#or face serious consequences for not following orders to use torture

[off-brand-likes]

Also, that overly-positive-on-torture media is missing out on great opportunities to make fictional torturers realistically miserable and pathetic! If you have the spoons to read about real, difficult issues, check this out:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/storyline/wp/2014/12/11/this-is-how-it-feels-to-torture/

kind of wild how much fiction still treats torture as something that objectively works when every study has shown that it does not work at all and is possibly the least effective way to get correct information

[cocostyles]

Let her go — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem uchiha reader!

word count: 1457 k

summary: You decide to leave Konoha

warnings; angst, english is not my first language.

part one

The days following Naruto's betrayal were a torture. You couldn't leave your house, yet you hated it. You hated that your bed smelled like him, and that every corner of the house held memories of when you were happy, haunting you. You hadn’t spoken to anyone else, not even Sakura, your childhood friend, who you thought was one of the few people who understood the weight of what you were facing. After all, you needed space, a break from everything that reminded you of him and the relationship with the man you thought would become your husband—one that ended when you least expected it.

That’s when you decided to leave the village. Not as an escape, but as an act of self-love. You needed to rest from everything, and most importantly, from him. So, without giving yourself time to regret it, you packed the essentials and left a note for the few who needed to know, including Kakashi, who had always been a father figure and wise mentor in your life. The idea of visiting Temari, an old friend from the Shinobi Alliance, seemed perfect. You knew she would welcome you with open arms in the Hidden Sand Village.

You left the village in the middle of the night, with no turning back.

The weight of guilt began to consume Naruto the moment he heard you were gone. He didn’t understand how it had gotten to this point. He had spent countless nights thinking about how to fix things between you, but always putting it off for tomorrow, for later. And now, "later" didn’t exist, because you were already gone.

That morning, when he entered his office with dark circles under his eyes and red-rimmed lids, the first thing he saw was the note you had left. A couple of lines sealing the goodbye, and between them, a deep pain that pierced his chest like a dagger. "I need some time, Naruto. I need to heal."

The Hokage stared at the letter, his hands trembling as he held it, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stay still while you were slipping away. Rage and pain merged into one feeling: desperation. He had to find you. It didn’t matter at what cost.

Without a second thought, he gave orders to use the village’s resources for an urgent mission. Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi would be sent to find you and bring you back—no matter what it took, he thought. He couldn’t lose you.

Before he could act, his three friends arrived at his office. All three looked at him seriously, their faces reflecting the same concern, though the tone of their words was something Naruto didn’t expect.

"Naruto, what are you doing?" Sasuke said firmly, crossing his arms as he approached, letting him know it was one of the stupidest ideas he had ever had, and that was saying a lot.

He wasn’t going to interfere because you had asked him not to, but the fury was boiling in his chest, ready to explode against his best friend. How dare he hurt his sister?

"What are you talking about, Sasuke? She’s gone, your sister! I need to find her!" Naruto replied, his voice shaking with frustration.

Kakashi intervened calmly, seeing Sasuke start to approach Naruto, as he always did, but this time his tone was more serious. He wasn’t happy with his student; you were like a daughter to him, and Naruto had messed up.

"You can’t use the village’s resources like this, Naruto. This isn’t an emergency mission. You need to think carefully before you act. I know lately you seem to be thinking with another head, but calm down and stop acting like a child. Face the consequences of your actions."

Sakura, seeing the chaos in Naruto’s eyes, put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. But her words were harsh, and Naruto felt them like a direct blow, as did all his friends.

"Naruto, you know. You’ve failed, and what she needs isn’t for you to chase her. She asked for space, and you have to respect that. You can’t force her to come back. Sometimes, love isn’t enough to heal what’s been broken. And that’s something you need to understand."

The Hokage was exhausted, emotionally overwhelmed. In his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what he had done wrong, about how he had failed you time and again. But those words, as harsh as they were necessary, made him think, even though he didn’t like them. Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi weren’t wrong.

"You can’t make her come back to your side just because you want it, Naruto" Kakashi continued, his voice calmer than before but still direct. "She left because she needed space to heal. And if there’s even an ounce of affection for her in you, you’ll have to give her that space, even though it hurts."

Naruto looked at his friends, his face filled with frustration and regret. For so long, he had been so focused on his role as Hokage that he had lost sight of what really mattered. He had taken for granted that the love of his life would always be there, waiting for him. And now that he needed her, he didn’t know how to reach her.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, his voice broken. "Just let her go? Let her leave without doing anything?"

Sasuke stepped forward, his face impassive, but there was a harshness in his words that left no room for doubt.

"It’s not that you have to do "nothing." But you need to learn to listen, Naruto. Sometimes, being the best ninja in the world doesn’t make you the best man, and it certainly doesn’t make you smart. You have to understand that what she needs now is time, and you’re not going to win her back by pressuring her. You failed yourself by not being there for her when she needed you most. Now, give my sister the respect she deserves at last"

Sakura nodded firmly, looking at Naruto with a bit of sadness in her eyes.

"Do whatever it takes to show you’re capable of changing, Naruto. But don’t do it at her expense. If you really want to get her back, start by being the man she deserves, not the one you’ve been until now."

Kakashi closed the conversation with a serious but conciliatory tone.

"You have to let her go, for now. And when the right time comes, when she’s healed, that will be when you can fight for her again. But not with urgency, nor desperation, but with the maturity you’ve lacked until now."

Naruto stayed silent. He didn’t know if he could bear to wait, but he understood what his friends were telling him. He had to be strong in a different way, a way he had never considered before. And maybe that was the hardest part of all.

With a deep sigh, Naruto nodded slowly.

"Alright. I won’t look for her... but I’m not giving up. I’m going to be better, not just for her, but for me."

Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi looked at him without saying anything more, knowing this was the first step. But they also knew that, in the end, only time would tell if Naruto could truly change enough to heal the wound he had caused himself.

And as they walked away, Naruto stayed alone in his office again, staring at the note in his hands. The road to redemption wouldn’t be easy, but at least now he knew he wasn’t alone on this journey.

The desert was vast and silent, but there was something comforting in its immensity. When you arrived in Suna, Temari was waiting for you at the main entrance. Her serious expression softened when she saw you, and without needing words, she hugged you tightly.

"Looks like you need more than just a change of air, huh?" Temari said with a touch of humor, trying to lighten the mood.

"Something like that" you replied with a faint smile, grateful that she wasn’t asking too many questions right away.

Temari took you to her home and, as always, was the perfect host. For the first few days, she let you rest and adapt to the peaceful, hot rhythm of the village. It wasn’t until the third night that you began to open up. You told her what had happened with Naruto, the pain of seeing him distance himself, and finally, the betrayal. Temari listened attentively, and while she wasn’t the emotional type, her presence was a balm for your wound.

"You’re stronger than you think" Temari said in the end. "This doesn’t define you. But you need time to find yourself."

It was then that she suggested you talk to her brother, Gaara. At first, you hesitated, but you remembered that he had always had a unique perspective on life and pain. His own story was a testament to how the deepest wounds could be transformed into something powerful.

Maybe you should try it...

[mentatemulator]

Observations on the Dead

Written for Vamptober prompt number 9 (yes, I'm doing them out of order)

Vampire who is still growing in their new fangs. It is approximately 1400 words long, or about 2 pages. It contains: Captivity Torture Starvation Mild Gore It's a good deal darker than my usual work, but I do hope you enjoy!

~

The hunter arose at sunset, as befit one of her profession. She made her ablutions as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind forested hills dusted with the first snow of winter. With care, she made a circuit of the safe-house's interior, ensuring the wards were still in place at every possible entrance. Religious symbols and sacred herbs could not stop an experienced vampire for long, but they bought precious time to prepare for an intrusion. Each had been ritually bound to her, so that their destruction would not go unnoticed. Unlikely that her quarry's sire would find her this far from the city, but precautions were still warranted.

Satisfied, she made her way to the kitchen and prepared a small pot of porridge. The provisions here were meager stuff, but it was better than the travel rations in her pack. A warm bowl of anything was preferable to hard tack and jerky. She ate her fill, cleaned the dishes, and then prepared herself for the night's ministrations.

She donned her vestments, tied back her hair, strapped her tools to her waist, and finally drew on long gloves of brown leather, studded here and there with dots of silver. Her neck was protected by a steel gorget, engraved with the symbols of her order. She took up her book of observations, lit a candle, and thus armed, descended into the basement.

The fine hardwood staircase gave way to a floor of cold stone. The air down here was damp, and smelled faintly of rot. She was unsure if moisture from outside was getting in, or if it was a consequence of all the bodily fluids. Wall sconces were lit from her candle as she passed, until she came to a lone door. It was heavy, made of thick beams of oak reinforced with steel. She produced an iron key, fit it to the lock, and pushed it open.

There was a scrabbling sound within, and the clink of chains. The hunter showed no concern, but set about lighting a pair of standing candelabras. As flame came alight, a form took shape in the center of the room: lanky and ragged, nude flesh covered with inflamed welts, unkempt hair hanging about its shoulders. Two faint red lights glared up at her.

The hunter considered her quarry carefully. It no longer looked at her with conscious hatred, had indeed progressed past even cowering fear, and now regarded her with simple animal hunger. There would be no more point in asking it questions, as she doubted it could still speak.

She placed her notebook on an old wooden lectern, opened it to a fresh page, and took up pen and ink to record this new development. The creature's eyes did not leave her even once as she did so. It shifted around, pulling at its chains, its budding canines visible in its open mouth. The previous night, it had been timid and obsequious, only rising from the floor when forced to, and otherwise kept its face to the black stone beneath it. It had groaned and begged, pleaded for a drink. Now it was restless, testing the limits of its captivity. A fascinating transformation.

The hunter rose again, and walked a slow circle around it. The thing followed her with its gaze, craning its neck painfully when it couldn't turn any further. She inspected the restraints. Neither collar nor wrist cuffs showed any serious wear, the advantage of using iron instead of silver. Given how young this one was, she had been concerned that prolonged silver exposure might kill it preemptively, and it wasn't yet strong enough to break chains of more ordinary metals.

She checked the deep cut she had made down its back, to gauge its ability to repair itself. Three nights in, and the scar was still visible. Hard to say for certain if the starvation was a factor in that. The marks from the most recent lashing were still quite stark. Otherwise, its skin remained supple and full, despite its deprivation.

As the hunter got closer to inspect its fingernails, its breathing grew heavy. It made an attempt to lunge at her, and she reflexively pulled back.

“Petulant beast, be still!” she snapped, “You'll have another taste of the cat, if you cannot behave.” It merely hissed at her, unhearing. She grabbed the end of the chain that held its collar, through an iron loop on the wall, and pulled. The thing's head was yanked upright and back, until the collar stuck fast against stone. It cried out and flailed, and the hunter noted that it fought with more strength than usual.

An older vampire in this state was exceedingly dangerous. Unlike something living, vampires became more powerful on the brink of starving, burning away their reserves and abandoning their reason in an attempt to secure a meal at any means. They'd been known to take unwary hunters in this way, breaking free and savaging their captor with beastly glee. But she had been fortunate enough to take this one while it was still weak, still growing into the full potential of its unbirth. It could not have been turned more than three months ago.

The hunter wished she could take another measurement of its adolescent fangs, but it would surely not behave for the procedure now, wits too dulled to respond to threats of punishment. She would have to destroy it soon, after some final observations. She released the chain, and stepped back.

The beast was growing frantic, straining against its restraints, desperate for a taste of her. It grunted and growled with frustration. The hunter ignored it, returning to the lectern to take more notes. As she scrawled out her observations, the thing's sounds grew more and more pained. It whined, it spat, it scraped its nascent claws against the stone tiles. The hunter was beginning to grow exasperated. She stood, and pulled the bullwhip from her belt. A bit of pain may quiet it for a time.

Then the creature suddenly went silent. Its ferocity became stillness, but the intensity of its stare remained. The hunter paused, wondering if perhaps the beast still had more wits than she had thought. Could it recognize that it was about to be punished?

Then the hunter felt a chill. She realized far too late that the shadows within the cell were growing darker, draining all the light from the room. She reached for the silver dagger at her waist, and spun towards the door. There had been no warning, and no sound, to mark the thwarting of her wards. The candles beyond the door had all been snuffed out.

“Reveal yourself, abomination!” she said while brandishing the dagger, trying to put the engraved holy symbols between herself and the intruding horror.

Long, clawed fingers clamped around her wrist. Her eyes snapped to it, and followed its pale arm back, already behind her, already in control.

“Drop,” came a voice like the stillness of a frozen corpse, and the hunter let her dagger fall to the floor.

“Very good,” its mocking praise seeped into her flesh, held her in rigor. She felt the press of its lifeless body to her back, as a second hand snaked up her front to hook a finger around her gorget.

“You've been keeping my pet from me,” it whispered into her ear, sending tremors down her spine, “and just look at the state of her.” It spun her around to face the chained creature, which was on its hands and knees, with a predatory grin on its face.

“I do believe you owe her a meal.”

The hunter was consumed by a vision of a fresh deer carcass, guts steaming in the snow, as a wolf tore meat away from its bones. Her mouth went dry.

“But you shall make your apologies to me, first. We have all night to feed my sweet pet.”

The finger grasping her gorget was pulled down, and the protective steel split apart like paper. Cold lips brushed the bare flesh of her neck. She tried to say something defiant, last words before her death agony began, but all that came out was a pitiful croak.

“Ah-ah, not a sound now. You will suffer me in silence. You will save your screams for her.”

She met the young one's eyes and held them as fangs burrowed into her flesh, and claws raked her belly. The cell was filled with the scent of fresh blood. Howls of pain died in her throat, forbidden to cross her tongue. The night was young, and the dead are not possessed of mercy.

[art-missy]

The Angel and The Hound (Gekko x Reader)

Me ? Trying a fantasy AU ? I guess so. My brain agreed to write this but threw a tantrum when I tried to continue a one shot left in my draft for more than six months...

Anyway, thousands of apologies in advance for my torturous grammar and dull writing.

In a world of fantasy and mystery, where the scent of adventure drew people in like light attracted insects, where naives and arrogant fools were constantly eaten, where treasures and glory were as common as misfortunes and villainy, you preferred to live like a hermite.

Well, semi-hermite actually. While you preferred to live away from civilization, you stayed close enough to know about the recent news in order to avoid problem from said civilization.

