sync, but as the fight raged on, you felt your strength starting to wane.

Emma’s voice was sharp and commanding in your mind, as always. “Stay with me, darling. We’re almost through this,” she had said, her mental link giving you strength. But when the blast came—one you hadn’t seen coming—it sent you flying, the pain immediate and overwhelming. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your side, feeling the warmth of your own blood seeping through your fingers.

Emma’s scream tore through the battlefield, her telepathic wail so fierce it silenced everyone for a moment. In the next second, she was at your side, her diamond form shimmering as she knelt down, her hands trembling as they reached for you. The moment her fingers touched your skin, her diamond exterior shattered, leaving her vulnerable in a way she never was on the battlefield.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no... this can’t be happening."

You struggled to stay conscious, your vision blurring as you looked up at her, the love of your life, her face twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," you choked out, each word a struggle. "I tried... I really tried."

Tears fell from her eyes, something she rarely allowed herself to do. She pressed her forehead against yours, her voice shaking. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not yet. I won’t let you go."

But you could feel it. The life slipping away, your heartbeat growing fainter. You reached up weakly, your hand brushing against her cheek. "Emma... I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Emma’s breath hitched as she gripped your hand, holding onto you as if her sheer willpower could keep you alive. "I love you too," she whispered back, her lips brushing your forehead. "Please... please stay."

But you couldn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body growing still in her arms.

For a moment, Emma just sat there, her mind refusing to accept what had just happened. Then, with a heart-wrenching scream, she unleashed a wave of telepathic energy so powerful that it swept across the battlefield, knocking down enemies, sending shockwaves through everyone’s minds. She cradled your body, her chest heaving with sobs, her mind desperate, reaching out to you, trying to find any trace of your consciousness.

But you were gone.

And for the first time in her life, Emma Frost felt utterly, completely broken.

Charles Xavier

The fight had been relentless, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, the battle had taken a terrible toll. You had always been the calm in Charles’ storm, the grounding presence he could rely on when the weight of leading the X-Men grew too heavy. But today, everything had gone wrong. You had been separated from the team, cornered by enemies, and though you fought bravely, you had been wounded—badly.

By the time Charles found you, the world had already started fading around the edges. He wheeled towards you with a speed and desperation you had never seen in him before. His voice echoed in your mind, trembling with fear. *"Y/N, hold on. Please, just hold on."*

You could barely open your eyes, the pain in your body making it difficult to even breathe. But you heard him, and you smiled weakly, your heart aching as you felt his mind reaching for yours, trying to steady you, trying to keep you present. "I’m sorry, Charles," you rasped, your voice so faint it barely carried over the sounds of battle. "I wasn’t strong enough."

"No," Charles said, his voice firm, though you could hear the fear beneath it. "You are strong. You’ve always been strong. Don’t leave me, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

You felt his hand grasp yours, his grip trembling. You had always marveled at how Charles carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, always keeping his emotions tightly controlled. But now, there was no control. There was only fear, and love, and desperation in his eyes.

"You were always my strength, Charles," you whispered, your hand squeezing his as best as you could. "I love you. So much."

Tears filled his eyes, his voice breaking as he spoke. "And I love you. You are everything to me."

You could feel his mind wrapping around yours, trying to hold you there, trying to stop the inevitable. He was begging, pleading with you to stay, to fight, but your body was failing. You felt the warmth of his love in your mind, a comfort even as the world started slipping away.

"Please, Y/N," Charles whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, don’t leave me."

But you couldn’t hold on any longer. The pain faded, the world grew silent, and your grip on his hand loosened.

Charles sat there, his hand still holding yours, as the battlefield around him seemed to blur into nothing. His heart shattered, and in that moment, all the strength and control he had maintained for years crumbled. He lowered his head, his tears falling onto your lifeless body, and he sent out a silent scream, a wave of raw emotion so powerful that it resonated across the minds of every living person on the battlefield.

Charles had lost many people in his life. But losing you felt like the end of everything.

Jean Grey

The battle had taken its toll, not just on the X-Men but on the world itself. You and Jean had fought side by side, your powers complementing each other in ways that made you an unstoppable force. But this battle had pushed you both beyond your limits. You had been caught in an explosion, your body thrown against the rubble, the pain blinding and all-consuming.

Jean was at your side in an instant, her telekinetic powers lifting the debris off you, her hands trembling as she reached for you. "No... no, no, no," she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled your head in her lap. "Y/N, stay with me."

You could barely keep your eyes open, the world spinning as you struggled to breathe. "Jean..." you whispered, your voice so weak, so broken. "I... I don’t think I can..."

"Don’t you dare say that," Jean said, her voice fierce but laced with panic. "You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you go."

You could feel her mind reaching out to yours, wrapping around your consciousness, trying to keep you there with her. Her love flooded your mind, a warmth that soothed the pain, but you could feel your body slipping away, your strength fading.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand weakly reaching for hers. "I’m so sorry."

Jean’s tears fell onto your face as she held you closer. "Don’t apologize," she said, her voice breaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve always been there for me. Please... just stay a little longer."

You could see the anguish in her eyes, feel the desperation in her mind as she tried to hold on to you. But the pain was too much, and your body was failing.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you too," Jean said, her voice shaking as she pressed her forehead against yours, her tears falling freely now. "Please... don’t leave me."

But you were slipping away, the world growing darker, quieter, as you took your last breath. Jean’s sobs echoed in your fading consciousness, her mind screaming out for you, trying to pull you back. But it was too late.

Jean held your lifeless body in her arms, her chest heaving with sobs. She let out a scream, a psychic wave that shattered the air around her, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Her grief, her agony, her love—they all collided in that moment, her powers surging uncontrollably as she held onto you, unable to let go.

In that moment, Jean Grey—one of the most powerful beings in the universe—felt utterly powerless.

Colossus

The battle was at its peak, and the sounds of war echoed around you. Explosions rocked the battlefield as Colossus, in his full metal form, fought valiantly beside you. His towering figure was always a source of comfort, an indestructible wall between you and the chaos. The ground shook beneath your feet as you moved to join him, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

But then, an enemy blast caught you off guard, the impact throwing you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the pain immediate and overwhelming. Blood seeped from your wounds as you struggled to breathe, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to respond. The sound of heavy metal footsteps reached your ears, and you knew Piotr had seen you fall.

His metallic form glimmered in the firelight as he ran toward you, his eyes wide with terror. You had never seen him like this, even in the most dangerous situations. He dropped to his knees beside you, the cold steel of his hands cradling you gently despite their immense strength.

"Y/N!" His voice was thick with fear, a sound you'd never thought you'd hear from someone as powerful as him. "Please, no. Not you. Not like this."

You tried to smile, but the pain was too much. "Piotr..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... I can't..."

He shook his head, his metal features twisting in agony. "Don’t speak. I’ll protect you," he promised, though the pain in his voice told you he knew there was nothing he could do. He tried to stem the flow of blood from your wound, his massive hands shaking.

His metal body was usually unyielding, but now he seemed so vulnerable, so afraid. He held you close, his cold arms pulling you against his chest. "Stay with me, please," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His entire body trembled as he struggled to maintain control.

Your hand reached up weakly to touch his face, the cool metal of his cheek sending a shiver through your fingers. "I love you," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as darkness closed in around you.

He let out a sob, his steel form shuddering with grief. "I love you more than anything, Y/N. You’re everything to me."

But it was too late. Your breath faded, and your hand slipped from his cheek, falling limply to the ground. Piotr let out a roar of anguish, his voice reverberating across the battlefield. He held your lifeless body close, his tears mingling with the blood and dirt that stained your skin. Even in his indestructible form, he felt more broken than ever before.