Living alone in the Forest of Valorant wasn't as terrible as some people might think. Yes, there were creatures that could pounce on you and use you like their meals or chew toys, insects that could take a bite of your skin or a sip of your blood. There were mud and increases of risks of landslides after rains, winters could be lethal, nights scary and unpredictable and the whole area seemed to be design for people's downfall.

But it was your home.

It was only you and nature. Fresh foods, fresh air, fresh water, fresh life. You were far from cities and towns, therefore far from people and you were consequently better. You would sometimes help lost adventurers or parties, heal the wounded, guide them until the closest town or city then went back to your home. These people wouldn't be able to find your house again anyway, it was hidden in a large tree and protected by an illusion. According to some random people, you were known as the 'Woods' Angel' by the inhabitants of surrounding towns and nearby cities.

Finding it cringey, you would glare at any person calling you by this title.

Even your friends Skye and Clove started calling you by that name. It was a tease at first, but the druids kept calling you that way even when serious, unfortunately for you.

But despite everything, your life was peaceful and almost uneventful.

Almost.

Strolling and picking berries, you were just minding your business when you noticed a dog, no, a hound following you around. You were used to woods creatures and animals and most of them were also used to you. When one would cross your path, it would either mind its business or be curious and follow you around for some minutes before going away. You were used to it and it wasn't a problem. Yet, this animal was peculiar. This hound was huge and strong, much bigger than a grey wolf. Its brown fur higlighted the lime-green tips of its perky ears and its wagging tail. And despite clearly being a predator, this hound was playful in a goofy way.

You never saw that hound before, which led to the conclusion that it wasn't from around the area since you would have had remember it.

"New here, buddy ?"

Its ears perked up at the sound of your voice. Its tail wagged in excitement as it ran in circles around you. It kept following you around during your daily stroll, always pulling stunts to attract your attention. You swore you saw its warm chocolate-brown irises shine in delight everytime your gaze would meet its eyes. When it understood you were looking for berries, it literally rooted out a bush for you. It then looked at you, its eyes sparkling with expectancy.

"Thanks, buddy !" you smiled, bending down to collect the berries.

It let out an excited bark and roll on his back in front of you. Snorting, you gave a few belly rubs to this excited ball of fur and eagerness. With one glance, you noticed that it was a male. You raised an eyebrow, and straightened your back, looking at the hound who straightened itself on its four paws. He was so big and so tall that it had to slightly tilt its head down to look at you properly.

"Where the heck are you from ?" you muttered to yourself.

It tilted its head then nuzzled its snout against your cheek, his breathing warming your face. It clearly didn't seem to want to give you an answer, just wanted to stay close to you. It followed you during the totality of your stroll, running around you, rolling in the ground and sometimes asking for caresses, or belly rubs. And when the sun started to set, the hound started to whine and to be more clingy.

"Sorry buddy, but it's getting late."

It howled sadly and clinged even more to you. You pushed its head away.

"The nights here are no friends. Don't you have a place to go back to ?"

Its ears perked at your words and its back straightened, as if remembering something. Then, it let go of you with a huff, head low and a sad whine escaping its mouth. It gave you last nuzzle with its snout then ran away far in the woods.

"What a strange hound."

Strange indeed. You had no idea what breed it could be, probably a crossbreed. And when you friends came in your house to visits, you couldn't help but talk about your strange encounter.

"Aww !" Clove cooed as you poured them a cup of tea. "You made a new friend !"

Skye hummed, thoughtful. Sat comfortably in a plushed chair, she bit in a fresh made cookie.

"You said that you did not recognise its breed ?"

You shook your head, sitting in a chair as well.

"Yeah. I even searched in the book you gave me," you pointed said book on your cupboard. "I didn't find any breed of that height with the tips of ears and tail colored."

Skye's brows furrowed at your words as she spinned a spoon in her cup of tea.

"Colored ?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded. "Lime-green. I've never seen this color on a non venomous animal. Well, I don't exactly know if this hound is non venomous but you got me."

"Well I wonder if its even a hound," expressed Clove. "According to how you described its behaviour, it sounds more like a nice doggy. Its not attacking you, therefore there is no reason to be worried about it for now."

You leaned back in your seat, pondering their words.

"Fair point," you sighed. "Oh ! I've been meaning to ask. What is that village that burst out of nowhere at the south of the forest ?"

Clove perked in their chair, the new subject of conversation tickling their interest.

A few weeks ago, you had helped a few lost people who were asking the direction towards the south. The surprise you had when you discovered that instead of a meadow where you used to see goats and sheeps were now a whole and highly functional village had you stunned and speachless for a few minutes.

"A new village came out of nowhere ? How ?"

"The Mondragón Sanctuary," said Skye after taking a sip of tea. "Ruled and protected by the great sorceress Reyna. Tribeless outcasts of all kinds, runaways and survivors of the Kingdom tyranny are seeking refuge there. I've been reached out to teach the young druids of this village to master their abilities."

Clove's eyes seemed to sparkle. They reached out for Skye hands, squeezing them in theirs while doing pleading eyes.

"That sounds so cozy ! Could you put a good word for me ? I want to see that place ! And I could help youngsters too !"

"Sure," acquiesced the ginger druids. "The Sanctuary is actually asking for more professors," she then turned to you. "You could teach botanical and apothecary stuffs since plants have no secrets for you."

A grimace painted your lips as you shook your head. The simple idea of being the center of a crowd's attention made you sick.

"No thanks. The farthest I am from people, the better."

True to her words, Skye put a good word for Clove who are now teaching the young druids along side her how to master their elemental abilities. You often saw them exercising with children in a clearing in the south of the forest while picking incandescent berries. The sounds of laughters and squeals of joy was new but welcomed melodies in the sometimes chilly silence of the Forest of Valorant. You occasionally found yourself watching them from afar discovering their abilities, or drawing them in a sketchbook when you weren't searching for plants. Of course, there were times when Clove waved at you and that you had to jump in a tree to avoid being seen by so many eyes, but it was a new colorful routine adding new pigments into the once monotone painting that was your life.

Lulled by the laughter of children, you were now asleep in the grass, back against a tree. You were so deep in your slumber you barely noticed the young man walking in your direction until he was right before you. Startled, you jolted awake.

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to scare you."

You eyed him warily, taking note of his light catching lime-green hair, the runes on his skin and the jewellery decorating his ears. Your gaze then met his —a very warm chocolate gaze— before falling on the constellation of freckle highlighted by his smile. Despite not knowing him, his face was vaguely familiar to you.

"I wanted to introduce myself correctly since I couldn't last time."

"Last time ?" you repeated, your brows furrowing in confusion.

His eyes momentarily seemed to shine at the sound of your voice roughened by sleep.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a step further towards you. "My friends and I were lost but you helped us coming back in the village. Man, these woods are big ! We owe you big time !"

You stood up, cleaned yourself and took a step back.

"Oh," you said simply. He was with the group you guided to the Sanctuary a few weeks ago.

"I'm Mateo," he said with a nervous but happy smile. "But people call me Gekko."

You picked up your stuffs in the grass while telling him your name.

"I know ! Skye told us about you when we came back at the Sanctuary after you guided us, and Clove keeps praising your erudition. They also said that if we ever get lost in the woods, there were great chance to have an encounter with the Woods Angel."

"Snitches," you grumbled an unpleased grimace stretching your traits.

From the other side of the clearing, Clove's voice could be heard, calling for you and highly distracting. When Gekko looked back, you were gone.

★★★

Keeping people at arm's length was a skill you perfectly mastered after years of semi-isolation. You could disappear in one blink, lowered your presence or just hide in the shadows. Gekko seemed to have finally understood that after several attempts to strike conversations with you when you were out admiring your friends' educational prowess.

While you proud yourself in keeping people away, it was another story for animals. When you went out in the clearing today, the exact same hound from a few days ago was comfortably laid down at the foot of the tree you usually relaxed against. It immediately perked when it noticed you.

"You again ?" you gasped in surprise as it came nuzzling against you.

You let it cling onto you as you sat down against the tree. It immediately put its head on your lap.

"Do you belong to someone from the Sanctuary ?" you inquired, to which it let out a soft growl.

It kept looking at you as you mindlessly caressed its colored-tipped ears while drawing in your sketchbook, its eyes reflecting a confusing intelligence. It sometimes lifted its head to take a peek, sometimes nuzzled its head better against you.

And slowly, this hound slithered into your cocoon, being an element of your routine.

You often met at the tree in the clearing, relaxing together —sometimes to the point of taking naps together. You soon discovered how eager this animal was. You sometimes discovered bushes of berries at the tree where you often met. Or there were these times when it let out soft whines when you stopped caressing it. And you also found yourself laughing more thanks to it. You had a listener for your little rants and company when you needed it. Clove often teased you about the hound, saying that you've been adopted by it.

You once let him follow you to your house, showing him how to pass through the illusion that was hiding it. And since that day, you would often hear it scratching eagerly at your door or see it napping in your garden.

You were now used to hear your new friend around and the familiar noise of its claws scratching the wood. So one day, when you heard someone banging with strength at your door, you couldn't help but grabbed your daggers.

"Go away !" you shouted.

"Please !" the voice was masculine and familiar, the tone heart-wrenching. "It's an emergency !"

Biting your lower lip, you kept your guards up.

"How did you find this place ?"

You heard sniffling from behind the door and your hands clenched around your daggers.

"You showed me the way."

"Liar !" you hissed.

There were a silence and for one moment you believed he was gone. But then, you heard the familiar pattern of claws scratching the wood. Confused, you hurried to unlock the door and swung it open. A light yelp escaped you when you saw Gekko, ugly tears flowing down his cheeks and sobs shaking his broad shoulders. When he saw you, he immediately fell down to his knees and hugged your legs, burying his face in your stomach.

"I'm sorry for lying to you all this time but please, people are dying at the Sanctuary," he begged, his fingers clenching around your thighs. "I'll do anything ! I'll...I'll even stop seeing you if that's what you want, I promise but please, save them ! They're my family."

Momentarily paralysed at the sudden contact, you let the informations sink in your brain as his loud sobs were painfully clenching your heart. For a short instant, you saw your hound nuzzling against you.

"What happened ?" you breathed out.

He sniffled again and looked up at you, his eyes red of despair. He then pulled out two vials from his thigh sac. They both contained a dark grey sandy powder.

"We found soldiers of the Kingdom spreading these in the river and the wheat. People started feeling sick and our healers can't help the ill."

You took the vials, opened one and took one short inhale before cursing under your breath. Recognition hit you in the most unpleasant way possible. If you were right —and you furiously knew you were— you would have to act fast before the worst could happen.

"When did people start getting sick ?" you asked as you gently pull away from his arms, rushing inside your house.

He quickly stood up, following you.

"Yesterday afternoon," he wiped his tears as he watched you pulling out different bocals, vials and tools and put them in a large messenger bag. "People started dying this morning."

You tossed your messenger bag at him and grabbed a few notebooks before rushing outside.

"Did you inhale the powder ?"

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't. Why ? What does it do ?"

"It nullify abilities of magic users and weakened their immune system as well as draining their life force in a recording speed. Healing abilities won't work on the sick. You can't find the plants used to make this powder on this continent. The Kingdom must have imported it."

You saw his eyes widening in horror as you exited the illusion protecting your house. You then felt his hand grabbing yours, stopping in your track.

"Wait. Get on my back, we'll be faster."

And under your heavy but still surprised eyes, he turned into a hound.

Your hound. Looking at you with sad eyes while holding your messenger bag in his mouth.

You barely contained the disillusioned scoff that escaped you and his big canine body winced in response.

"Let's just go."

When you arrived at the Mondragón Sanctuary, a gasp of horror leaved your mouth. It was almost liveless. The once colorful and joyful village was now filled with gloom and sorrow. Gekko kept running through the streets until reaching what seemed to be a small hospital. You climbed off Gekko's back and he turned back to open the door for you. Another loud gasp escaped you at the maelstrom of panic in the hall. Healers and physicians were running everywhere, screaming orders and moving sick people.

Suddenly overwhelmed, you took a step back, your hands clenching on the strap of your messenger bag.

"Mateo !"

Before you even knew it, a tall woman rushed towards you two to cup Gekko's face in her hands.

"Where were you ? I looked for you everywhere !"

"I brought help."

Your attention was led behind you when a familiar voice called your name and when you turned your head, you saw Skye walking in your direction.

"Oh gods, Skye !" you whimpered, taking her in your arms.

Your friend looked so pale, so weakened. Walking seemed to take so much energy. Seeing her in that state brought tears into your eyes.

"W-What about Clove ?" you stuttered.

"They can't leave their bed," she coughed.

Gekko retrieved your attention by grabbing your hand again and gently calling your name.

"This is Reyna. The head of the Sanctuary and my mentor."

You looked back at the great woman and almost fell under the intensity of her stare. You felt like her deep purple gaze was analyzing each atom of your being. There were something about her that was confusing your instinct : on one hand, you felt very protected by her presence. On the other, you also felt like you walked into a lethal and sadistic trap.

"The infamous Wood Angel," she said with her sultry but imperial voice. "My protégé told me a lot about you. Clove and Skye also praised your knowledge and competency."

You side-glanced Gekko —who shyly looked away, and Skye who coughed again.

"I'll go straight to the point. Are you able to get rid of this illness ?"

Your body winced when you noticed the attention of everyone in the hall on you. You literally felt their eyes eaching your skin, their silent questions suffocating you. Anxiety raised silently raised its thread to make you its puppet. Your fingers raised to dig their nails in your wrist, but before you could hurt yourself, two hands gently grabbed yours. Your eyes searched for who they belonged to and fell into Gekko's warm ones. For an instant, you saw your hound's worried gaze.

Feeling oddly relieved, you took a deep breath then nodded.

"It's not my first time dealing with this. I brought my equipment but we need to be quick and I need space to create the remedy," you took another deep breath, taking a look inside your bag. "I brought my own plants and potions, but I want the antidote to be strong. And I need incandescent berries for that."

Gekko perked at your words, his hands squeezing yours again, recognition sparkling in his eyes.

"I know where they grow. I can go fetch you them."

Reyna sized you again, her eyes, glowing faintly.

"Very well," she agreed. "Mateo, tell Sage and Viper to quickly prepare their laboratory."

"Sure," Gekko nodded then looked back at you. "Come on, it's this way."

You let him drag you out of the hall.

"Skye, please find a bed to rest. I'll be as quick as I can."

"I know," she smiled weakly. "I trust you."

The walk in the different corridors was filled with a loud silence. His shoulders stiff with tension, Gekko avoided your gaze as much as he could. Yet, his hand never left yours, its grip strong but gentle. A heavy sigh escaped your lips and his body wince in response.