Magik

The battle had spiraled out of control, and you found yourself separated from the rest of the X-Men, the air thick with smoke and the sound of clashing metal. You had always admired Illyana’s ability to remain calm in the face of chaos, but this time, the situation was different. The enemies were relentless, and no matter how hard you fought, it wasn’t enough. Then, out of nowhere, a blade struck you, piercing through your side, and you collapsed to the ground.

Before you could even cry out, the world around you warped, and you found yourself in Limbo. Illyana stood before you, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the sight of your bloodied body. “No...” she whispered, her sword clattering to the ground as she rushed to your side.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming, your vision flickering in and out of focus. Illyana’s hands shook as she pressed them against your wound, trying to stop the blood that poured out of you. “I’ll fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can fix this.”

You had always known that Illyana was powerful beyond measure, but in this moment, she looked small, fragile, as though she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. She stared down at you, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she knelt beside you, her hands glowing with the dark magic of Limbo.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. “Not like this.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left, your hand brushing against her cheek. “Illyana,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love you too, more than anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

But you could feel your life slipping away, the pain becoming numb as the darkness closed in. You wanted to stay, to hold on, but it was too late. Your hand fell limp in hers, your chest rising for the last time as your heart stopped.

Illyana let out a scream that echoed through the very fabric of Limbo, a sound so filled with grief and fury that it sent shockwaves through the demonic realm. Her magic surged uncontrollably, her power crackling through the air as she cradled your lifeless body in her arms. In her rage, the demons of Limbo cowered, the sky itself trembling in fear.

But no amount of power could bring you back, and that realization shattered her. She held onto you, her tears falling onto your skin, whispering your name over and over again as the world around her grew dark, consumed by her grief.

Hank McCoy

The battlefield had turned into a warzone of destruction, and even though you and Hank had fought together many times before, this battle was unlike any you had experienced. You had always admired how composed and intellectual Hank was, even in the most dire of situations. But this time, the enemy had been too quick, too brutal, and before you could react, you had been struck by a powerful blast.

Your body hit the ground hard, pain shooting through you as you struggled to breathe. Blood spilled from the wound in your chest, and every breath felt like a mountain weighing down on you. Through the haze of pain, you heard Hank’s voice, panicked and desperate, something you had never heard from him before.

“Y/N!” He shouted, rushing toward you, his blue fur standing on end as he dropped to his knees beside you. His large hands were gentle as he cradled your head in his lap, his eyes wide with terror as he took in the sight of your injuries. “No, no, this can’t be happening.”

You tried to smile up at him, but the pain was too much. “I’m sorry, Hank,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Shh,” he said, his voice shaking. He pressed his hand to your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. His eyes were filled with panic, his normally calm and collected demeanor completely gone. “You’ll be alright. Just stay with me.”

You could feel the life draining from you, the world growing darker around the edges. You reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

Hank’s eyes filled with tears, something you had never seen from him before. “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” he said, his voice breaking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling onto your face. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”

You wanted to stay, to hold on, but your body was failing, your heart slowing with every passing second. You looked up at him one last time, your vision blurring as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And then, everything went dark.

Hank let out a strangled sob, his entire body trembling as he held you close. His mind raced, trying to think of a solution, something that could bring you back, but he knew it was too late. You were gone, and nothing could change that.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding your lifeless body in his arms, his tears falling freely as he whispered your name. The battlefield raged on around him, but for Hank, the world had stopped. You were gone, and with you, a part of him had died too.

#emma frost x reader #charles xavier x reader #jean grey x reader #colossus x reader #hank mccoy x reader #magik x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #x men imagines #x men headcanons #x men #x men x reader #imagines #imagine #headcanons #x reader

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honeipie · 6 months ago

Note

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

“what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

#honeipie #anime #bnha x reader #mha #writing #x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki #bakugou katsuki #drabble #firefighter au #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #kirishima eijirou

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months ago

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He's My Man (Part 3)

Summary: Russell's returned and it appears that the reader's past employment problems are behind her. But when a shirtless Russell invites her into his home and their flirting rises to new levels, the reader will have to grapple with a new reality she doesn't know how to deal with. Russell Shaw might just be the first good guy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, smidge of angst, fluff

A/N: That ending though 👀

__________

The sun was shining high when you woke, streams of light filtering in through the large windows. You hummed as you sat up, Colter typing away at his laptop outside. There was no sign of Russell though, a frown forming on your face.

He hadn’t left already, had he? He’d promised to tell you what happened back home.

You quickly changed in Colter’s bedroom into your joggers and AC/DC shirt, deciding to try Russell’s gifts out. The bra felt amazing, especially after wearing the same dirty one for a few days in a row. Even the lilac underwear was softer than you expected.

Outside you shrugged on one of Russell’s flannel’s, pouting when you saw his car was gone and yours was in it’s place.

“Morning,” said Colter, nodding towards where a cup of coffee laid waiting for you next to your chair.

“Hey,” you said, taking it without sitting. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

“Not a problem. You haven’t been getting much lately.” You glanced around and noticed he was packed up for the most part, probably itching to get on the road.

“You have a new case?”

“Yeah. Oregon, not too far,” he said. He reached into his pocket, holding out your car keys. You wearily took them, Colter glancing over the top of your head. “I told him to stick around but he wanted to make sure it was ready for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, Colter shrugging.

“Apparently Russell has a place 45 minutes from here. Some cabin on a lake? I didn’t know he had a house. But uh, he hasn’t been there in awhile and he went on ahead to clean and stock up or something. He wants you to head up there so you can talk.”

“Oh. That’s…sweet.” You chugged back half your coffee, Colter eyeing you suspiciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Go have your talk.” You hummed, taking another sip. “You don’t owe him anything you know.”

“I know. We’re just friends.” Colter smirked. “You want to go down that road, Shaw? I can’t help but notice you and Reenie got that whole enemies to lovers vibe-”

“And that’s enough of that conversation,” he said, standing with a stretch. He reached into his pocket again, tossing you your phone. “Russell said it’s safe to carry again. Call if you ever need anything, Y/N.”

“Have I grown on you, Colter?” you teased. He rolled hie eyes as you handed him your empty mug.

“Maybe. I’m working on the having friends thing.”

“Well, you Shaw boys aren’t conventional but you’ve grown on me,” you said, opening your arms. “Come on. Let’s hug it out.”

“This is why I don’t do friends,” he half grumbled when he stepped into it, rubbing your back once more. “Hey and if you do think you want to try rewardist work, call me. We’ll talk, figure out a safe way for you to do this stuff.”

“What makes you think I won’t just go back home and do what I was before?” you asked.

“Did you really want to do that crap again?” You frowned, shaking your head. He stepped back, pushing you towards the streamer. “That’s what I thought. Go pack. I’m sure Russell will be looking for you soon.”

One Hour Later

After leaving Colter with a promise to stay in touch, you arrived in a small town on the edges of a lake. It took a few minutes but your GPS eventually found the right road to head down. You had to question it when it told you that you’d arrived at your destination. The cabin Russell supposedly owned look more like a very expensive rustic mini-mansion some rich people would vacation to on the weekends.

Still, you pulled into the driveway and found Russell’s beat up car there. Cautiously you exited your car and went up the steps of the front porch, ringing the doorbell twice. A large wood door whipped open and you’d gotten your wish.

There was Russell before you. Damp hair slicked back, a few water droplets trailing down his broad chest and disappearing into the waist band of his navy sweatpants. You could see his tattoos scattered across his arm, a few on his wrist and thumbs and good god, how long had you been ogling his body?

Your head snapped up, Russell cockily leaning with one arm up against the doorframe wearing a satisfied smirk.

“Oh, please. Look all you want, babe.” You huffed and stormed past him, fighting the urge to turn around and see what his ass looked like in this skinny little joggers he had on. Nope. You had more self-control than that.

“You wish,” you said, surprised at the mixture of modern and rustic touches inside. “So you squatting here, Shaw?”

“I wish,” he chuckled, walking past you into the kitchen area, the smell of sandalwood and vanilla luring you to follow after. “I picked this place up after I got out of the military for cheap. Been renovating it room by room for the past decade.”

“Marble countertops?” you asked, rattling your knuckles against the white and silver veined surface. Russell leaned against the island, his biceps flexing with the movement. “I thought you said you aren’t made of money.”

“Maybe I want you to like me for me and not my wallet,” he said, looking at you through his eyelashes. “You know how much that visit to that little boutique set me back?”

“Oh, I think you can afford it,” you said, smiling as you slipped behind him, ruffling his damp strands. “Next time you want to buy me lingerie, just be a big boy and say so.”

“Here I was being thoughtful with no ulterior motives,” he said, standing and putting a hand to his chest. He frowned, closing his eyes in feigned pain. “I’m hurt, Y/N.”

“You can be thoughtful and at the same time admit you’d like to see what your choices look like.” He dropped his hand smiled.

“I really did buy them without expecting anything. I was there and thought a girl like you deserves something nice in her fucked up life.”

“I know, Russell,” you said quietly, offering him a smile. “I honestly do appreciate it.”

He nodded before going to his fridge and taking out a pair of waters, setting one on the counter near you. “You’re welcome. And if you were ever so inclined to want to show off my fashion choices, I suppose I could suffer through.”

“You’d really take that hit for the team wouldn’t you,” you teased. He hummed, crossing his arms.

“It’s a heavy burden but one I’m willing to bear.” You rolled your eyes and laughed quietly, slipping away before you got any closer to a half-naked Russell.

You pretended to meander around the house, enjoying the openness compared to Colter’s airstreamer. A large fireplace sat in the corner and you could see through the glass doors to the back covered porch that another sat out there as well.

“I made up the guest room.” You spun around, Russell pointing down a hallway. “Fresh sheets. Towels. I thought maybe you’d want to take a real shower and relax before you decide your next move.”

“Next move, huh.” You crossed your arms, looking out the back windows as dark clouds rolled in over the lake. “That your subtle way of saying I can’t go back home?”

Russell’s smile fell, quickly replaced with a neutral non-chalence you saw right through. He padded across the hardwoods over to your side, watching the clouds with you.

“I meant what I said last night. You’re safe. No one, and I mean no one, will ever come after you again. Go freshen up and we’ll talk after. I promise.”

“Fine. But only because Colter’s shower sucks.” You knew Russell was holding back something but you’d let it slide for the moment. A hot, long shower sounded amazing.

Forty minutes later you exited the guest suite with freshly washed hair, smooth legs and clean clothes. Alright, maybe they were Russell’s clothes he’d laid out on the bed for you but you weren’t complaining.

“How was it?” he asked when you found him on the covered back porch, a hard rain coming down.

“I hate to sound like a girl but that was so much nicer than your brother’s tiny ass shower stall,” you said, enjoying the cool air on your flush skin. Russell refrained from saying anything about the black Stones shirt you had put on or the way you were drowning in his sweatpants. You ran your fingers through your hair, Russell watching you try to tame the mess it’d become. “You didn’t happen to pick up any hair ties or scrunchies when you clearly went to the store and got me stuff, did you?”

He reached into his pocket with a smile and a dark green scrunchie appeared on his wrist, your eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

“I’m smarter than I look,” he said. You nearly asked for it when you decided to turn around, presenting your back to him.

“Can you handle a messy bun?” you asked. A spark rang down your spine as he gathered up your hair on top of your head, gently pulling it together and securing it. You patted it when he finished, Russell taking a bow to an imaginary crowd. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head. “Okay, how the hell do you know how to do that?”

“I could tell you but I’d have to kill you.” You rolled your eyes. “I learned it at special ops school.”

“Russ.” He laughed, taking a seat on the outdoor couch, arm over the back of it.

“I have a kid sister. I used to do her hair and shit when she was little.” You grinned, Russell holding up a finger.

“Don’t. Say-”

“Aw. What a good big brother you are,” you teased, sitting down next to him. Russell’s eyes glinted with a retort but he settled for letting his fingertips dance over your bare neck. Your breath hitched, Russell, cocking his head. “I can’t concentrate on what we need to talk about if you’re going to keep doing that.”

“Does that mean you don’t like it?” he asked, his body inviting you to tuck itself in right under that open arm. He grazed his fingers oh so lightly over your neck again and fuck, you wished he’d just grab hold and smash your lips to his already.

“You think just cause you’re sweet and thoughtful and hot and save a girl, you’ll win her over with your horrible flirting, just like that?” He leaned in close, so close you felt the heat radiating off his breath.

“I already won and she knows it. She just likes making me chase her.” You shivered when he thumbed over the back of your neck, a cocky smile on his face. “And she is a woman worth chasing so I will as long as she wants me to.”

You leaned in just when he pulled away and stood up, taking a seat in the chair opposite you with a big, stupid, cocky as fuck, smile on his face.

“Fucker,” you growled. Russell only smiled harder. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Oh, I pray I do,” he said, putting his hands behind his head, licking his lips. Your eye twitched, Russell chuckling deeply. “That’s my little queen of darkness I adore.”

“We will continue this conversation later,” you said, cutting him off. Russell nodded, taking the zip up from nearby and unfortunately tugging it on over his bare chest.

“So,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets, taking a deep breath. “You want to know what happened after you left.”

“That’d be nice, yes.” Russell pursed his lips, turning his head towards the downpour. “Russell. Come on.”

“I know you want details but I’m sorry, that’s not happening.” Your jaw dropped as he held up his hands. “You have had enough violence and death in your life. Now, I will answer your questions but I will use my discretion. You do not need…you don’t need that crap anymore. Please.”

Russell dropped his hand, leaning his elbows against his knees. When he looked up, his green eyes were somber and your heart did that flipping thing again.

“Are they all dead? The whole crew?” you asked quietly. He nodded. “That was like twenty five guys.”

“...Technically, they killed each other off. That’s why you didn’t hear about it in the news. Police are keeping it quiet.”

“How…you tricked them?” you asked. He nodded again. “You’re sure all of them-”

“Every last one. Sides were drawn. Elpine and some of his crew got involved too, killed in the crossfire. There’s no mafia left there. No one will ever look for you again if you decide to go back.”

“If?” you asked. Russell shrugged.

“You were forced to do a job you didn’t want. You don’t want to patch up scummy guys off the street. You get to live the life you want to now. You can do that back in Virginia…or you can do a clean slate. Start over somewhere new.”

“You mean here. Stay here with you,” you said. You stood up, going to the railing, a cold breeze hitting you.

“This is a safe place and you can take as long as you need to figure out what you want to do.” You felt him behind you, his hands settling on your arms. “I have enough. I don’t want to be a private contractor forever. I am more than happy to walk away and start fresh myself.”

“Russell, you are asking a lot.”

“No I’m not.” You frowned, closing your eyes. “Despite…I’m not asking you to pick me. I’m not that crazy. I know we’re still figuring each other out. I’m asking you to pick yourself. I’m asking you to trust now that I am not like those people you worked with. You never have to pick me if that’s what you want and there are no stings attached. Ever. Just don’t go back there. Start over somewhere where life will be kind to you.”

He rubbed your arms once before you felt him move away. You glanced back over your shoulder, Russell going to the fireplace and squatting down in front of it. A moment later, flames appeared and he was tossing a few logs from nearby inside.

“Russell.” He hummed, adjusting a large log with a sharp poker. He kept his back to you for a long beat, slowly rising and setting the poker aside. When he finally looked at you, his face was neutral, void of any signs of how he actually felt. You fidgeted, tugging down the hem of your shirt awkwardly. “Put aside the flirting. You and me…it’s not going to work out.”

“You’re sure about that, are you?” You scoffed, Russell holding up his hands.