"Look, I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Oh ? You are now ?" you raised an eyebrow. "You know what ? Forget it. There is much more urgent than your deceiver tendencies."

He froze as his hand grabbed the doorknob of the laboratory. He then looked back at you with sad eyes. For a moment, your hound was back in front of you. Gulping, you diverted your eyes elsewhere.

"I played with your trust and that's not fair. I...I've been wanting to tell you for a long time. Really. But the more I waited, the harder it got."

Your eyes stayed away from his as your jaw clenched. You've rarely felt so hurt, but your feelings weren't the priority at the moment. Yet, for a rare time of your life, you had difficulties putting them away. Huffing, you harshly pull your hand out of his touch.

"I've felt less alone with you around," you lamented in a murmur. "I thought you were my friend."

"I am !"

"Friends don't deceive each other !" you scolded. "You played me for months ! And all of that for what, huh ?"

Your argument was quickly interrupted by the door swinging open on a tired looking woman scowling at you two, her green eyes glaring.

"Could you two be loud elsewhere ? I'm trying to focus."

An oddly exhausted huff escaped Gekko, but he took the time to introduce you to Viper, an alchemist who soon understood that you were there to help and the Sanctuary salvation. She welcomed you into her dizzyingly organised laboratory and you didn't waste time pulling out your equipment. You were pulling bocals out of your bag when you felt a hand patting your shoulder.

"I'll go fetch the incandescent berries," he murmured. "I'll be back soon."

You didn't answer. You didn't even look at him.

You gave Viper instructions, teaching her how to manipulate certain plants and certain mushrooms, answered her questions. Soon, Sage, a cleric, came to help the both of you and you ended up working in an efficient synergy.

Focused, you were manipulating boiling vials when a blue armadillo-like creature arised in your sight, its strange body slightly deformed behind your magnifying binoculars. Startled, you let out a yelp and, as you jolted back, your back collided with a torso.

"Gekko, how many times did I tell you to not summon your spirits in here ?" sighed Viper as she handed you another vial.

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "But we're back with the berries. Set the basket down, Wingman."

Another creature, this time yellow and almost axolotl-like, walked on the work plan and set down a basket full with incandescent berries. It garbled, cheerfully waved at you and disappeared into the runes on Gekko's arm.

"Please let me help you," he begged. "It's only fair that I–"

You cut him off with a loud exhausted sigh. You sized him from head to toe and groaned when you recognized the stubbornness in his eyes. You were used to see it on a canine face, but the blaze was the same. You had a quick flashback of that time when he didn't let you carry your basket of flower. He had only let you carry it once you were back at your house.

"Put on protection gloves and an apron. Incandescent berries are quite tough to deal with."

You didn't have the strength nor the will to argue with him. It wasn't the moment anyway.

Gekko proved himself to be efficient and quite reliable. Once you showed him how to manipulate incandescent berries without being burned by their juice, it was easy for him to fill a few dozens of bocals. Meanwhile, you were stirring the boiling cauldron. After Viper and Sage added minced mushrooms and plants into the odd-colored mixture, you took a graduated pipette to take the right amount of incandescent juice to pour it into the remedy with extra caution. Its reaction to the mixture would indicate if the antidote was reliable ot not. You took a deep breath and waited. The incandescent juice started to sizzled on the surface of the potion before bursting in small flame dancing on the liquid. When the small blaze went out, you let out a relieved laugh.

"It's working !" you announced, putting an amount of potion in two vials. "Where are Skye and Clove ?"

★★★

Rushing outside of the laboratory, you ran through different corridors and then burst into the room where your friends were. The poor druids didn't even have the strength to be startled. You handed a vial to Skye and helped Clove drinking theirs.

"Shyte ! It's spicy !" they grimaced. "I'll need a cookie to help pass the taste."

"You'll have all the cookies you want once you'll be fully recovered," you smiled. "It should take a few hours."

"Efficient as ever !" complimented Skye. "You're already done ?"

You nodded, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Only the first round of potions. Sage and Viper are giving the antidotes to the people in the building while Gekko and a few other emissaries are giving it to the rest of the village," you explained before narrowing your eyes on Skye. "You knew, right ?"

She didn't even seem to need more precision to what you meant. A sigh escaped her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, her tone sincere. "I thought he would tell you."

"Well he didn't. Since when do you know ?"

"The day you recalled us your first meeting with him. He has quite notifying traits when he shapeshifts."

Feeling themselves excluded from the conversation and completely clueless, Clove gently fist your top to attract your attention.

"Knew what ? Who are you talking about ?"

★★★

Back at the laboratory, you were crafting the remedy for the umpteenth time. You were so focused you barely paid attention to the small green bouncing creature on your left, or the dozing shark-like one at your feet. You had to supply a whole village, after all. You already managed to supply the totality of the building, the neighborhood, and to fill a two whole tables with vials. Emissaries came from time to time to take some. In a few hours, the ill that touched the village would be nothing but a bad memory.

"You've been working all night. Please take a break," you heard Gekko pleading.

"I can do that later."

He had been keeping you company for hours, without even flinching. You were done filling another vial when he gently grabbed you wrist and led you to a small couch.

"And you say I'm the stubborn one," he sighed. "You did enough for today. Sage and Viper taught the recipe to other physicians and healers."

He sat you down and kneeled before you.

"But—"

"Please," he begged taking your hand in his.

For a quick moment, you heard the whine of your hound. He nuzzled his warm cheek in your cold palm, his lids heavy.

"I owe you. Again," he was thanking you, but his voice sounded so apologetic. "You helped me when I was lost in the forest, listened when I came asking for help and saved my home and family without hesitation. All of this despite the fact that I tricked you."

Your eyes narrowed on him, almost glaring.

"Why did you even do this ?"

You felt him flinching at your tone.

"I've been thinking about you since we first met. Skye had warned me that you barely interact with people, so I approached you in my canine form. I wanted to tell you since day one, I swear. The day you found me again in the forest, I wanted to have more time so I could explain but it was getting late." he laid his head on your lap and guided your hand to his head. "Everytime I tried to talked to you as Gekko, you did your best to keep me at arm's length. So I turned back and used the hound to get close to you. I'm sorry. I would understand if you decide to not see me anymore."

A silent yawn stretched your jaw as his words echoed in your mind. You were mad at him. He learned so much about you without your knowledge, he slithered into your life and settled comfortably in your routines and heard your rants, he heard you expressing your mind. Hell, thinking about all the times you rubbed his belly made you deeply embarrassed. But he was good company and had the ability to turn your plain loneliness into a very colorful painting.

"I don't want us to part ways," you confessed. "I would miss you." you raised a scolding finger when he raised his hopeful eyes to you, interrupting him before he could say anything. "But, trick me again like you did and I'll make you drink a beverage with a balding effect. You hear me ?"

He nodded, holding out his pinky finger to lock it with yours.

"Pinky promised !"

He looked so eager at the moment that it made you realize that there weren't really any difference between your hound and him.

"Now that I think about it, you never named me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Named you ?"

"Normally, when people see an animal regularly, they end up giving it a name. Yet, I've been visiting you for months yet you didn't give me a name. Why ?"

Internally, you already had the answer. Giving a name or a nickname was like accepting and nurturing a growing bond between two individuals. By giving him a name, you would have accepted to be mire vulnerable to your hound that you already was. Due to past experiences, you had difficulties bonding with others, Skye and Clove being exceptions but it was mainly because they never left you and proved multiple times how much you meant for them.

You didn't want to give him an answer. Not for now. So you changed subject.

"What happened to the soldiers that poisoned the Sanctuary ?"

He noticed your abrupt change of topic but said nothing of it.

"Oh. Reyna took care of them," he shrugged way to casually for it to not be recurring, and chuckled at your raise of eyebrows. "Don't worry, they're still alive. Which is kinda sad for them, now that I think about it." His gaze regained its worry when you yawned again. He gently pushed you down so you could lay down on the couch. "Please have some rest. You've been standing on your feet for hours."

You couldn't even argue, your lids were closing on their own.

★★★

You woke up at the sounds of whispers and the scent of bakery. When you opened your eyes, Clove's radiant smile blinded you while a gelatinous paw patted your forehead. Your eyes then met lively white ones.

"Huh ?"

"Aren't they awesome ?" Clove exclaimed as you sat up, taking Wingman in their arms. You also noticed Skye drinking juice and Gekko bringing you a tray of food. "And they're so cute too !"

Gekko sat down beside you while you watched your friends interacting with the four very lively spirits. Even though Clove could now exit their bed, you noticed they were still very cautious with their movements. As for Skye, dark circles were still present under her eyes.

"Eat a little," said Gekko. "You didn't have dinner last night."

"How is—"

"Everything is fine," Skye cut you off with a reassuring tone. "The whole Sanctuary had their vial. Now eat."

You noticed the tables which were filled with vials the precedent night now empty. A small sigh of relief escaped you.

"Oh," you accepted the toast Gekko presented you and bit in it. "Good. I can go back home then."

You didn't notice Gekko's frown as you finished your tray and chugged down the entire pitcher of orange juice.

"I'll probably return to my town, just the time for the Sanctuary to recover fully," hummed Skye before turning towards Clove. "You coming ?"

Clove nodded, still playing with Gekko's spirits. Speaking of Gekko he gently nudged his shoulder against yours.

"You won't stay ?" he questioned and once again, he looked so much like your hound. "You never come to the village. I...I could show you around or even show you my place."

You shook your head, setting the now empty tray aside.

"I'll be fine. But thanks for the proposal."

You swore at that moment that he contained himself from whining.

"You sure ? The whole village wants to thank you."

"And this is one more reason for me to go back home," you grimaced standing up and stretching.

Clove and Skye silently watched your interaction, one with a knowing smile, the other with fond eyes.

"Okay," Gekko's shoulders deflated. "At least, let me walk you back home."

You accepted and let him take your hand to lead you outside of the building. On your way out, you briefly saw Reyna talking to Viper. When she noticed you, she nodded in your direction, as if appraising and thanking you. Once outside, Gekko shapeshifted into the hound and invited you on his back.

He ran through the village, attracting brief attention. Feeling awkward, you hid your face in his fur until he exited the Sanctuary. You immediately felt your body relaxing when he reached the forest and ran through the different groves, the rhythm of his paws drumming the floor almost lulling you. He only slowed down when he passed through the illusion protecting your home, and stopped when he reached the house. You climbed off his back and he didn't wait for leaving his canine form.

"Did you mean what you said last night ?" he asked almost shyly. "That you'd miss me if we parted ways ?"

"You're still welcomed," you agreed. "I love your company."

His eyes lit up before he suddenly took you in his arms. His embrace was as warm as his eyes, strong but so gentle. Surprised by his sudden and bold action, you remained stunned for a few seconds before returning the hug.

"Thanks again," he murmured in your eyes. "For everything. You really live up to your nickname."

He chuckled at your irritated groan before patting your back. And then, he did something you would have never predicted. He kissed the apple of your cheek.

"Please have some more rest," he said as he took a step back. "And don't be surprised if you find me napping in your garden."

On these words, he shapeshifted again and exited your sight. He didn't even let you the time to see how flustered he was by his own bold action.

My headcanon is that Clove wrote this fanfic to tease you and Gekko.

I don't know if I'll do a second part for this one. Honestly, I'm pretty doubtful. It was funny to write but I don't have any idea for a part two nor any inspiration left for it.

Thank you again for reading this. I wish you a nice day/evening/night ^^

[reverieparacosm]

Headcanons what it would be like to be in a relationship with Sauron

Sauron x GN!Reader

Warnings: manipulative behavior, toxic relationship, abuse, kidnapping, mention of torture, gaslighting, possessive behaviors, yandere behavior, mentioned death of loved ones, angst

Note: This man lives in my head rent free. These Headcanons are dark and not for everyone!

A relationship with Sauron would be a treacherous journey

He is one of the most powerful and sinister figure in the Lord of the Rings universe, and such a relationship would involve a give-and-take of power that could never be equal

Sauron’s goal is world domination, and he seeks to control those in his inner circle. His dark power is intimidating and overwhelming, and those who associate with him are likely to become corrupted and seduced by his strength

This type of relationship could bring about extreme highs and lows, from moments of immense power and pleasure to moments of despair and regret

"I want that side of you that you don't show to anyone else"

Despite Sauron’s powerful hold on those in his inner circle, it would be virtually impossible to sustain a true, healthy, and fulfilling relationship with such a dark and powerful figure

He would be possessive and jealous, viewing any time his partner might spend with others as a threat to his control

Being in a toxic relationship with Sauron would be a dark and miserable experience

Sauron is a manipulative force, one who would use fear and intimidation to control you

He would try to manipulate and control your thoughts, feelings, and actions, creating an atmosphere of dread and oppression

"Stop being so complicated. You know that you love me"

You would be constantly under his watchful eye, unable to escape his suffocating grip

The relationship would be filled with emotional abuse, manipulation, and intimidation

Sauron's anger and temper would always be present, and any attempts to stand up for yourself or challenge him would only be met with further abuse

"Keep acting like that and you will regret it, darling"

He would always be trying to break you down and control you, leading to a feeling of constant confusion and helplessness

Even after the relationship ended, you would still be haunted by the memory of Sauron's dark presence

He is a force of destruction and chaos, and he has no care or love for anyone or anything - he is only concerned with his own ambitions

He will use manipulation, fear, and even violence to get people to do his bidding

If you were to enter a relationship with him, it would be a dangerous one in which you could become his puppet, used to further his goals without your own consent. You would also be at risk of getting hurt or even killed by his minions or by Sauron himself

He would be far more concerned with having power over a partner than loving them

Just imagine his hands on the back of your neck, moving slowly, whispering in your ear, "You are mine"

He also does not value emotional intimacy or openness, and would try to remain in control and maintain his image as a powerful leader

Don't try to escape him. It would have terrible consequences

If a partner attempted to escape Sauron's grasp, they would likely face harsh punishment

This could include physical torture, imprisonment, or even death

Punishment for disobedience against Sauron would likely depend on the severity and nature of the disobedience. For minor offenses, such as failing to follow orders, Sauron would likely use intimidation and fear tactics, such threatening them with violence. In more serious cases, such as open defiance or attempted betrayal, Sauron would likely resort to more extreme punishments, such as torture

As a master of dark magic, Sauron could also use powerful spells to mentally and emotionally torture the disobedient

Sauron's prisons exist in a state of constant darkness, only lit by the occasional fires burning within the dungeons. The air is thick with tension, and the cells are often filled with the piercing cries of the other prisoners. To face the Dark Lord himself is said to be the most terrifying of experiences, as his gaze alone is enough to instill dread within his prey

Those who endure imprisonment by Sauron are said to face difficult trials, such as physical and mental torture and long, arduous labor. In such a place, death often seems like a preferable alternative, as prisoners are said to exist in a state of eternal despair and hopelessness

Sauron would use all his might and dark magic to enslave and control you. You would be powerless against his powerful spells and would have no chance of escape

Sauron would also not shy away from killing your loved ones

He would force you to watch while one of his servants kills one of your loved ones

"Don't cry. It's your own fault"

Sauron's dark servants – the Ringwraiths – would be sent to kidnap you, and their presence alone would strike fear into your heart. The sight of them riding on their spectral horses in the night sky would be enough to send shivers down your spine

Despite all of these challenges, a relationship with Sauron could be very rewarding, as he is a powerful being with a great deal of knowledge and wisdom

[extremelyblackandwhite]

scrubs - 7.