You stormed over to him, stabbing a finger in his firm chest. “I am not whatever you think I am. I’m not a damsel looking for her white knight to come save her. I didn’t ask you to take care of my problem. You decided to do that, not me. I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly blinked, staring down with the tiniest hint of a smirk.

“Why are you always fucking smiling?” you growled.

“Well if you’re going to be the grumpy then I got to be the sunshine.”

“We’re not a fucking trope! I-I don’t need you. I don’t need you to buy me things. Or do things for me. Or offer to let me stay in this beautiful house. I’ve spent my whole life alone. There is no such thing as a good guy. All you want is in my fucking pants so let’s just fuck and get this fucking thing over with so I can go the fuck home.”

Russell’s eyebrows raised. He nodded, crossing his arms. “I’m not fucking you.”

“What? That’s…you’ve been flirting the second we met!”

“Oh, we’re past the hookup stage. We do this, it’s cause we’re the real deal.”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, going inside, pacing back and forth in the family room. To your extreme annoyance, Russell didn’t follow you. He just sat out there next to his fireplace, watching the rain come down. He really wasn’t going to talk to you about this? He was going to ignore you?

You huffed, wandering throughout the house and finding it frustratingly gorgeous. While it certainly leaned masculine as did most rustic style homes single men lived it, it felt…cozy. There was a warmth to it, even in the large expanses, that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. It was built almost like a retreat, Russell’s safe place away from the world.

You sat down on the top set of the stairs, frowning with your head in your hands.

Was there such a thing as a good guy? No, Russell wanted you for sex. A quick fuck. Maybe a fuck buddy at most but that was it. Right? He was a single man in his forties. Ex-military and he still did contracted black ops work. He was a trained killer. A deadly weapon hidden under a boyish smile and pretty face. There was no way he was a good guy that actually wanted a normal life.

“Do you always talk to yourself?” Your head snapped up, Russell giving you an awkward little wave from the landing a few feet away. You groaned, wiping your face off when you felt the trickle of tears on your cheeks. Russell stepped up and stopped, sitting down a few steps below you, close enough to reach out and grab your hand.

“I should go,” you said. Russell simply held out his open palm, your own hands now held in your lap.

“Whether I’m good or bad, I’ll leave that up to somebody else to decide. I don’t live my life in the black and white. But I can tell you if I only wanted to screw you, I would never have invited you to my home.” You stared down at your lap, closing your eyes when his callused thumb wiped under your eye, pushing away a rogue tear. “You ain’t a damsel. You’re my queen of darkness, remember?”

Your lip twitched up briefly, Russell letting out some satisfied little sound.

“I meant what I said earlier. Stay. Rest. Figure out your next move on your own time. If me being here complicates that, I can duck out.”

“No.” You grasped his wrist, flicking open your eyes. His palm felt so hot to the touch, your heart skipping when he grazed your skin. “Stay here.”

“Okay then,” he said. He stood, leaning over and kissing your forehead. Then he was moving down the steps, whistling a peppy tune. “I’m going to make us some grilled cheese and tomato soup. Love me some grilled cheese.”

“Wait!” you called, following him down the stairs. Russell spun around at the bottom, smiling up at you. “Why…I…I-I don’t understand. You’re really just going to let me stay here? Without committing to anything?”

His face fell, brow furrowing. “You’re really starting to scare me, Y/N. When’s the last time there was someone decent in your life?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” you said quietly. “The idea of someone like you being so kind crosses a lot of wires in my head.”

“That’s why you keep freaking out when I’m not a dick and give you space.” You nodded, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt again. He smiled, reaching up, offering his hand again. You let yours slip into it, Russell lacing your fingers together. “Well, I ain’t like other men, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

“Why me?” you asked, taking a step down, putting you at eye level with him. “I mean, why wouldn’t you want someone normal?”

“A normal girl sounds boring. Now queen of darkness? That sounds like a woman that’s badass enough to put up with me. Let’s stop freaking out, go make lunch, and let me try to help you what you want to do, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect.” He pecked a kiss on your cheek, pulling you along after him. “So. Has a man ever cooked for you?”

You shook your head, Russell frowning. You yelped when he picked you up and sat you on the kitchen counter, caging you in with his muscular arms on either side.

“Alright then Y/N Y/L/N. I’m about to make you the best goddamn lunch of your life.” Before he could move, you wrapped your legs tight around his waist, keeping him so, so close. Russell’s gaze turned heated, eyes darkening. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you breathed out, Russell leaning in close.

“Don’t take me unless you plan on keeping me. Based on our previous conversation, we are not there.” Slowly, you unhooked your legs, Russell straightening, looking you up and down, eyes no less dark.

“Russ?” He stared at you, licking his lips.

“Fuck it.”

And then he slammed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away in the goddamn best kiss of your life.

_________

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#Russell Shaw #Russell Shaw x reader #russell shaw fanfiction #tracker fanfiction #Tracker #russell shaw x you #Russell Shaw series

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mygnolia · 5 months ago

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love is in the (chilly) air | psh

pair: figure skater!sunghoon x gn!reader (inspired by en-o-clock ep 20) | g: fluff, bit of angst, comfort, humor! figure skating au | wc: 1.6k | cw: insecurities about sunghoon choosing you or his love for the ice, no injuries but a soft landing in the snow, cheesy cheesy couples (why can’t we have nice things)

a/n: if you recognize this it's because i revamped it! I wanted to add more, and change a few things. still a personal fave <3

“I’m going to look like an idiot, hoon.” you mumble, fumbling with the zipper of your jacket before looking up to witness his reaction.

your boyfriend tries his best to convince you to join him.

“you won’t,” he argues, and you feel your heart flutter. “you never have.” sunghoon’s words are spoken in earnest, and while they make you realize how lucky you are, they do little to calm your nerves.

still, you doubtfully consider your choices, and sunghoon can sense your hesitation from a mile away. “okay, how about this,” he proposes, holding both of your hands in his and leaning down to make eye contact with you. “i’ll show you the basics, and if you still don’t want to, we can go back home.” you honestly don’t want to go home now that you’re already bundled in your crisp clothes- you want to see sunghoon having the time of his life, but you also want to preserve your dignity.

this idea is better, you think, and after what feels like years, you nod. a bright grin lights up on the boy’s face, and he excitedly drags out outside to the sidewalk. “it’s snowing.” you mutter, trying to find any excuse to go back.

“if snow was…” sunghoon trails off, letting out an excited ‘oh!’ once he knows what he would have said. “if snow was an indicator for how much i love you, it would be a blizzard in my heart.” he declares, smiling as he drags you along the bustling streets. he seems proud of himself for an analogy so romantic, and you hand it to him in your head. he knows just how to make you feel special all the time.

you tell him, however, for the sake of having fun, “for me, it would be midsummer.”

“you wound me.”

“it’s what i do best.” you deadpan, smiling nonetheless.

sunghoon frowns dramatically and lets go of your gloved hand to cross his arms. “you’re terrible!” he retorts, starting to walk faster and leaving a trail of booted footprints. “all i want to do is shower you in my love and affection and then you pretend you’re not in love with me.” he declares, placing the false narrative that you do not reciprocate his feelings. you smile at his antics, reaching to fluff up his hair before grabbing his bicep, intertwining your fingers and leaning on his shoulder when you finally catch up to him.

“i do love you, sunghoon.” you murmur. the boy beside you smiles when he hears it.

“i know.” he says, a smug look on his face. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

scowling, you take your hand out of his pocket. “you m-“ sunghoon shushes you immediately, raising his eyebrows as he watches your confused expression morph into a concerned one.