PAIRING: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

WARNINGS: fluff

A/N: have fun everybody xx

< previous chapter

She was stubborn. She’d always been stubborn from the moment he’d first seen her a few years ago and while he knew so many staff over his very long period at the hospital which had seen him do his own residency, he could not forget the first time he saw her. The first thought that popped into his mind was how cute she was in a clearly oversized lab coat as she followed her supervisor around carrying some stock. He’d offered to help her out yet she merely looked him up and down with a sarcastic smile before telling him she didn’t need his help. The exact same sarcastic smile she was wearing right now. 

Time had barely weighed on her, after all, it hadn’t been that long ago and while her hair had changed, her defiance had remained. There weren’t a lot of people who defied doctors or even nurses, they had this sort of mystical tsar like dominance inside hospital walls yet not only she defied him, but she also had almost always the upper hand. 

     - Why would I do that? - she cocked her head to the side, eyebrow raised up as she taunted him. 

     - Because ... - he stood close to him, way too close for her to feel his breathe on her face. His finger traced the side of her jaw, slowly and with torturous intent before he leaned down to her ear. - You really get keyed up when I’m not inside you, doll.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up but she remained her composure, studying her opononent as if this was a chess match. Her eyes looked up at him, a small smile on her lips before she leaned in to kiss him. He melted into her kiss, pressing her against the wall as it became more intimate and lustful, yet it wasn’t messy. She was merely pressed against that wall, his lips molding with hers as his hands rested on her waist. Her hands rubbed up and down his chest, one of them resting upon the hard on visible from his scrubs. She squeezed his through his scrubs as her kisses leaned down from his lips to his jaw and neck, leaving enough lipstick marks to have people wonder. 

    - I guess I’m gonna be keyed up ... - she stopped the kiss before slipping from under him, her hand resting on the knob. - Knock yourself off, Dr. Stan. 

Sebastian remained speechless as he watched her leave. Oh, oh she was wanting to be chased? He smirked to himself, grabbing his jacket before looking down at his erection. That was going to be a fun lunch break, he thought to himself. He allowed her to remain in his mind through his whole shift yet not on the way it usually remained. He wasn’t annoyed at her, it was something else. Maybe he did have an idea of what to do. 

She on the other hand was busy dealing with her ever rushing thoughts about the doctor. She had a bright smile on her face every once in a while every time she thought about what she’d done. Sure, she knew she’d probably deal with the consequences of it the next time they spoke or when HR found out she kissed him in the middle of the reception hall but that was a future problem. She continued with that little smile even as she grabbed her bag, walking down the stairs down to her car, only to find the same man on her mind sat on the boot.

   - Dr. Stan, you do realise you have to enter the car to actually drive it, correct?

   - You are the most difficult woman I’ve ever met. 

   - I didn’t realise we were still fighting over the obvious. - she fished her purse for her keys. 

   - Let’s go on a date. - he jumped off the car. - Hopefully, you’ll end up in my bed as well. 

   - A date? Doctor Stan, the only thing I want to do is get takeaway from the little Italian restaurant next to my house and watch Netflix.

   - Come on, doll. You gave me blue balls the whole day, least thing you can do is have a bite with me. 

She poundered over the question for a little bit. Surely she wouldn’t want this going around the hospital or she would lose the little credibility she had in those halls yet, at the same time, she did enjoy her time with him no matter how much he attempted to get on her last nerve. She lowered her shoulder, letting out a sigh before holding up her keys in her fingers. 

  - You’re driving. 

  - I can’t drive such a tiny car. - he pointed at her baby blue Fiat 500, the very first car she’d ever bought and the only car she’ll ever have for all she cared. 

   - They say men with big cars are compensating for something. Got anything to hide, Dr. Stan? - she smirked as she opened her passenger door. 

  - You would know, wouldn’t you doll? - he caught the keys from her, pushing the driver’s seat back before closing the door. - Damn, this is a tiny car.

  - You’re a tiny car.

  - Is that all you have? I expected a better come back from you.

  - Like you expected me to make you cum earlier? 

He smiled to himself as he started the car. Sebastian honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven with someone by his side, much less a woman whom he wasn’t related to. Her car had such an aura to it, the aura of who she was outside of work. He’d never stopped to wonder who she was off work, what she liked, what she disliked; however, her playlist gave a quick peak into a bit of her tastes, a mix between musical theatre, sad pop music, c;assic music and Britney Spears. It made her rounded, more than the woman she was at the laboratory, more than the supervisor Y/N he was so used to have petty fights with. Everything in the car just yelled out who she was, from the little vanilla scent dangling off the mirror, the lipgloss on the side, a few books in the backseat and the car itself. He thought his car was so dull compared to hers, always so unlived in. 

   - Are we going to sit in silence or ... ?  -  she leaned against the head rest.

   - Oh no, doll. I like not talking to you, you normally end up kissing me out of the blue. I could get used to that. 

   - That happened because you were a dick to me. 

   - That happened because you were jealous. Admit it, you like me. 

She remained silent, looking at him through the corner of her eye with a childish smile. He drove past her favourite Italian, getting her reserved order before deciding to take them to his apartment. Sebastian was sure she wouldn’t want him in her flat, no one had really been there. She was a quiet person outside of her job, no one really knew what she exactly did or what she liked. He wondered what type of person she was outside of work but he could only imagine she had that same spark. That little thing which just made her the person he knew.She was always too big for that little hospital.

  - You passed my street.

  - I know. We’re going to my place. I know you’re a private person. 

  - Oh ... - she bite the inside of her lip, looking out the window. - That’s awfully thoughtful of you.

  - Everything ok? - he asked but she merely nodded, leaning on her own hand yet the answer didn’t satisfy him. - You can talk to me, you know? I’m not all bad. 

  - I didn’t know you were a psychologist. 

  - Do you even have anyone to talk to? - he questioned, more in a joking manner than in a serious manner yet her face dropped. Her eyes darting to look out the window as she forced laughter. - C’mon people talk on dates.

  - I have my parents but they’re not in the country. - she answered, pulling at the edge of her cuffs. - It’s only glamorous to work in a hospital if you’re a white male doctor. 

  - Something happened?

  - Not important. - she changed the topic. - Pay attention to the road before you wreck my car. 

Sebastian wanted to ask her, he really did, yet he doubtted she would open up to him. Maybe for good reason, after all, their relationship had been, somewhat, strictly professional for years. Nevertheless, it still tugged at the back of his mind even as he parked. Sebastian existed the car, carrying whatever it was she had ordered before opening the door for her. 

Maybe it was the fact she had been extremely drunk the last time or that she was much more focused on getting him to fuck her but the view from his penthouse flat was something breath taking. She took small steps towards the balcony, holding out the rail as she looked up the city from the top. Everything looked so small, like her own personal sky full of stars. She could just look at it for hours and forget everything.

   - Do you wanna eat out the packaging or do you want me to plate it? - he spoke to her from the kitchen. - Y/N?

   - Whatever’s better for you. - she looked out her shoulder before returning to look at the city. Sebastian dropped the plates onto the marble countertops, abandoning his task to go and join her. She looked at him from the corner of her eye, as if questioning what he was doing by her side. 

   - What’s bothering you? 

   - Nothing’s bothering me.

   - You haven’t bullied me yet. You’re either really trying to get into my pants which is not hard at all, really just need to ask or you’re upset. Either way, I wanna help.

    - You wouldn’t understand. - she leaned her arms on the railing. 

    - I don’t need to understand, I just wanna be there for you.

    - So you wanna be my therapist? - she dryly chuckled. - I’ve just been hating my job.

    - Everyone hates their job.

    - I was the first in the family to go to university, the smart kid. I always did my best, gave up on a regular growing up because I needed to be the best to merely get the opportunities other people had. I worked hard, graduated top of my class and when I got this job I was so happy. - she shakily sighed. - But now I just hate it. I do everything I can, I do the best and beyond, edit company SOPs and training forms and I’m still treated like scum. I just thought that with a degree I would do what I like but instead I’m stuck in that job, unable to do what I like because it doesn’t pay the bills. I interview all the time and it’s always a no. I’m just unhappy, alone and lonely.

  - You’re not alone. You have that friend ... what’s her name? 

  - Miriam? Try being friends with someone who’s recently engaged.

  - I’m sorry. - he scratched the back of his neck. - I didn’t know you felt that way, Y/N. That’s awful. 

  - Thanks, Dr. Stan. I appreciate it. - she saluted him sarcastically. 

  - You need to let people in. 

  - I’ve already let you in. 

  - Not like that. - he chuckled. - You’re always so uptight. Don’t get me wrong, I love it but other people don’t.

  - I don’t really care if people like me. I’m used to it. 

  - Thank god I like you then. - he kissed her shoulder. - And not just when you’re naked and under me. I like talking to you, baby doll. You should quit that job. 

  - And you’d pay for my tiny flat?

  - No. You’d move here and walk around naked with your glasses talking to me about how dumb I am about microbiology.

  - Is that what turns you on?

  - You’ll be ok. I promise you. - he pulled her close to him. - Besides, if anyone ever treats you like scum, you let me know and I will make their life very hard. I can be a nuissance. 

  - I know. - she leaned her head against his shoulder. - It’s a date now.

taglist: @rebekahdawkins​

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

I'm curious, what are your thoughts on Canon Harry, Hermione, and Ron?

Given my absolute trashing everyone else and sparse comments on Harry, you can probably guess.

I honestly don’t even know where to start with this.

I guess we’ll start with Harry.

Harry Potter

First, sorry guys, Harry is painfully stupid. It’s not that he doesn’t try hard academically, that he’s not book smart, or that he’s just acting his own age, he is honestly, truly, painfully dumb and is consistently an idiot throughout the entire series.

Let’s take third year as a random example. Harry’s informed there’s a mass murdering Death Eater on the loose that has the country in such a panic that they send dementors to Hogwarts, he is told directly that this guy has motive to come directly after him, he even notices that he’s kept a close eye on that summer in Diagon Alley.

Harry decides that his life is a bottomless pit of despair if he can’t go to Hogsmeade every month with everyone else. Not even if he doesn’t get the candy, Hermione and Ron bring him that afterwards, but not going at all brings him misery. And I get it, it sucks to be stuck in the castle when all your friends get to go on a field trip. BUT HARRY, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHY EVERYONE’S MAKING YOU STAY IN THE CASTLE?! Harry’s response is he isn’t afraid of death because... he isn’t afraid of death. Really, it’s not so much that he’s that brave but more that he hasn’t thought this one through. 

Harry finally gets to sneak out to Hogsmeade and is thrilled and it takes Hermione pointing out that Sirius Black may very well know these other entrances (which he does) for Harry to even realize this is a possibility (even though Harry didn’t make the map). His response to Hermione is surprised Pikachu face for two seconds then, “No, there’s no way, Sirius Black could never figure out something as cool as this.” Then, when Harry’s finally caught, it takes both Snape and Lupin calling him a dick who dishonors his parent’s sacrifice and entire nation trying to keep him safe, for Harry to realize that maybe sneaking into Hogsmeade was a pretty shitty thing to do. 

We also have the whole firebolt incident in which Harry’s sent a very suspicious package that could very well kill him with no return address. Harry gets unbelievably pissed that Hermione narks on him, even though he does eventually get the broom back. How dare Hermione get in the way of his quidditch!

This is just one book, mind you, we could go through all seven and find equally mind bogglingly dumb moments. Harry’s just not a bright guy (he also is very academically lazy, but that’s not the same thing.)

Otherwise, Harry doesn’t just have a little anger issue, he has a serious problem and I’m convinced he’s a psychopath. 

Whoa, you say, hold on! Where does that come from?

Well, not so much the earlier books. While Harry is a dick (and yes, guys, he is) he doesn’t show really worrying tendencies. The worst he gets up to is icing out Hermione when she becomes inconvenient (see Firebolt fiasco), treating Neville like trash (Harry bails on Neville to sneak out to Hogsmeade), and just being generally self-centered. 

I’m talking about the Order of the Phoenix onward. First we have HARRY’S RAGING CAPS-LOCKS FOR AN ENTIRE NOVEL. Granted, he’s an angry dude in a stressful situation, but that was... a lot. But it’s really Half-Blood Prince were I start grimacing.

We have his reaction to Ginny. It never really seems like Harry ever likes Ginny, it’s more that he has this green rage monster in his chest that wants to possess her. It is the weirdest thing I’ve ever read in my life. Or, well, one of them. So that’s... a thing. 

Then we have the whole Draco thing. Harry becomes obsessed with Draco Malfoy, more so than usual. And yes, Draco was up to no good, and sure we can tilt our heads and say it’s pretext for Draco/Harry. Except guys, Harry’s scary about it. Take out the appeal of the slash for two seconds, Harry stalking Draco is that problematic thing that if Draco were a woman we’d be saying “ABORT ABORT ABORT”. It of course, culminates in the bathroom incident. Now, you say, Harry didn’t know what that spell would do. Well, he knew it was for enemies and even afterwards, though he panics and feels bad, what he really seems to be bad about is the potential consequences to himself not the action. he focuses more on the fact that the beloved Halfblood Prince was Snape than he does the fact that he nearly murdered Malfoy. If I’m remembering correctly, Harry in fact makes out with Ginny not long after, got to set that chest monster loose, y’all. 