“what?”

he smiles before kissing your forehead. “i just wanted to say i love you too, silly.” he rolls his eyes, and continues along the path.

by the time you reach the park, and venture past the playground to the lake that’s frozen over, sunghoon reaches inside the bag he’s been carrying and pulls out two pairs of ice skates, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “come on.” he tells you, and starts to put on the skates as quickly as he can. “you promised.” you didn’t, but you also can’t afford to see your boyfriend so dejected if you disagree.

the ice makes you feel like bambi. how does sunghoon do this three times a week? he grabs your flailing arms, laugh as he holds you close. “i got you.” he reassures, a happy grin on his features. when you look up, you realize that there’s nothing sunghoon loves more in this world than you, and the ice.

ever since the daunting young age of six, the boy’s found solace in the frozen surfaces he glides across. but amongst the trophies, medals, and perfect scores across the board, however, he’s found room in his heart to accommodate you, someone who he can’t remember a life without, and as he patiently guides you across the slippery planes of his love and adoration, you can’t help but fall more in love with him.

“hey! are you even skating anymore?” he playfully scolds you, letting go of your arms unexpectedly. the lack of support renders you a fumbling mess as your shift in balance almost causes you to topple over, face first into the frozen water. instead, you fall towards your boyfriend, who holds you tight and lets you regain your balance. “easy there, tiger. don’t want you to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

“oh my god, i think i just saw my life flash before my eyes.” you tell him, ghastly look on your face, and sunghoon giggles at your reaction. he smooths out your hair the best he can with his gloves on, running his fingers through your locks and stopping to pat your head.

he switches to a different topic. “are you okay, though? you were zoning out and i wasn’t sure what to do.” he confesses sheepishly. your eyes widen before you nod vigorously.

“yes-yes, i’m fine.” you reassure him, but your words seem to fall on deaf ears as he looks at you worriedly. “it’s embarrassing if i tell you what i was thinking about!” you defend.

“say it.” he prompts you. you sigh defeatedly.

“i just think you’re so cool across the ice, hoon, and sometimes i wonder why you decided to even love me when all you needed was figure skating. like, you’ve gone for so long doing this,” you stop to motion at the ground where the indents lay in the marks of the ice. “and you’ve perfected it, so sometimes, it feels like i have this unknowing competition between me and skating, and i’m worried you’ll have to choose someday.”

he hums at your words, soaking in your insecurities before reaching to hold you close. “i think that i’ll never be able to choose. you make me happy in a different way than figure skating does, y’know? I feel passionate when i skate, and i feel like i’m always chasing towards something better.” he pauses, and his hot breath materializes in the white air. “with you, though, i feel like i’ve finally been able to sit down, and take a break. i feel like you make me realize it is not so hard to be with the thing you love, and of course our relationship takes effort. but it’s a different kind of effort. it’s not the effort I have to force myself to wake up to do sometimes. i’ve skated for years on end, but you make me feel whole, you make me understand some of the best things i can about myself, and make me feel like i can carry the world in the weird way that ice can’t. loving you is one of the easiest things i’ve done.” he says it all in this genuine way that you know and love about him. sunghoon’s an open book- you know when he’s mad but you know when he’s honest, and right now is one of those moments where you’ve seen him bear his heart on his sleeve, just for you. your love for him is boundless, and you feel like you can never truly stop caring for a boy like him.

sunghoon’s cute when he rambles. sunghoon’s also the love of your life, and sunghoon makes you feel special. all you can do is smile through your teary eyes and kiss him as the snow slowly descends from the sky and you loop your arms around his neck. “thank you,” you whisper, the white air puffing into his cheeks. “thank you, sunghoon.” it’s a tender feeling, to hold him so close, and to feel so warm despite the cold weather.

there’s just one key component you’re missing. your balance here is terrible.

you let out a yelp as you feel yourself start to tip over and bring sunghoon down with you- the boy scrambling to ground himself as he eases your fall. thankfully, you land in the snow, and both the cushioning and your boyfriend’s grip eases your head on the way down. “alright.” you say, wiping off the snow that’s gotten on you. “i’m done for the day. or the month, or year.”

you sit on the ground and watch sunghoon travel across the frozen surface, with an elated smile on his face and a professionalism that meshes together into an adorable childlike wonder. you marvel at his skill, eyes following every twist and turn, even as he does a triple axel out of nowhere. “that’s not fair!” you cry out. “you’re just showing off, now.” he laughs before doing another spin.

the boy makes his way over, catching his breath as he sits beside you. he lets his head fall into your lap, and you take the opportunity to comb through his hair. “yes.” he says out of nowhere, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. he continues. “i was showing off.”

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi there!! i have a request for youuuu

could you maybe do spencer x bau!reader where the reader is a year clean from self-injury and they have like a little get together with the whole team for it (the original crew, season 2) and everything is happy and okay lol

THANK YOU SM!! i am in need of comfort

Hi lovely! Slight betrayal of the prompt because it's been forever since I watched the show with Gideon instead of Rossi, so I hope that's alright. Thank you for requesting honey, I really hope you're doing well <3

cw: implied past self-harm

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 1k words

These cooking classes at Rossi’s are becoming a semi-regular event. He always claims it's because every one of you could seriously use the help, but he doesn’t really bother selling the lie to your team of profilers. You all just want to spend time together, and he’s nice enough to host.

“You’re way too excited.” Amusement livens Spencer’s tone as you practically skip up the steps of Rossi’s too-large house.

“You’re just jealous,” you say, “that last time Rossi called me his star student and said your gnocchi was as good as mashed potatoes.”

“They’re not really very different from mashed potatoes,” Spencer mutters, but his hand is fond on the small of your back as he reaches past you to ring the doorbell.

JJ is the one who comes to the door. “Hi!” She pulls you in for a hug, giving your shoulder blades a happy squeeze.

“Hi,” you say back, slightly bemused. JJ is a hugger, but usually only on special occasions. You saw her just yesterday.

Spencer rubs a gentle back-and-forth just below your waist at your confusion, encouraging you through the door. “Hi,” he says. “Did you guys start already? It smells like garlic.”

“Rossi pre-made garlic knots.” JJ rolls her eyes, leading the way to the kitchen. “He said he didn’t want to give us the chance to botch it.”

You laugh. “Course he did. At least we won’t all be salivating and trying to eat ingredients this time.”

“See, she knows exactly what I mean,” Rossi gestures to you as you enter the kitchen. “That’s why you’re my star pupil.”

You blush at the rare praise, and Prentiss and Morgan both stand.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Morgan pulls you away from Spencer and into a one-armed hug. You pat him awkwardly on the back. “Glad you came.”

“Of course I came,” you laugh as Prentiss comes over with a glass of wine. “Thanks, Em.”

“Cheers.” She clinks the rim of her glass against yours, oddly smiley. You shoot Spencer a look which he very conveniently misses, and suspicion twitches to life in your head.

“Cheers,” you echo. “So, what’re we making?”

“Lasagna,” Morgan says. “But according to Rossi, it’s extra Italian.”

“It’s lasagne al forno,” Rossi corrects him, pinching his fingers and bopping his hand up and down with each syllable, and you have to suppress a smile at how completely unironic the gesture is.

“It’s beef lasagna,” Prentiss simplifies, ignoring the look of offense the old man shoots her way as Garcia comes in the door.

“Hello, hello!” She beelines for you, wrapping you in a tight, warm hug. “Ugh, I’m so proud of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” you tell her, more and more confident you know what’s going on. “How are you?”

“I’m amazing.” Garcia releases you but not really, taking one of your hands in both of hers and squeezing. Her eyes are downright twinkly with cheer. “Positively sublime, my friend. Ready to do some cooking!”

“Same here.” You smile, squeezing back. “I’m just going to go wash my hands really quickly.”

You don’t have to look behind you to know Spencer is trailing you. He’s hardly left you alone all day, relentless in his doting. You’d thought he was just in one of his more affectionate moods, but now it’s clear why.

For a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom is the smooth sound of water running out of the faucet. Spencer brushes past you to get to the soap, and you push your long sleeves up so they won’t get wet. “You know what today is?” you ask him.