Then in book seven Harry starts using the unforgivables with absolutely no regret. Torture for you, Bellatrix, I am edgy now. It’s very clear that Harry only cares superficially about morality. He generally follows the rules and various ideals because he likes the idea of being noble and virtuous, he isn’t actually a virtuous guy at all. 

I’m not even sure he really understands friendship. Harry’s friends are people who are great and all except when they become inconvenient, then he can treat them like the trash they are until they come back around (if ever). 

He’s kind of a monster actually. 

He’s also the poster child of why Voldemort may have a teensy-tiny point that the statute of secrecy as it stands around muggle children is not sustainable. Really doesn’t look good for the cause when the most famous child in the wizarding world is raised by extremely abusive muggles and grows up extremely maladjusted because of it. 

Hermione Granger

Now, I give Harry a lot of flak for his treatment of Hermione, but Hermione’s not a barrel of roses either. She may be friends with a pair of assholes who don’t really like her all that much, but she kind of dug her own grave.

First, Hermione has a bit of a superiority complex, even when she’s completely friendless. She absolutely looks down on girls like Pavarti and Lavender and part of the reason they hate her so much is because of that. That’s part of Hermione’s issue, she’s too good for everyone, and so she eventually becomes friends with famous Harry Potter and Ron Weasley who barely tolerate her because she was too good to be friends with, say, Neville.

Hermione never realizes this.

She also deeply enjoys, I believe, being the smartest person in the room and much smarter than her friends. Granted, this is what she defines herself as, and it means she’s needed by everyone around her for this reason, but she still does like it just a little too much.

And oh my god is she horrifyingly righteous.

This we see in what happens to Marietta, Umbridge, as well as her own parents. She permanently disfigures a girl for snitching them out to Umbridge, never telling anyone this was the consequence, and is smug when we see what happens to her because “snitches get stitches”. It’s pretty heavily implied by canon that Umbridge was raped by centaurs (first they’re centaurs, that’s what centaurs do, second we next see Umbridge in the hospital wing looking catatonic and the gang laughs and makes horsey noises). Yes, Umbridge is a vile evil woman, but that Hermione’s so proud of her vengeance is.... concerning.

Finally, her parents. Hermione, without asking her parents’ consent, wipes their memories and rewrites their entire lives. Congratulations Hermione, even more than Harry you are the poster child for Voldemort’s cause of “what goes wrong when muggles raise a magical child”. Hermione essentially kills her parents, treating them like no more than dolls, and the most she’s upset about is what it did to her. To Hermione, her parents aren’t people, not really.

People in general aren’t people, or at least, Hermione is more than willing to go to drastic lengths if she feels she has been slighted or betrayed. Never get on Hermione Granger’s bad side.

Ron Weasley

Shockingly, I’m not really a “Ron the Death Eater” kind of person. Ron clearly has an inferiority complex, he sees being friends with Harry as a way to make him special from his brothers, he’s overly ambitious and easily jealous, he’s academically lazy, kind of an ass, and he has many flaws as a person.

That said, he’s not the same level of scary asshole as Hermione and Harry. Ron doesn’t cut up Draco Malfoy in a bathroom or even disfigure the guy. He’s just your more or less normal dude who doesn’t realize he’s friends with lunatics. 

TL;DR Harry and Hermione are assholes. Ron’s kind of an asshole too but shockingly less so than the other two.

[quietlyimplode]

For here what is, what is must be

Whumptober2021 (Masterlist) (Chapter 4)

Day 5 - Betrayal (I’ve got red in my ledger)

—————

(Gif not mine- warnings for torture (explicit) and Red Room flashbacks/thoughts)

They’re moving her again, dragging her body to another location. She’s only faintly aware of what’s going on, consciousness peaking as her body screams in pain.

She’s thrown into a room and they don’t even bother to tie her up.

She drifts back into unconsciousness.

.

She’s left to breach consciousness alone and pushes herself against the wall so she can see the door.

Yelena sighs.

She hates this, putting her body on the line again and again, because if she doesn’t; she knows the consequences.

It’s this or death and sometimes the latter feels preferable.

The door opens and closes again and another body is pushed through, sprawling and clearly unconscious as they dump her in.

Yelena’s heart stops.

It’s Natasha.

.

Yelena used to cry. Used to whine at little things, like when she fell over or things wouldn’t go her way. As she grew up, she taught herself never to cry again.

There was a older girl, Oksana, she taught her; bite the inside of your cheeks, tip your head up, go somewhere in your head.

She got better at it.

She turned it into a game, until, nothing made her cry.

Seeing Natasha, a flood of emotions hits her and she tips her head up to the ceiling to make sure nothing comes out.

The red room is going to have a field day, knowing their biggest defector is within reach. Because of Natasha’s betrayal, Yelena was forever tied there.

The Red Room made that clear. Anger and fear makes Yelena back up into the corner and watch, wait for Natasha to wake up.

.

Natasha feels someone else in the room with her. It’s not the same room as before. Good or bad she has no idea.

She takes stock of her body as she feels the floor rub on her burns. No violations she can feel.

If there wasn’t anybody here, she’d make herself go back to sleep.

“I know you’re awake,” comes accented English.

She knows what they’ve done.

She pushes herself into a sitting position and looks at Yelena.

.

Anger is the only emotion she feels as she looks at her sister.

“Hello.” Natasha says, and Yelena doesn’t know what to say.

“Do you know who I am?” She asks at Yelena’s non answer.

Yelena rolls her eyes. She didn’t feel like talking.

She’s almost thankful as two men come in guns raised; she can handle the physical pain.

“Against the wall,” they yell.

They begrudgingly do as they say. Natasha takes a step forward and the man shoots, it only grazes her arm but it goes to show how serious they are.

They’re thrown handcuffs and told to put them on, hands behind them. They comply and Yelena can’t help but steal glances at Natasha; her sister’s face is unreadable even as she bleeds onto the floor.

“On your knees.” They command. They follow the order. Yelena is prepared to fight, to leap to her knees and escape.

But.

That’s not what she’s supposed to do.

The men leave.

Yelena is confused.

Scoffing she sits back and threads her cuffed arms through her legs so they’re now in front of her.

“What was the point?” She mutters, more to herself.

Sometimes, she despairs at the incompetence of others. Natasha glances at her and does the same.

Yelena watches as she cringes and the graze of the bullet on her arm bleeds more at the movement.

“Are you okay?” She asks, unable to keep the contempt from her voice.

Natasha nods.

“You know who I am.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“You betrayed all of us. We all know who you are.”

Natasha’s face flashes anguish before the mask is back.

“I didn’t.” She mutters.

Yelena laughs a mocking laugh.

“You did what you always do; took care of yourself.”

Natasha turns to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yelena scoots back so she’s sitting against the wall, cringing as her bruises and burns touch.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Natasha doesn’t want to let it go.

“No, tell me.” There’s angst in her voice that Yelena chooses to ignore.

“You’re the reason we are here,” she tells her.

Natasha shakes her head. “I came after you.”

“Why?” Looking her dead in the eye, she can feel Natasha shy back, almost curl in on herself.

“Because…”

“Why Natasha? You abandoned me, you didn’t tell me. Why would you come after me, now?”

Yelena is angry.

She doesn’t want to tell Natasha how she told the other girls that her sister would come for her, even as they laughed and said no one ever gets let in or out.

That she held onto hope for so long, before realising, that no one was coming.

“What did you want me to do?” Natasha whispers. “You were six.” She clears her throat.

“Did you want me to say, that this family was time limited? That Alexei and Melina weren’t real? That none of it was real?” The words cut deep and Yelena knows she was not prepared for this, would never be prepared for this.

“You abandoned me. You knew it was a lie and you still..” her words are cut off as the doors open again.

Two shots are fired as tranquilizers hit both of them in the chest.

.

“Wake up.” A voice permeates Yelena’s consciousness as she’s hit. She looks around for Natasha and hates herself that she’s relieved when she sees her.

They’re the same predicament chained to the floor, thick cuffs now around their wrists and ankles.

They’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

She bites back the anxiety of handcuffs, jaw clenching and pushing all the feelings down.

She cringes as they kick Natasha. As they direct questions to her.

“We know it was both of you in Ohio. You know where Melina is. You know what she is working on. We want that technology.”

Natasha looks incensed.

“I don’t..” she gets hit again.

The man looks over to Yelena.

“Do you want us to hurt her?”

Natasha shakes her head, “she doesn’t know anything.”

The man nods, and squats next to her.

“So tell us. Where will we find Melina Vostokov?” Shrugging, Natasha looks away. “I don’t know, she’s dead.”

The man sighs.

He pulls out a crowbar. He hits her once as she curls up as well as she can, Yelena looking on in horror. At second hit, she hears a moan, the man still taunting her as he walks around her.

“What hurts more a?” He hits her hard and Yelena cries out, straining against her bonds, yelling in Russian.

The man waggles his finger at her and the goon closest to Yelena hits her hard in the head.

“Or b?” the man finishes, hitting Natasha across her thighs.

He seems to grow tired of the interrogation as Natasha continues to say nothing.

Yelena is bleeding from her head, hair matted with blood as she continues to try and get to her sister, shame and regret makes it feel like she deserves more.

.

[batsandbugs]

Help (I Need Somebody) Help

AN:Hey everyone! Hope you’re doing well, here’s chapter two of my wrong number daminette AU. I had a lot of fun with this, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Damian held back an unimpressed sigh when two goons rushed him. Their stances were off balance, and he could smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of them.  A low sweep to their legs had both tumbling to the ground. If he had a dime for every lowbrow thug who thought they had a chance at beating him, he’d be richer than his father twice over.

It wasn’t his fault the brain lacking buffoons hadn’t figured out they had a snowball’s chance in hell to beat him in the seven years he lived here. Damian certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them different now. He needed some sort of stress relief after Alfred banned swearing in the house.

He flipped another grunt over his shoulders, an audible crack of a broken bone soon followed.

His mask hid a glint of amusement that was surely gleaming in his eyes, but he kept his face an annoyed scowl. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his father for finding pleasure in the suffering of others. Even if the whole reason they were out tonight, punching up a contingent of near brain-dead loons, was to stop a sex trafficking ring. It was times like this where he seriously considered the validity of his father’s no-killing rule; surely some scum wouldn’t be missed.

He whipped around to punch another man, nearly a foot taller than him and thrice as wide, across the face. Blood spurted from the thug’s nose as the behemoth fell to the ground. Good. Damian jumped back and flipped himself over to roundhouse kick another goon. Another satisfying crack, and the last of them had finally fallen to his superior skills.

Easy.

He waited for the warm glow of satisfaction after a fight well fought, but all he received was the familiar rush of adrenaline and the delicious burn of his muscles tensing for another go.

Unfortunately, all too easy.

Damian didn’t sigh, he was too disciplined for that, but the low-level grumbling in his mind, and the displeased sneer were all too indicative of his problem.

He was utterly unchallenged.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed getting beat to hell and back. He wasn’t a masochist (although, the same could not be said for the rest of his family, if anyone asked him (which, of course, they didn’t)). It was just… after three years with the Titans, constantly stretching to prove himself, pushing his abilities to keep up with those endowed with advantages he simply didn’t have, Gotham felt… lacking in comparison.

And with the Titans all but formally disbanded, Gotham was all he had.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He could follow Cyborg and Blue Beetle and join the Justice League. He had enough blackmail material on all the core members needed to vote him in if his father protested. It would be a welcome change; higher level threats and off world missions, if only there wasn’t the pesky problem of dealing with other heroes.

He would be the first to admit that in his younger teenage years his anti-socialness was a bit… problematic, but he’d grown past that. Socializing with the Titans had been difficult at first, but by the end he could say he was more than an acquaintance with them – even if he wouldn’t go so far as to call all of them friends. But even if he had gotten used to them, it still took three years. At least in Gotham his potential partners were all known quantities. Even if he disliked half of them on his good days.

“Robin, do you read?” called his father on the comms. He shook away his distracting maudlin thoughts.

He raised a hand to his comm. “All clear southside Batman, making my way to the roof.”

“Negative, Hood is already there. Red Robin needs help releasing the captives – cops will be here in fifteen.”

Damian bit back an irritated sigh. “I’ll be of more use-”

“Robin, that’s an order.”

The words wrapped around him, restricting in their resoluteness. He glared down at the unconscious thug and gave a swift kick to the side resulting in an incoherent groan. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Yes, Batman.”

His comm feed dropped off.

The resulting string of swear words he uttered in Arabic would have cost him two hundred dollars in the swear jar. Damian just didn’t give enough of a fuck to bring himself to care.

-0o0-

Damian didn’t slam his bedroom door shut, but it was a close thing.

Between avoiding his father, deflecting the inane chatter of his siblings, and dealing with the GCPD, all of whom were either corrupt, uncaring, or ridiculously overworked, he had been ready stab someone, repeatedly, consequences be damned.

And that discounted dealing with the inconsolable sobbing women they rescued from the shipping containers. The sight of dozens of girls packed together like cargo, most of them his age, if not younger, would be enough to throw even the most experienced off their game.

Damian lived through some truly horrid things growing up in the League. He killed a grown man before he lost his first baby tooth. Suffered through endless hours of training with painful consequences upon any sign of failure. He had been beaten, starved, tortured, and pushed to the extremes of what a child could endure, but the utter horror and disgust he was faced with tonight, well…

At least the suffering he’d endured had a point.

Rubbing a towel through his still damp hair, he collapsed on top of his bed with an exhausted groan. The shower did little in relaxing his tensed muscles, his bed a welcome retreat after being on his feet for hours. Reaching out blindly he grabbed his phone off his bedside table. Going to bed would be the better choice, but it was Saturday, so he didn’t really give a damn.

His phone flicked on and he was taken aback by the notification awaiting him.

40 unread messages

He raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Not completely impossible, but odd. He did have acquaintances who would text him, Jon and Garfield came to mind, but it would be one or two messages at the most. Maybe a missed call if it was something extremely important.

He unlocked his phone.

Tapping on his messaging app, he saw that the messages all came from an unknown number.

That raised even more concerns, considering anyone who had this number were people he should already have programed into his contacts.

This put Damian’s suspicions on high alert.

Cautiously tapping on the text stream, he began reading.

        - As long as you’re not an evil villain running around in a purple suit or a bitchy Italian transfer student I figure you won’t care about what I have to say

         - I haven’t slept in two days. My brain is buzzing. And between my insomnia and four years of repressed anger generated by existing in the same city as an emotional terrorist who uses magical butterflies to turn distressed people into monsters, I might come off a bit incoherent

Before Damian could stop it, a small laugh of amusement passed his lips. This person was either really high, or entirely serious.

His finger hovered over the delete button. This had nothing to do with him. The person admitted they were texting a random number to blow off steam. He should just let it go and get some sleep.

But despite the long drive home, the debriefing, and a shower, the adrenaline hadn’t left his system yet. And the sight of those women in the container wasn’t going to leave his brain for a while. Sleep wouldn’t be coming for a long time yet. Whoever this was, sounded, if not entirely sane, at least somewhat amusing.

Looking back on it, Damian didn’t know what the influencing factor that made him read further. It could have been amusement, or curiosity. It could have been sleep deprivation. It could have been the promise of distraction. It could all of those or none of those, or any combination thereof.

Or it could have been luck.

Pulling up the knitted blanket from the end of his bed, he settled in against his covers, and began to read.

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[isthisthingeven0n]

protective : a.h

you’re still the newest member to the BAU eventhough you’ve been there a year, but that doesn’t mean hotch isn’t always looking out for you (2.2K)

* also i have an etsy shop where i sell some criminal minds tote bags and prints. if you wanna check it out i’ll leave the link here

“Reid, go left with JJ. Rossi, Morgan, take the right entrance. Y/L/N, with me.” Hotch orders and everyone nods, knowing it was a time-sensitive situation.

Following behind Hotch, you could already hear the screams and cries of agony from Alisia Hartnell, the unsubs latest victim whom he kidnapped three days ago.

You’d all been following the case since the first and second victims were found in the local park tied to trees. Both were prostitutes and still alive due to their organs being held in place by pieces of rope wrapped around the tree. You all knew they would either die slowly if you leave them, delirious and without any relief or someone would try and help them.

None of the unsub’s victims had lived long enough to be saved or help your case until you had a breakthrough hours prior with Garcia’s help.

“You alright?” Hotch quietly asks as you trail behind him, gun at the ready.

Despite the fact you had been with the BAU for just under a year now, you were still the newest member of the team and treated as so by some members. You clicked with Spencer immediately, partly due to your enthusiasm towards Doctor Who and the similarity in age. Garcia warmed to you once she had done her background check on you, only to find the last videos in your search history being ‘cute animals being clumsy for five minutes straight.’

And well, there is your section chief, your boss; Hotch. You knew he was looking out for you, as all the team as you’re all one big family.

Hotch warmed to you but didn’t always show it. He was firm, rarely smiled but was considerate to all of you. If there was any problem, he wanted to know and took the time to listen, even if it were after hours and he had a mountain of paperwork to complete. 

What you didn’t know was that Hotch liked you, more than a member of the BAU. 

“I’m fine, just want to get this son of a bitch.” You mutter in response, unaware of the smile glimpsing on Hotch’s face before his stoic expression returns as you both turn the corner, the echoed screams becoming more prominent. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Hotch ensures you’re behind him as he gives you the signal. 

You take the left side of the door whilst he covers the right, entering swiftly as you cover all bases of the room. “It’s clear.” You tell Hotch as you lower your gun momentarily, looking at the photos of the victims on the walls, smeared with blood. “God,” You sigh as Hotch moves closer. 

Lining the walls are photographs containing the victims prior to the mutilation and torture to them that resulted in being tied to those trees. “He’s been watching us.” Hotch reaffirms his suspicion, knowing the unsub was a sadist and narcissist who got off seeing his work being seen and in a twisted sense, admired. 

“That’s not all,” You speak up as you turn around, seeing jars kept on display filled with various organs. “so that’s why they couldn’t find the right kidney.” You lift your flashlight up, the unsub is keeping treasures from his victims, he’s as sadistic as you thought. “He must be here somewhere.” 

“We’re clear, do any of you have eyes on him?” Hotch speaks into his earpiece whilst you look around the room further. 

Whilst Hotch awaits a response, you hear a muffled cry beneath you. “Hotch?” You whisper before bending down to the floor with your gun in position. 

Turning around, Hotch keeps his gun aimed on the floor as you tap the plank of wood. “It’s hollow.” You mouth and Hotch nods as you stand back up whilst Hotch moves the rug concealing the next plank of wood, revealing a hinge. 

“Stay alert.” Hotch sternly tells you as he lifts the three connected planks of wood, hitting the shelving of jars as they smash to the ground. 

There’s no time to react as you follow Hotch down the steps into the concealed basement. You survey the room as does Hotch with your flashlights, seeing glimpses of weapons and surgical equipment, but no sign of Alisia. 

“Hotch, is that-” Before you can finish your sentence, a pair of arms wrap around you. One is secured over your mouth as your gun falls to the ground whilst the other holds a gun to your head. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hotch states as he holds his gun up to the unsubs head, trying not to focus on your wide eyes as you struggle in the unsub’s grip. 

“Why, you want this one safe, huh? Well, this city wanted the other girls safe, look where that lead them.” He spits out with a short laugh causing your stomach to turn. 

“There’s no way out of this, so let her go.” Hotch remains calm as you lower your gaze, trying to hold back tears knowing your likelihood out of this is close to 60/40; Hotch has a precise aim, but there’s a gun against your head and the trigger could be pulled before Hotch has a chance to shoot. 

If Reid were here, he could give you the exact statistic of you making it out. He’d be able to time it all out, but you didn’t want to focus on that as the gun was pressed further against your temple and the unsub’s breathing was getting heavier against your skin.

“I could go many ways,” The unsub taunts as he drags you backwards, a muffled whimper leaving your lips as Hotch tries to remain focused on the unsub, ignoring the tears forming in your eyes. “a full shoot out, but then you’d never find the last girl.” He tutted, quickly followed by a short laugh that sent a shiver through your body.

“No one has to die, we can talk about this.” Hotch seethes through his teeth, glancing down for a split second to see you pointing down to the unsub’s foot as you move your own away, hoping Hotch would get the message.

Shaking his head, the unsub looks back to you. Moving his hand off of your mouth, you gasp for breath as he begins to stroke your hair. “You’re prettier than the others,” He chuckles as you try to move from his hold, but he grips your hair, pulling your head back. “just think what I can do with you.” He whispers, and at that moment whilst the unsub’s focus is on you, Hotch fires directly to the unsub’s leg.

A loud scream follows as the unsub releases you, giving you time to grab your gun as you shoot at his arm.

But you’re not fast enough as a shot is fired by the unsub, hitting you in the arm. You bite back a cry, knowing the unsub is not done and won’t go down easy.

Hotch then fires one more time, shooting the unsub in his other leg which sends him to the ground, dropping his gun aside.

Resting his foot on the unsub’s back, Hotch looks over to you as he holds the handcuffs. “Do you want to do the honours?” He tries to disguise the humour in his tone as you smile, but Hotch can tell it’s insincere. 

You can’t help but look down at the unsub who is laughing at you. “Go ahead,” You tell Hotch as you step aside, allowing him to lead the cuffed unsub up the stairs of the basement where the rest of the team is awaiting the three of you.

Once you’re all outside, you cross your arms over your chest to cradle your left arm as you watch the police car with the unsub drive away whilst Alisia is sitting in the back of an ambulance, badly injured, but alive nonetheless.

“So, Hotch shot the unsub three times?” Reid speaks up, and your focus shifts to Spencer as Hotch nods. “But I heard four shots.” Spencer states.

Now Hotch tenses as he turns to face you, noticing your lack of engagement despite how eager you were to find Alisia alive, yet you’ve barely spoken two words since you got out of the basement.

“Y/n?” Hotch moves aside as you follow him, hearing mutters from the team teasing you about being in trouble.

Placing his hand on your left arm, he sadly doesn’t miss the wince that leaves your lips or the split second your eyes widen.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch’s tone becomes quieter, but more pressing, nonetheless.

A small sigh sounds from you as Hotch looks down to his fingertips, seeing they’re coated in crimson.

“He shot me, but it’s nothing serious, Hotch, the bullet isn’t lodged.” You explain, trying to shrug it off, but Hotch’s expression tells you that isn’t happening.

Without saying anything else, Hotch rests his hand on your right arm, guiding you to the nearest ambulance, not giving you the chance to protest. “She’s been shot in the arm.” He states, like you’re a student being punished and having to face the consequences.

Sitting down in the ambulance, you hold back the cry in your throat as the medic cuts away the fabric covering your arm whilst Hotch walks away, back to the team.

You can make out him saying something, and Reid’s eyes widen as he looks over to you, resulting in you giving them all a weak wave that causes Rossi to chuckle.

“Head on back to the station, I’ll wait here until Y/n has been cleared.” Hotch states, and the team disperse into cars, all except Rossi.

“You’re more smitten than a kitten who got the cream, Aaron.” Rossi jokes, glancing over Hotch’s shoulder to see you with your head down, your right hand gripping the edge of the stretcher that you’re sat on as the medic stitches your arm.

Hotch shakes his head. “It’s not like that, Dave.” Hotch insists, but Rossi is one of the best profiler’s he knows, so it doesn’t take more than a second to detect the lie. “I can’t say or do anything, I’m her superior and you know how Erin would react.”

“Leave Erin to me,” Rossi comments before patting Hotch on the shoulder. “don’t let her slip through your grasp.”

Walking away, Hotch turns around to see you now beginning to stand up as the medic nods to you.

“All clear?” Hotch questions as you snap your head up, ignoring your vision blurring as three stern faces greet you, slowly morphing back into one.

Blinking rapidly, you nod. “Medic stitched me up, just gotta take it easy for a week or so.” You smile, but the frown on Hotch’s face refuses to soften. “Do you want to lecture me now or when we’re back in Quantico?” You ask as you rock back and forth on your heels.

A slither of a smile crosses Hotch’s face before he clears his throat. “Y/n, you have to remember we’re a team here. You getting injured in the field does matter, and you can’t always shrug it off. What if things went differently? You could’ve died in that basement, and I would’ve had to live with that. I’d be the one to tell your family, I’d be the mourning you and regret everyday never telling you the truth.” Hotch explains as you nod along and then pausing at the end of his explanation.

“I know I acted out of line, Hotch. But I just don’t know or like showing weakness.” You admit as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, your vest now put to one side. “Especially around you.” You mutter before lifting your gaze up to meet his as Hotch shuffles his weight from one foot to the other.

Raising a brow, Hotch takes a step closer towards you. “What’re you trying to say, Y/L/N?”

“You’re going to make me say it?” You feign annoyance as a grin spreads across your face, unaware of the frost around Hotch’s heart beginning to melt at the sight. 

Hotch shakes his head. “Only when you’re ready,” He tells you. “come on, we should get going.” He motions towards one SUV remaining whilst the police department carry on with their assessment. 

Unsure of himself, Hotch swallows his fears as he rests his arm around you. He keeps his eyes fixated on the car but internally warms as you move closer into his embrace. 

“Does this mean I won’t be allowed on the field for a while?” You ask as you slide into the back seat next to Hotch who chuckles, something that’ll take some getting used to seeing.

As he fastens his seatbelt, he reaches to help you with yours, only to see you have done it already despite the sling on your arm. 

“We’ll talk about that when we’re back in Quantico, Y/n.” He tells you quietly, seeing your eyes beginning to droop. “Take a nap, I’ll let you know when we’re almost there.” Hotch mutters as you try to fight the tiredness as the adrenaline rush is leaving your system. 

A small yawn leaves your lips as you rest your head on Hotch’s shoulder. “Thanks, Hotch.” You glance up to him. 

“Aaron,” Hotch mutters. “call me Aaron.” 

“Okay,” You whisper as your hand reaches for his, squeezing it ever so gently. “thank you, Aaron.” You add before closing your eyes, missing the sight of a bright smile you’ll soon see plenty of. 

[tessiete]

If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise. 

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous. 

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon. 

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

--

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway. 

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go. 

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again. 

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is. 

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74​​​​, and @winchest09​​​​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​​​​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Hello, son.”

     Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

 ��   What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

     Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N. 

     Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”      Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

     The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.”      “Dean? Are you s--”      “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice. 

     John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son.      “That your girlfriend?” he wonders.      “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

     Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He  allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

     Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son. 

     Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.”      More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.”     “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

     Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others.      “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

     John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

     “I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.” 

     Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

     John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

     Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

     “John Winchester!”      Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now. 

     The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns.      “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly.      “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

     Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

     Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew.      “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns.      Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in.      “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures.      With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously. 

     Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

     Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery.      “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable.      He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath. 

     “Dean?”      Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

     Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod.      “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

     Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth.      “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset.      The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?”      “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says.      “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

     Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates. 

     “Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble.      “What?” she snaps.      Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look.      “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her.      But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

     Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand.      “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--”      “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

     With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well.      “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

     Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss.      “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?”      Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong.      “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone.      “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

     Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

     Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

     “Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate.      “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts.      “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers.      “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

     The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself. 

     Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

     She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

     Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

     Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

     Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now.      “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

     Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

     Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly.      “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?”      The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled.      “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

     They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

     “Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.”      “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.”      Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

     The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting.      “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed.      “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.”      Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way. 

     “Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.”      Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.”      “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects.      “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope.      “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.” 

     Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share.      The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go.     “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.”      “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

     As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

     Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables.      “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned.      “No,” Y/N bitterly answers.      “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?”      “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

     “What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her.      “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.”      Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?”      “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--”      “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!”      “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression.      Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?”      Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

     Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

     “We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.”      Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?”      “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

     Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension.      “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N  brings up.      “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.”      Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?” 

     “You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.”      “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

     Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

     “Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--”      “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises.      Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

     They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well.      “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls.      “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?”      But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

     The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic. 

     Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

     Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

     Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again. 

     Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does.      “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

     But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls.      “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

     Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again.      “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

     The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

     “What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar.      He scoffs. “What does it look like?”      “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him.      “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach.      “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?”      Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded.      “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

     The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches. 

     When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms.      “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops.      The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?”      “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips.      “John showing up here is not y—”      “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

     He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible.      “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

     But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

     “Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

     The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i--      “You called dibs on me?”

     Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair.      “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--”      But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

     After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul.      “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

     Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

     “So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?”      The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.”      “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--”      “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

     Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

     “Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover.      “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside.      Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer.      “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

     The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing. 

     “It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.”      She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--”      “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--”      “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her.      “I CAN’T!!” 

     Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now. 

     “I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

     Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs?      “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

     Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up.      “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her.      “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately.      But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie.      “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.”      She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them.      “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left.      “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.” 

     The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that?      Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

     The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her.      “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.”      Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did.      “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?”      Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go.      “Yeah. We’re over.”

     Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

     Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on. 

     After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it. 

     Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face. 

     He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers. 