You can feel him looking at you in the mirror, but you keep your eyes on your hands as you lather soap between your palms.

“Of course I do,” he says softly.

“Does everybody know?”

Spencer rinses his hands, drying them on the towel. “I think so. I didn’t tell them, but I’m sure they remembered the same as I did.” His hand finds the crook of your elbow, thumb damp where it slides over a fine white line just under the edge of your sleeve. The contact isn’t anything special; it’s gentle like all Spencer’s touches, an offhand brush of his skin against yours like there’s nothing wrong with you at all. Your throat clogs unfairly. “It’s an important thing, you know?”

“For me it is.” Your voice is smaller than you’d like it to be. You stick your hands under the faucet, relishing the feel of the hot water. “I didn’t expect anyone else to remember, though. It’s kind of…I mean, it’s just a year of doing nothing.”

“It’s not.” Spencer’s palm slides up the length of your arm to your shoulder blade. He rubs between them, quiet until you meet his eyes in the mirror. “It’s not,” he repeats, gently emphatic. “It’s a year of not doing something, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you. It’s an accomplishment, honey. You should get to celebrate.”

“Wait.” You narrow your eyes, a new suspicion taking root. “Is this…are we here tonight because…” You feel silly for even asking, and your gaze drops back to your hands as you dry them on the towel. “Because of my thing?”

Spencer shrugs, borderline sheepish. “I mean, not exactly. We did all want to be with you tonight, but everyone knew you wouldn’t want a party or anything. So it’s more…more of an excuse, really.”

You sigh, turning and resting your head on Spencer’s chest. “How am I supposed to react to that?” you ask him, voice fragile.

His hand comes to rest on the top of your head, a grounding weight as the other continues rubbing diligently between your shoulders. “You don’t have to,” he says. “You’re allowed to feel any way you need to, everybody knows that. They all just want you to know they’re proud of you.” He slides the hand on your head down to cup your face, working your face away from his chest to look you in the eyes. His smile is small but brimming with an affection too big for words. “You’ve been doing really great, you know that?”

You laugh a little, pressing your knuckles under your eyes to dry your lashes of tears that never fell. “Thanks, Spence. For everything.”

“Hey, you did all the work,” he tells you, hand finding its spot on your back again as you lead the way out of the bathroom. “We’re just happy you did it.”

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moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

Text

Hurt

Summary: 2.7k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: descriptions of injuries, medical procedures, mentions of surgery, medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort.

AN: Next part is the last part... It's a beefy one though.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

Simon is scared, more then he has ever been. He’s watching his husband bleeding out while someone else he loves is trying her best to save him. She’s no combat medic but as soon as Johnny’s body hit the floor she was by his side shoving her gauze covered fingers into his wounds. She barked orders at Price while he called an ambulance.

“Ambulance should be here in 15 minutes.” Price says his phone still pressed up to his ear keeping the dispatchers updated. Gaz has been running round the house looking for first-aid kits, clean sheets anything she can use to make bandages. Her hands are shaking blood running down her face. Johnny nicked her ear when he shot at Jack, could have been worse at least he’s down.

Ghost is angry, pacing the room his eyes burning into Jack wondering which would be more satisfying to break his legs or his arms? Ghost is listening to every word Price is saying waiting for new orders. It’s easier to be Ghost then Simon right now.

“Here, I’ve got this!” Gaz says as he rushes back in the room. Price helps him open the green first aid kit pulling out bandages and handing them to you.

“How long until the ambulance?” you ask your voice shaking, as you instruct Gaz to keep watching Johnny’s breathing.

“They’re coming.” Price replies not giving a time. A lump forms in Ghost’s throat he swallows to get it away. Price moves over to stand next to him.

“Pass me your phone I need to call someone to deal with all this.” Price says leaning in. Ghost reaches into his vest pulling out his phone passing it to Price. He pats Ghost on the shoulder then moves back to the other side of the room. A moan comes from the floor, Ghost’s head snaps to see Soap moving. That’s good right.

“Hey, Johnny keep still.” You say as his arms make their way to the source of the pain. “Keep his head still.” You say to Gaz. He was shot in the back he could have spinal damage. Gaz moves so he can hold Johnny’s head. He’s come too that has to be a good thing you think as you he moans. There is no telling how aware he is but he know’s he’s in pain. You have to fight to keep his hands away so he won’t pull the dressing out. He’s mumbling incoherently as you hear the ambulance sirens that makes you relax a little.

“Ghost go get them.” Price says, you hear Simon leave the room. You look over at Jack. He’s stopped screaming and shouting. Price patched his shoulder up he should be fine. He should be dead. You push the thought away you need to focus on Johnny. His hand has found your thigh, you reach down with your free hand to squeeze it. His eyes find yours and he smiles as you hear footsteps running. The door bursts open and paramedics flood in. You hear Price hang up on the dispatcher as two of them come over to you.

“What’s happened?” The male one says as he bends down opposite you unzipping his bag.

“He was shot from behind, through and through. I’ve tried my best to stop the bleeding.” You explain squeezing Johnny’s hand, you hear more sirens as Simon leaves the room again. The paramedic is trying to get Johnny’s attention as the second paramedic comes to take over holding the gauze from you.

You let go of Johnny’s hand moving out the way as the paramedics talk with each other. You stand up as another set of paramedics and police pile into the room. Price goes over to talk to the police as he points the other paramedics over to Jack. You turn and watch as they look at his shoulder. Gaz gets up on his feet as you watch the paramedics work on Johnny, getting an IV in, giving him oxygen, pressing more bandages into his wound.

Your cheek starts stinging and it takes everything in your power to not touch it. Gaz comes over to you leading you out of the way and over to a chair, Simon and Price are talking with the police. Everything was starting to feel like a blur. You look down you’re sat next to Marks body, you keep watching the paramedics work on Johnny and Jack.

You hear the paramedics say there is a doctor here for Johnny. You can see biased on the equipment he’s hanging on. He’s put under and they intubate him. The doctor arrives a few seconds later he wants to do an en-route blood transfusion. Jack leaves first with the other ambulance crew and some officers following behind. He’s formally arrested, his eyes burn into you as you hear the charges read out. The rest of the officers start collecting evidence.

“Do you need medical attention?” Someone says to you. You look up from Johnny to see an officer stood beside you. You shake your head looking back as the paramedics move Johnny onto a spinal board. Simon is by your side now. You’re crying, each tear that falls in your wound stings. At least the bleeding as stopped you think.

“Go with Johnny to the hospital and get patched up. We’ll meet you there as soon as we’re done here.” Simon says. You can’t look at him, not with his mask on not while Johnny is still fighting for his life. You get up off the chair though and he squeezes your shoulder. You look round the room as you follow the paramedics out. Jack is gone, Mark is dead. The body in the hallway the person who shot Johnny has been moved and covered up. You look at Price who nods at you then goes back to talking to the officers. Ghost follows you out to the ambulance. You get in the front, you don’t even remember the drive.

——————————

Your body moves on autopilot. When you make it to the hospital Johnny is taken through to triage. You’re in the waiting room, you refuse help from the nurse who comes to see you. You just sit and wait, using tissues to dab your wound, if you move in the wrong way it starts bleeding again. You’ll need stitches but you want to make sure Johnny is okay first. You don’t want to miss the updates. You need to be somewhere Simon can find you when he gets here. You’re waiting nervously when a doctor comes over to you, he introduces himself and you stand up.

“We’re going to be taking him through to surgery, to remove the bullet fragments. We won’t know the extent of the damage until after we can open him up. I’ll send a nurse through to take a look at your face, you were also involved in the attack from what I understand?” You nod not having the energy to fight with him.

“I’m okay, I would like to wait for-” you stop yourself, what do you even say? You want to wait for his husband? For Price and Gaz who you barely even know. How much does the doctor know? You realise you’ve not been paying attention to whats been going on since you were hands deep in Johnny’s abdomen.

“The other people involved in the incident, they’re his squad mates, from the army. They would like to know he’s okay.”

“I can update them as well if you give me their names but I do think that wound needs looking at, cleaned and bandaged up at the very least.” The doctor says. You don’t want to you don’t want anyone to touch you.

“I would rather wait.” You say sitting back down. The doctor relents and tells you someone will be out to update you. You feel sick your stomach in knots. You wish you had your phone so you could text Simon. You don’t know how long Simon is going to be or how long Johnny’s surgery is going to take. He’s going to be okay. You tell yourself.

He’s going to be okay.

——————————

You’re woken to someone shaking you. You don’t even remember falling asleep it makes you jump and you almost fall out the chair. You look up it’s Simon, he doesn’t have his mask on. You look at him confused the pain coming back to your face.

“You need to get that checked out.” Simon says kneeling down in front of you.

“Johnny’s in surgery.” You say.

“I know, the doctor filled us in, Price is talking with him now.” You touch Simon’s cheek.

“I’m sorry I got Johnny hurt.” You say, you’re too exhausted to cry.

“It’s not your fault.” Simon says reaching up holding your hand on his chin squeezing it. He stands up.

“C’mon, Price bullied the doctors into finding a private room for Johnny, we’ll wait in there. And I’ll find a nurse to take a look at that cheek.” Simon says. You let him lead you too your feet as he wraps his arm round your waist. When you make it to the room it’s nice even has a sofa in the corner which Simon leads you too. He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a nurse who cleans your wound. She says it’s going to need stitches, you reluctantly allow her to do them. By the time she is done and bandaging your ear and cheek up Price walks into the room.

“The police need a statement from you.” He says looking at you. You look at the nurse and thank her as she tides up to leave.

“Christ, can’t she have a rest they can talk to her tomorrow.” Simon says from the other sofa on the other side of the room.

“It’s just a statement 5 minutes tops. They’ll bring you in for a proper interview later in the week.” Price says. You nod getting off the bed heading back over to the sofa where Simon is. You lay up against him he wraps his arm round your shoulder.

“Thank you for rescuing me.” You say. He kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, we should have stayed at the house with you.” He says. You can hear the guilt in his voice. You don’t know what he’s more guilty about. You being kidnapped or Johnny being shot. You don’t want to leave his side wrapping your arms round his stomach. When the police officers come in they ask you a few questions take a quick statement then leave.

You see Price and Gaz at the door. You’re exhausted leaning on Simon’s chest. You pull your feet on the sofa a shiver runs through your body. You close your eyes breathing Simon in but all you can smell is blood.

——————————

Simon looks over at you still asleep on the sofa tucked under the blanket he threw over you. They wheeled Johnny in from surgery a bit ago, said he might need a few minutes to come round. Simon moved from the sofa to a chair by the bed so he could hold Johnny’s hand.

He hates seeing Johnny like this, he hates seeing him hurt. His eyes periodically flick back to you, what if Johnny’s vest didn’t stop the bullet. What if it kept going all the way through to you. Simon pushes the thought away, he can’t think about that, losing the both of you is just too much. You’re safe, Johnny is safe, he’s safe. Johnny murmurs and Simon’s head snaps up, he sits up pulling his chair closer to the bed and squeezing Johnny’s hand.

“Hey,” Simon says as Johnny turns to look at him blinking.

“Christ, I feel like shit.” Johnny says pulling himself up in the bed. Simon gets up helping him arrange the pillows.

“Stop getting shot then.” Simon says, Johnny smiles leaning back down in the bed. Simon kisses him on the forehead before sitting back down. Johnny looks past Simon to see you curled up on the sofa.

“How is she?” He asks, Simon looks back for a second squeezing Johnny’s hand.

“She’s fine.” Simon says, Johnny sighs.

“What about..” Johnny trails off, Simon knows who he’s talking about.

“In custody, he’ll live.” Simon says.

“Should have aimed for the head.” Johnny says. Simon smiles, if he had aimed for the head he could have killed her.

“How ‘bout you? You good?.” Johnny asks, Simon rolls his eyes, bringing up Johnny’s hand and kissing it.

“I’m good.” Simon says, Johnny looks doubtful. Simon Squeezes his hand, looking away, he’ll deal with his emotions later.

“Si,” Johnny says forcing his eyes to meet Simon’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too Johnny.” Simon says smiling.

“Johnny?” Your voice cuts through the silence and Simon turns to see you sitting up on the sofa. He gets up bringing over another chair for you.

“Good to see you lass.” Johnny says enthusiastically, he’s awake and smiling. It’s all you need walking over to him and throwing your arms round him.

“Easy love, still got holes in me.” Johnny says wrapping his arms round your back.

“I know I’m so sorry.” You blurt out you can feel yourself welling up again. It’s happy tears this time. You feel Simon’s hand on your back as you pull away.

“You ain’t got anything to be sorry ‘bout.” Johnny says his face serious.

“We’re sorry we left ya, didn’t think anyone knew where you were.” Johnny says. Simon’s hand leaves your back pulling on your wrist for you to sit down. You look at Simon, he looks tired. You take his hand and squeeze it.

“I should have fought, you gave me the gun.” You say looking at Simon. “I tried to run instead.”

“It doesn’t matter now, you’re safe he’s gone.” Simon says. You know there is more to it, with so many people involved it’ll be a while before their all punished. You’re almost happy Chloe isn’t around to see it. She would have had a lot to say watching her family be arrested and court marshalled for their involvement. You take Johnny’s hand in yours rubbing it with your thumb.

“Thank you for saving my life love.” He says pulling you back to relativity, you feel yourself blushing.

“Well I wasn’t going to let you die.” You say feeling embarrassed for some reason. Johnny brings your hand up to his face and kisses it.

“I know, I love you.” He says. It warms your heart and you find yourself leaning up against Simon. You smile at him as Simon wraps his arm around you kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too.” You say.

“So how much medical leave do you think I’ll get this time?” Johnny asks looking at Simon.

“Pff, with the way you’re acting I bet you’ll be ready to go by next week.” Simon scoffs.

“Aw, not even a week, you’re such a tight ass. You hearing this captain. Si said I’m only allowed a week off.” Johnny says as you see Price walk into the room. You sit up straight so you’re not leaning on Simon.

“If you’re lucky.” Price smiles. Johnny shakes his head and you squeeze his hand.

“Well then, making sure I’m fit and ready for duty?” Johnny asks.

“Thought I would give you an update.” Price says crossing his arms.

“Jack, he’s out.” It’s like someone sucked all the air out the room, your head starts to throb where you were hit earlier. You squeeze Johnny’s hand.

“How? It’s only been a few hours.” Simon asks.

“His lawyers work quick and they’re good.” Price says, he sounds sympathetic.

“But he kidnapped me, what about all the evidence you got?” You say looking up at Price, eyes wide. This can’t be happening.

“They did a good job at destroying it all, it’s going to take the police time to go through everything.” Price says. You feel sick, no way he’s going to get away with it. No way. Your ears start ringing as you hear Johnny and Simon talk asking questions Price does not have the answers to.

This can’t be happening.

——————————

I am very much aware that the police would have reasonable evidence to hold Jack and not let him out but hey it's just a story.

# fuckjack

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deadhands69 · 1 month ago

Text

Something More [than a storm]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: this series contains smut, angst, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, swearing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - this is part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Overnight, the snow accumulated four feet against the doors. With the few heat related quirks around the building, you aren't really trapped but no one has bothered to clear the way, enjoying the snow day instead. Even with everyone milling about the common space, a hush surrounds everything. It's pretty calming.

“You think Professor Aizawa still walks his cats in this,“ Mina muses, sipping her second hot chocolate of the day.

“Probably just the really fluffy ones,” Jiro answers, “did you see Shinso’s arms that time he tried to take them in the rain?”