     “Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables.      Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation. 

     The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form. 

     Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before. 

     She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

     The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy. 

     Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

     Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

[hellsenthero]

Indistinct | Chapter 2.

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X Femreader

As a shapeshifter you’ve done some heavy spy work, jobs that no one else is capable of. It’s what you’re used to but it’s no longer where you’re needed for. Now after years of working solo SHIELD has assigned you as part of the Avengers and it’s there that you’ll face your most difficult times. But maybe with the help of a certain dark haired, blue eyed super soldier that you have a history with, things won’t be so bad...right?

Indistinct Masterlist  (Series is complete.) 

Chapter 1. < Chapter 2 curent > Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. 

Warnings/Themes: Flangst. (1.4K Words.)

**********

Y/N walked down the concrete hallway, a man by the name of Kev leading her way, a gun hanging lazily around his shoulder, within quick reach if trouble came up. She tossed a strand of black hair over her shoulder, her blue eyes surveying her surroundings. Her name was Addison Wade for this particular mission, a girl that would be gone forever as soon as she finished her job here. A ghost Hydra would never be able to find again. 

A metal door swung open before the pair, Kev leading the way into a room full of cryo chambers. Five, ten, fifteen chambers all lined against the walls, men and women frozen asleep inside each one.There were so many to look at but it was the chamber in the front that caught the woman’s attention. 

“The Winter Soldier,” Kev said proudly as he pointed at the chamber, as though he was showing off a new car, “he’s the best we got, but we’ve been having some issues with his training lately.” 

“What kind of issues?” Kev turned back around to face Y/N, his face dropping into a serious look. 

“He keeps killing his trainers.” A shudder crawled up Y/N’s spine, but she nodded her head all the same. SHIELD had sent her into Hydra as a trainer in the hopes that she’d be able to gain as much information from them as possible while also gaining knowledge of how things ran at the base. The plan had worked so far, she’d been there for a few months before they wanted her to train bigger, better soldiers, all while remaining completely clueless about the woman’s shapeshifting ability. 

“I thought he was programmed to listen to all orders?” 

“He was, is…” Kev gave a long sigh, “he’s been difficult to control lately and you’re going to help us amend that. We can’t have him disobeying us any longer or it might be time to kill him off.” Y/N gave a quick nod. 

“Understood.”

Y/N doesn’t know why, but Bucky hadn’t ratted her out to the team, yet. After the sparring match he’d practically dragged her out of the training room and to his bedroom, the only secluded place he could think of at the time. 

Sitting on his bed Y/N looked up at the man before her, his chest puffed with anger and fists clenched emotion. 

“What the fuck are you really doing here?” He growled out through clenched teeth. His blue eyes alight with flame. 

“To work as part of the Avengers.” The woman answered coolly. 

“Bullshit,” Bucky seethes, taking a step closer, his face lowering until he’s nearly nose to nose with Y/N, “you work for Hydra.” Y/N shook her head, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

“I used to work for Hydra and when I did I was still under SHIELD.” With a turn of his head Bucky shows his confusion. Y/N rolled her eyes, not particularly frightened by the Winter Soldiers anger towards her. “I worked as a double agent, Bucky. I acted as a trainer for Hydra but really I collected information from them and fed it back to SHIELD.” Another shake of Bucky’s head earned another roll of Y/N’s eyes. 

“How long did it go on for?” Bucky pressed. Y/N pressed her lips together, letting out a low hum. 

“That’s classified.” 

“Fine, then how long did you train me for?” Another low hum. 

“Five years.” Bucky stared at Y/N, seeming to process what she’d just said.

“I just… you…”

“Look different? Kinda comes with the territory as a shapeshifter, Bucky.” Y/N says coolly. Bucky shifts on his feet, his eyes looking the woman over as though he’s envisioning the dark haired, blue eyed woman he knew before when he was the Winter Soldier. 

“You trained me for Hydra. I killed innocents and you-”

“There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about the consequences of my actions. About the lives lost because of me.” Y/N’s throat clenched tightly with emotion, her hands fisted tightly in her lap, her nails pressing half moon indents into her palms. “But I had limited choice in matters then, and I did the best with the cards I was dealt with.” Bucky nods, sitting down beside the woman on the end of the bed, folding his hands in his lap.

“I don’t remember much about my time in the bases. The... the deaths, yes, but at the base between getting my mind wiped and the cryo I don’t remember much.” Y/N nodded her head, already knowing about Bucky's limited memory. “Can you tell me about it?” He asks, his voice a touch softer. 

“You sure?” Y/N asks, “We both know Hydra was an awful place, awful times. They won’t be good memories.” Bucky turns his head to Y/N, shifting closer as he looks into her hazel eyes. 

“I know. Tell me.”

So Y/N told him. 

“Stop,” Y/N called out to the soldier. He did, taking a step back he shook off the blood that covered his knuckles, turning his stare onto his trainer, his blue eyes glassy. “You’re done for the day.” Y/N looked away from her trainee, his dead stare too unnerving to continue to look at. 

“I failed.” Bucky says, his voice gruff from lack of use. 

“No soldier, you didn’t fail. It’s just time to clean up.” It was true, while Bucky wasn’t listening to her orders he was still doing well. 

It started when they first met, little, fleeting glimpses of a kinder, more righteous man behind the wall Hydra built up inside his mind. Over the course of their training Y/N worked to chip away at the facade of the Winter Soldier in order to reach the man beneath. It wasn’t part of her mission for SHIELD, but it was a mission Y/N intended to fulfil all the same. 

“Go.” Y/N ordered. With a nod of his head the soldier turned to leave. “Wait,” Bucky stopped, turning around he looked back at his trainer, “do you know your name?” It was a question Y/N asked every time they met up and even though she knew what his answer would be, she didn’t stop asking. 

“What name?” He asked, because to him, he didn’t have one. He was Soldier to Y/N and Soldat to the rest, so what name could she have been talking about? 

“Nothing,” Y/N sighed, “you’re free to go.”

“I tried to help you as much as I could when I was there.” Y/N admitted to Bucky. The man looked at her, curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes. 

“Why?”

“Because you weren’t like the others. You didn’t choose to work for Hydra, you didn’t choose to follow their orders and you didn’t choose to kill all those people on missions. They made you do that, they tortured you and played with you to a point where you had no control over anything. So I tried to spare you from as much as I could as your trainer, and I tried to help you remember who you were.” Bucky shook his head, his dark hair falling around his face. 

“I didn’t deserve that.” He said quietly. 

“What?” Y/N asked, her brows furrowed as she leaned in a little closer to the soldier. 

“I didn’t deserve that, your help. I didn’t deserve your help.”

“Bucky, no. Of course you deserved help then, you still do.” Bucky shook his head, his hands rubbing his thighs in agitation. 

“Get out.” Y/N shook her head, her hand reaching out to touch Bucky’s arm but he didn't let her. Jerking up from his spot on the bed he stands up, pointing towards the door as he stares down at the woman. “I said get out.”

“Bucky-” Y/N tries but the man won’t listen to her. 

“Get. Out.” Silently, Y/N stands up, with a last fleeting look at Bucky she turns and leaves his room. 

The door shuts with a click, the lock sliding into place almost immediately and Y/N is left standing alone in the foyer. 

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

Want to read more? Here’s my masterlist. 

[thatfanficstuff]

Nightingale’s Song - 13

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: mild torture/ discussions of torture

***

When they arrived at the jet everyone was waiting for them. As soon as they were on board, the ramp closed behind them and moments later they were lifting off. Anna watched as Steve secured Bucky at both the wrists and ankles before running a chain between them and through a metal hoop on the floor. He was still out and slumped forward.

Her gaze moved from him to the other two restrained in much the same manner. They’d rescued them all. Relief flooded through her. She could only hope that they could bring them back to the people they were meant to be without Hydra’s interference.

Isolde moved to Bucky first, Loki following closely behind her. Anna bit her lip as the other woman placed her hands on Bucky’s head. Someone stepped up behind Anna and she knew it was Steve without looking. She leaned back and he wrapped an arm around her. “We’ll get him back, Anna. We have to.”

She nodded because what else could she do. If Bucky didn’t come back to them, if only the Winter Soldier remained, she would have to kill him. It would be the only way the love of her life would find peace. And it would be her that brought it to him. She wouldn’t let Steve live with that burden even though she knew he would do it to keep her from carrying it herself.

Isolde turned and looked at the two of them with a shake of her head. “He is badly damaged. I have done some minor repairs to keep him calm when he wakes, but it will better if we can bring him back organically. It will be that much less damage we need to repair. I will take another look at him when he wakes.”

“Thank you,” Anna said with a quiet voice. She turned her face into Steve’s chest as she struggled against the tears that tried to fall. It wasn’t hopeless. Not yet.

“As much as I don’t want to interrupt this little cuddle session, I thought you might like your present now, Ms. Charles.”

Anna turned to find Tony grinning from ear to ear. “Present?”

He motioned for her to follow and walked off to another part of the jet. They reached a small door and Tony opened it before stepping aside. There on the floor was the Doctor. Her gaze darted from the man, who quite frankly looked terrified, and back to the billionaire. “That’s a lovely gift. Thank you, Tony.”

He gave her a nod and a cheeky smile before walking away.

“Who is this guy, Anna?” Steve asked behind her.

She pursed her lips and pulled out one of her blades. “This is the Doctor, Steve. I have questions about the validity of his degrees myself.” He grasped her wrist lightly before she could step away from him.

He leaned forward so his lips were only a breath from her ear. “What are you planning on doing to him?”

“Don’t worry, Captain. I promise to contain the mess.” She pulled from her friend’s grasp and stepped into the room before shutting the door behind her. Surely there were cameras in here but her target didn’t know that. No, as far as he was concerned, he’d just been left to the tender mercies of one of his assets.

She flipped the knife in her hand as she stepped across the floor, her eyes never leaving the Doctor. In the midst of everything else, she saw his confusion. It took her a moment to realize it was because he’d heard her speaking to Steve and Tony. “Ah. You’re wondering when I regained the ability for speech. Never lost it. I was just tired of talking to you. I wasn’t going to be used by you anymore.” As she said the last, she ran the point of her blade from his temple to his chin.

He gasped in pain and jerked away.

She patted his cheek with her hand. “No tears, Doctor. There’s no reason to cry yet. We will be spending a great deal of time together you and I and I have so many plans for you.”

With that she turned and walked away, shutting the door behind her and locking it from the outside when she left. When she returned to the others, it was silent where they gathered around a monitor on the wall. Cameras. She grabbed a rag to wipe the blood from her knife. “Watch that wound. See how long it takes to heal.”

When no one responded she glanced up. Steve wore that pinched expression he got when he was worried or unsettled. Tony’s eyebrows were lifted in surprise while Raven Barton and Natasha watched her with something akin to understanding in their gaze. The Asgardians were by the prisoners, talking amongst themselves and Clint was flying the jet. The silence continued to stretch and Anna sighed before slipping her knife back into its sheath.

“When I woke up for the first time in Hydra’s possession. I was greeted by that man. When I asked who he was, he told me I would get to know him as we would be spending a great deal of time together. When I cried, he told me there was no reason yet. When I begged to be sent home, he told me I was home and they had so many plans for me.” She stepped forward, keeping her eyes glued to the man on the screen. “I was terrified and alone. He reminded me of that every single day as I was tortured and experimented upon. When Hydra no longer allowed him his fun, I rarely saw him. Just often enough to know he was still alive and looking as hale and hearty as ever.”

“What do you mean they wouldn’t allow him his fun?” Steve asked. Pain mixed with equal parts fury in his tone.

Anna sighed as she dropped onto the bench that ran along the side of the plane. Her shoulders hunched forward and she rested her elbows on her knees. “I heard them talking one night. They intended to see if I could bring Bucky’s memories back simply so they could see what they could get him to do to spare me their torment. I decided I would no longer do as they wished. Regardless of the consequences for me, I would not allow them to hurt Bucky that way. I couldn’t.”

Steve sat beside her and took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

She smiled and leaned back so her head rested on the wall behind her. “When the Doctor came in the next day, I was uncooperative. Mouthy. He decided I needed to be punished. He left my cell. When the door opened again, Bucky stood there. The Doctor gave him an order and he marched over to me and slit my throat. Then he left.” She patted Steve’s hand so he’d loosen his grip a bit. “Even though I healed, I didn’t talk. They couldn’t expect me to bring his memories back if I couldn’t communicate with him. The powers that be at Hydra decided my healing power was too important to risk losing so they ordered the Doctor to cease his experimenting. God, he was pissed.”

“I have to admit when you said Winter slit your throat and left you for dead, I assumed you were exaggerating,” Natasha said with a slightly arched brow.

“That would have been preferable,” Anna agreed.

“And that was the last time you saw him before today?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.”

Raven crossed her arms and shook her head. “No wonder you froze for a minute. That’s some serious shit to live with.”

Everyone just watched her for a moment but Anna had nothing else to say. Eventually she’d have to talk about all the shit Hydra did to both her and Bucky, but not right now. Her gaze shifted back to the screen as the doctor wiped blood from the side of his face. “Cut’s healed.”

They all looked at the screen. After a moment, Natasha glanced back to her with a small smirk. “Well, he’ll be fun to play with.”

[happys-crazy-queen22]

No One Messes With Our Son

Gif credit @tylerlockwood

Requested on wattpad

Hope you all enjoy

Happy reading dollies

Taglist: @nocturnalherb16 @jesseswartzwelder

Warning: kidnapping, school shooters that are kids, gang recruiting of young kids.

"I'll drop Damon at school then I'll met you at work". You spoke to Kevin while stuffing Damon's books into his backpack as he ate his breakfast.

"Sounds good". Kevin mumbled with a mouth full of food.

"Lovely". You rolled your eyes with a laugh. Kevin pulled you into his arms.

"I'll see you then sexy mama". He kissed your lips.

"Gross, I'm trying to eat and I want to keep it down". Damon scoffed and grabbed his bag off the counter. You giggled into Kevin's shoulder.

"Boy, I'll remember that when you want to kiss your wife in front of me". Kevin patted your butt and he followed his son to the door. "Especially at your wedding. I'm getting up just as you're about to kiss her and go nuh huh, gross". He shook his finger in his sons face with a chuckle.

Damon stood there with a straight face. "Can we go now"?

"Yes, big baby". You had your keys in hand, grabbed another kiss and had your booty smacked again from Kevin before walking out. Damon groaned.

"Just get in the car". You told him with a giggle. This was one way to torture your son.