The three of you laugh, posted up in your usual corner of the common room near an almost completely whited-out window. Happily, you savor the first good cup of coffee you've had in days.

A gust of wind takes the top layer of snow away and your mind drifts to the forest with it.

Everything seemed to happen so naturally last night but in the clear light of day, you aren't sure how you feel anymore. He’s beautiful and hot, sure, but being around him means having to deal with him. You know how sharp his words can get. But kissing Bakugo, if that’s what you’d call it, was nice. Maybe that’s all it has to be.

Your friends are staring at you.

“Uhm [y/n], you okay?” Jiro asks.

Shit.

“Can I tell you guys a secret?” you whisper, immediately regretting it.

“You can,” Mina teases, lightly elbowing your side, “but I think we already know who your secret is.”

“You didn't...” Jiro’s wide eyes are locked on you.

Silently, you wish the blizzard would swallow you whole.

“It's not like that,” you mumble, “not quite at least.”

The pink face to your left closes in on you, “Go on.”

“Last night, I kissed him. Or he kissed me. Well, more bit me...” you trail off, knowing your words won’t do any justice to the story.

“He…bit you?” Mina asks as Jiro cringes next to her. “That’s interesting.”

“No, it was cute. I think?” they have you second guessing yourself, maybe it is a bit weird. You tell them what happened. How he fell and landed on you (they both agree that had to be on purpose, having never seen him trip over anything before.) When you get to the kiss part, you’re still not sure how to explain it.

“I’m not sure what else you would expect from Bakugo, he’s kind of a weird guy,” says Jiro.

“Yeah, and I mean that’s why I told him to hang out with you. I thought you’d hit it off as friends but I guess I’m not surprised. That story kind of fits you both,” Mina adds.

“Fits us both?” you ask.

“Let’s be honest [y/n], if anyone got all cutesy and romantic with you, you would run,” Jiro laughs.

Across the room, Bakugo eyes your group giggling as you bury your face in your hands. Suddenly your phone vibrates.

Bakugo [Don't make a big deal out of it.] Bakugo [I know what you’re talking about.] You [don’t make a big deal of Aizawa walking his cats in the snow?] Bakugo [Oh.] Bakugo [That tracks.] You [🙄] Bakugo [If you wanna impress him, let’s get a good grade. We still have to do the written part of the project.] Bakugo [Preferably sooner rather than later. You free tonight?] You [nope, verrrryyy busy] Bakugo [wtf do you have going on?] You [sunbathing] You [rooftop bars] You [yeah, tonight works] Bakugo [🙄] Bakugo [my room?] You [yeah, 7pm?] Bakugo [That works.] Bakugo [Oh, and don’t drink too much.] You [?] Bakugo [Soy Sauce and Dunce Face just walked in with a case of liquor.]

As you could have predicted, the vibe shifted quickly. Kaminari approached your table with a bottle of Rumplemintz, topping off everyone’s drinks but yours (he offered but you kept your hand firmly planted over your coffee.) Not drinking would be easy with your recent hangover still fresh in your mind.

Within the hour the volume had doubled. The boisterousness spread both in and outside, a snowball fight breaking out in the afternoon.

After you are all sufficiently soaked through your winter clothes, you head inside to shower, change, and eat something warm.

Both of your friends are a bit tipsy and opt to head back to their rooms after dinner rather than drinking more. Jiro warning you to not do anything stupid while Mina agrees with her before winking over her shoulder as they leave. The common room has calmed down quite a bit when you go back to your dorm to get ready.

Get ready for what? You wonder how awkward the situation you're walking into will be. Will he just ignore what happened? Part of you hopes so, another part of you - no, let's not think about that. You’re still coming around to the idea of tolerating him, best not to let your mind wander too far. It was a one time thing specific to the situation and that’s enough.

Walking the fine line between overdressed and what Bakugo would consider too frumpy, you opt to wear skinny jeans, boots, and an oversized sweater. Touching your makeup up slightly, grabbing your backpack, then you're out the door.

You vaguely know which room he is in but were glad when he texted you the number just in case. Arriving at his door three minutes early, you knock hesitantly. He opens quickly, ushering you in.

Dark.

Blackout curtains block the light from outside with a few lamps here and there to illuminate his room. This can only do so much when nearly all of his furniture and bedding are stark black. His decor is minimalist. Everything is perfectly in order, even the notes on his desk are organized. You weren’t sure what to expect but somehow it fits him.

He pulls up an extra chair by his desk, gesturing for you to sit then the two of you get to work.

Much to your delight (or dismay?), he never mentions the kiss. Carrying on relatively professionally outside of a few jokes here and there.

You’re still nervous.

Once more, his proximity makes your heart rate skyrocket. Sitting this close to him, the two of you bumping into each other every time you need to grab notes from across the desk. It’s not lost on you - the way his bare wrists feel brushing over your knuckles. His warm skin leaves tingles on yours. This is also the first time you’ve gotten a good look at him in a tank top, having to stop yourself from staring at the dragon tattoo covering his scarred right arm. In spite of the distractions, the work is easy - it’s just a matter of putting it on paper. You get through it.

“Done,” you sigh in relief after typing out the final paragraph.

In one quick hour, you finished the project you’d been dragging out for weeks.

“Looks good to me,” he confirms, standing to stretch. “I kinda thought we’d be working on this for longer, what are your plans for the rest of the night?”

Admittedly, you have no plans. It’s a little after eight and you were more than caught up on sleep. Normally, you’d text your friends but everyone is passed out by now. Almost everyone.

Packing your backpack, you mention a scary movie you’d been meaning to watch.

“No shit?” he laughs, “I rented that one last night and fell asleep right after I started it. There’s still a few more hours on the rental if you wanna watch it?”

Watch a movie alone in his dark room…with him? Seems like a normal friend thing to do, you reassure yourself before answering, “yeah.”

About 45 minutes in, you both realize your mistake. The movie you thought was a thriller turned out to be a romance drama. You’d both misinterpreted the title and quick preview then spent the first half waiting for the killer to show up. After a while, you finally said something and he looked up a synopsis. Neither of you moved to turn it off, opting to talk instead, and tuning back in every once in a while to make fun of the overdramatic plot.

“How’d everything heal?” he eventually asks after catching a glimpse of your wrist as you adjust your sleeve.

“Healed fine,” you pull your sweater off to show him before remembering how revealing the tank top you threw on underneath is. Momentarily, you pause then decide it doesn’t really matter. It’s a snow day movie night, there’s not exactly a dress code. And it’s not a big deal, you’re just showing a friend a scar. People do that.

If he does notice, he does a great job hiding it.

“Did heal well,“ he mumbles, running his fingers along your back, “it doesn’t hurt, right?”

“Nope.” You’re both silent for a while, trying hard to look engrossed in the movie as one of the characters drops to their knees crying in the rain. All you can think about is the thrilling feeling of his hand still lingering on your back. The credits roll but neither of you could recount what happened if asked.

“Well, that was stupid,” he says, slamming his laptop shut.

“And really misleading, they should give us two hours of our lives back for that,” you laugh.

“Nah, just the first. The rest is kinda on us. We could’ve found something better to do,” his hand slides to the small of your back.

“Oh yeah?” you ask leaning towards him, unsure again why you’re flirting with Katsuki Bakugo.

“Yeah,” he smiles widely before leaning in to kiss you. Pressing you back onto his bed, this time with less (but still some) teeth. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling as your mouth opens wide for him. Your tongues meet. He tastes like a snow day: vanilla, mint, and bad decisions.

His other hand grips your hip, pulling you closer as he grinds you against his leg. You gasp out a moan before realizing what happened.

Are you about to become one of the girls you make fun of who ends up in his bed only to be forgotten in the morning?

Fuck.

No, you’re not.

Pushing away, you jump up and run out the door.

part 5 m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki

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