On the way to the school the ride was quiet, Damon didn't have anything to say which was unusual for him. Usually he's talking your head off but today was different.

Pulling up to the school you stopped. Taking your hand you gently took Damon's chin in your hand and made him look at you.

"You okay, baby"?

"I'm fine". He said with a sigh.

"If you want we can blow off school and go to the station. I'll call your teacher and tell them your sick or something". You offered, knowing he would jump at the chance to skip school.

"No thanks. I better get going. Love you mom". He put his backpack on and hopped out of the car, running to the group of boys that were huddled into a circle.

You watched for awhile seeing if something was wrong but they started laughing and playing around like normal teenagers so you let out a breath and headed to work.

Walking up the stairs to the station everyone was already working. You walked over to Kevin, wrapping your arms around his neck as he sat in his chair.

"You alright"? He rubbed your arms.

"Yeah, just worried about Damon. He seemed like something was wrong or concerning him".

"He's a teenager so it could be anything".

"He didnt want to skip school. He'd give his right arm to skip school and he has". You remembered when Damon broke his arm and got out of a test. He was so happy getting out of school.

"Oh. That's not good. I'll talk to him once he gets home. It'll be alright. Don't worry".

"I'm his mom. I worry". Kevin kissed your cheek and you headed to your desk to start the day.

Soon your mom instincts were right something was up but not with your son.

"Hey Kev, Y/N where does Damon go to school"? Adam asked from his desk while on the phone.

"That all boys fancy school. I cant remember". Kevin tried to think.

"Carters prep. Why"? You asked with a chuckle.

"There was a call saying there's been a gun man seen on the premises".

You didnt think, you just ran down the stairs and to your car. The team and Kevin behind you racing to the school.

"Please let Damon be okay". You prayed as you drove up to the school entrance.

"What's going on"? You asked the on scene officer.

"Four kids are missing and there's a gun man wandering the halls. We have the place surrounded but haven't seen any gun. We tapped into the cameras but there's nothing out of the ordinary".

"Four kids missing is not out of the ordinary"? You scoffed. This guy must not have kids.

"They could be skipping or just hanging out in the bathroom. Joking around".

"Either way. We need to find those kids and the gun man". You ordered as Kevin came up behind you.

"You're going to want to see this". Kevin's voice sounded distraught and it worried you.

Following him to the computer where Adam was watching the camera's.

"What's going on"?

"Damon was seen being pulled into a classroom. He wasn't fighting back". Adam gulped. Damon was his little nephew and he couldn't bare to think about what may or may not have happened.

"We need to get there. I don't care if you send just me. But one way or another I'm going in there to get my son". The panic was sitting in as you spoke to Hank. He knew it too.

"Alright. We all go in. Jay, Adam and Antonio take the front. Kevin, Y/N and I will take the side while the others take the back. Got it"?

"Yes, sir".

"You okay"? Kevin pulled you aside.

"Not until I get our son out and know that he's safe". You walked away, holding back tears.

"Let's move in". Hank ordered.

Entering the school, it was quiet and seemed like a ghost town. It had a eerie feeling as you walked through the halls.

"Which room, mouse"? You asked over your ear piece.

"Room 321. Down the hall and to the left". Mouse reported back.

The three of you tip toed down the hall, getting almost at the corner.

"Guys incoming. Gun man or should I say gun kid standing at the door".

"Kids"? Hank repeated.

"Yeah, he's wearing a school uniform. Looks about 14. Maybe younger".

Hank haulted everyone. "Mouse is there another way to get to the room"?

"Go back down the hall and take a right. Then a left. Then another left. You'll cut him off".

"Alright. Kevin, you take that way and Y/N and I will give you a go when we're ready".

"Be safe". You told Kevin. He sent you a wink and headed down the hall.

"I'm here, Serg".

"Alright. On my count. One. Two Go".

Hank and you rushed to the door. The boy saw you coming and immediately dropped his gun on the floor. When he saw Kevin walk up with a gun he laid on the floor and started sobbing.

Kevin picked the boy up and handed him over to a uniform that came in.

"Is there any more in there with guns"? Kevin asked the boy.

"One more. We didnt mean anything by it. They said we could get in". He cried.

"Get in? Get in what"? You questioned.

"The gang. We were told that if we took over the school they'd let us join them. They gave us the guns. I didnt want to do but Marus said we had too".

"Marcus Turner"?

"Yeah".

The officer took the boy away from more questioning.

"Turner's recruiting boys from private schools now"? Hank scoffed.

"The kids on the streets know to stay away from him if they want to live to see tomorrow". Kevin replied.

"What's our son have to do with Turner"?

"He's has cops for parents. What's most street thing you can have in your crew? A kid that has cops as your parents. Its saying screw you".

"I'm going to kick that kids butt". You growled.

"Okay. Let's move in". Hank opened the door and there was Damon on the ground with two other boys while another stood there with a gun.

"Drop it now". Kevin ordered. You ran over to Damon.

"Are you okay"? You checked over him. He seemed fine.

"I'm alright. Have a headache". He groaned as he rubbed his head.

"What happened"? You asked the boys around him. While Kevin cuffed the boy with the gun.

"Damon didnt want to come so Jason smacked him with his gun and dragged him in here". One boy said.

"Okay, let's get you to an ambulance". You helped Damon up and got him out of the school to an awaiting ambulance.

"He may have a concussion. He needs to be looked over". The EMT said. You nodded and held Damon's hand.

"I'm sorry, mom".

"Theres no need to be sorry. You didnt know this was going to happen".

"I did".

"What"? You asked shocked.

"I knew they were coming with guns. But I thought they would chicken out because when Marcus gave them the guns Jason peed his pants. I didnt think they would do this. We were just joking about getting into the gang".

"Do you know what could have happened if they actually shot and killed someone? You could have prevented this by telling me or your dad. Damon I'm very disappointed in you. I put you in private school so you would stay away from drugs and gangs but you directly went to one and tried to get involved. This is not you". This was not your son and you couldnt believe that he was one of five causing this.

"I'm sorry mom. I really am". He cried.

"We have taught you from right and wrong. We taught you to never go near a gun. We told you about what drugs and people like Turner could do to you but you completely ignored it and now you're in a mess of trouble. There will be serious consequences for this and I hope Voight doesn't go easy on you".

"I'm sorry". He cried harder as they loaded him into the ambulance. Kevin came up behind you wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Did do go wrong with him"?

"No. We lead him in the right direction but peer pressure is more powerful than a parents love". Kevin held you tightly.

After Damon was checked out and seen that he was going to be okay. He was made to write an apology letter to the school and the community. Hank made him do community service with ex gang members. They told him about why they got out and why they wished they never got in. He washed all the police vehicles and helped out at the station never leaving your sight. Kevin and you kept a better eye on him and his so called friends.

[love-a-little-less-archived]

So I decided that for my day nine, I’d do a list of some of my favorite fics to give the fandom authors some recognition. Of course, all of our fanfic authors are amazing and I’m so grateful that they do what they do, but these are just a few of my favorites. 

I tried to tag any authors that had a tumblr account, but it’s entirely possible I missed some, so if I did, sorry

This post isn’t super long but it’s pretty damn long so all below the cut

(also do note that my interest in bellarke is only a few months old so I have a lot more clexa fics than I do bellarke sorry)

Bellarke

Canon AU

Set The Dark On Fire by @talistheintrovert (complete)

Okay okay so this is a pretty dark fic, but god is it beautiful. After waking up from Cryo, Clarke and Spacekru try to figure out what to do about this new planet situation, but Clarke isn’t handling it very well and attempts a suicide. Like I said, pretty dark and serious, so if that isn’t your thing don’t read, but it’s amazing

Three Lives, Three Loves, One Face by @these-dreams-go-on (complete)

This fic has a ton of my favorite themes all mashed together and it’s amazing. Basically it’s similar to the Josephine!Clarke situation of s6, but Wanheda is an actual manifestation also inhabiting Clarke’s body so when Josie gets put into Clarke, Wanheda takes over and goes mass murder on Sanctum. Phenomenal fic, I’ve read it so many times and I adore it

Into The Anomaly by @fuckitup-in-style (WIP)

Time Travel AU!!! Starts after s6, but resets back to s1 canon divergence. The hundred all wake up on dropships and they all remember up until their deaths, and then it’s this thing where the mains all take charge and start herding up their crew. Just- if you like time travel fix-its, this is p e r f e c t please read it

And Now You’re Home by @asroarke (complete)

I just read this one recently and g o d is it amazing. After being left alone during Praimfaya, Clarke finds herself becoming desperate after being alone for so long. Until she finds out there’s been a grounder watching her the whole time. Grounder!Bellamy AU, with some accidental pregnancy that just makes it even cuter

Modern AU

I Found Peace in Your Violence by @eyessharpweaponshot (WIP)

I just found this fic a few days ago and holy shit is it a piece of art. I finally went through and read the entire 80k fic last night, it’s absolutely enthralling. Basically, there’s this gene called HTS and Clarke ends up having it, and so does Bellamy, and it’s just a beautiful story from both a romance and a plot standpoint. Such an interesting concept

our stars came in a packet of two by @millipop (WIP)

This isn’t a super long fic, it’s 20k right now and hasn’t been updated in a few months but what’s there is amazing. So the delinquent group is desperately trying to get Bellamy and Clarke together since they’re constantly denying their chemistry, but what the delinquents don’t know is that Clarke and Bell have actually already been together in secret and it’s such a fun fic, highly recommend

Don’t Wake Me, I’m Not Dreaming by grumpybell (complete) (I can’t find their tumblr sorry)

A very interesting AU where Clarke can see into other people’s dreams. She’s been meeting Bellamy in his dreams for years, him being the only person who could actually see her. Guess what happens when they meet in person? Probably not what you expect. Read the fic to find out, you’ll love it

reelin’ through the midnight streets by @detectivebellamyblake​ (WIP)

I haven’t finished this fic yet, but what I’ve read so far is wonderful. Basically Clarke, Bell and Octavia all grew up in a trailer park together, and eventually Clarke has had enough of her mom’s bullshit and decides to get out. Bellamy and Octavia go with her

Clexa

Canon AU

Broken Body, Broken Spirit by @vmplvr1977 (complete)

I love love love this fic!! It basically mashes together the worlds of The 100 and Deus-ex, and if you don’t know what the latter is don’t worry too much, the fic gives all the backstory you’ll need!! Basically Clarke gets severly injured and ends up with augmented limbs, and Lexa, thinking Clarke dead, has some pretty severe reactions to it all. Kind of an enemies-to-lovers, but it’s set after the s2 finale

Clarke Kom Azgeda by FMLClexa (WIP)

This fic combines so many of my favorite ideas it’s amazing. Coming back after a long hiatus, basically Clarke gets sent down to Earth alone and ends up in Azgeda territory. She’s tortured and trained into Nia’s top assassin for years, and eventually gets the order to infiltrate Polis and kill the commander. You can guess how that goes

A Riffle and the Sea by Follower_Of_Mania (complete)

I will say it’s been a while since I read this fic but it’s amazing. Another Clarke gets sent to Earth alone AU, but she gets adopted by Floukru and trained to be a seriously badass killer grounder, like even Lexa is pretty put off by her. Clarke and Lexa develop this really interesting relationship where half the time you can’t tell if they love or hate each other and it’s amazing

Ascendants by whiteleopard1124 (WIP)

So this isn’t entirely clexa, it’s also clarke x luna but it’s clexa enough. Basically Clarke and the hundred get injected with this solution before being sent to the ground, and it causes certain people to develop supernatural powers. But Clarke gets injected with a special serum that causes her to be extra-OP but like in a very very good way

doing the impossible (with you) by snowandwolves (WIP)

Another Time Travel AU where Clarke kills herself and, after having a discussion with the goddess of death herself, wakes up back in time. She (and her accomplices) work out how to rewrite their story and make everything go better than it did last time. One of the best time travel fics, in my opinion

Healer on the Ground by Owlmemaybe (WIP)

This has long been one of my favorite fics, I love AUs where Clarke turns grounder, and that’s exactly what this is. Basically Clarke has a healing talent, so she can heal herself and others on command, and during s1 gets separated from the 100 and ends up with Heda. Another fic that isn’t likely to get updated, but it’s 100k of goodness that you h a v e to read

Whispers In The Dark (Lead Us To The Light) by JadelynDeath (WIP)

This one also hasn’t been updated very recently, but it’s still 50k good words to enjoy. Wanheda!Clarke AU where Death is a real being and takes a liking to Clarke before she even touches the ground, and once on Earth Clarke is an absolute badass in leading the delinquents.

(my) Destruction Within Your Mouth by @entirelytookeen (WIP)

It took me so long to actually finish this fic once I started reading because oh my god the angst, it was actually too much for me. This is a beautifully written story, so many emotions, can’t recommend it enough. Basically, Clarke gets separated from the 100 and ends up temporarily mute while she’s taken in by Heda

She’s a maniac by ChocDog (complete)

Another big-time favorite, this has badass commanders Heda and Wanheda. The grounder culture is different in this fic, but in such a good way. They’re much more tribal than is portrayed in the show, preferring not much clothing, bloodthirstiness, but it’s amazing. Also Bellamy comes in and makes a fuss of things

Through the Looking Glass by RhinoMouse (WIP)

Role Reversal AU where Lexa comes down with the 100 and Clarke is a BAMF Commander of the grounders. It’s been a really long time since I’ve read this one but I remember loving every second of it. Faintly follows the s2 plot, but it’s different enough that not a second of it is boring

Can you See Me? by clexawarrior (complicated)

Okay so basically this story was discontinued, but the author left a summary of how it would’ve played out at the end, so it’s... complicated. But this is another one of my favorites!! Lexa was at the explosion on the bridge and got injured, Clarke brings her back to the dropship to care for her. A lot of sexual tension ensues

From The Ashes by ArchonsVoice (complete)

I love love love this fic!!! So basically the dropship landed in the sea rather than on land, the ship explodes, leaving Clarke stranded alone in the middle of the ocean. She’s rescued by a clan called Tseekru and after years of living with them, has a run-in with our one and only Heda and sets this whole thing going. Amazing fic, so many twists

Returning to Hell by ElseworldKara, littleraider99 (complete)

If you haven’t read this fic what have you even been doing honestly. Set two years after the s2 finale, Clarke leads the coalition beside Heda, and she’s returned to Arkadia to finally tell them to get their shit together or suffer the consequences. Very dark, a lot of character bashing on Abby, Bellamy, and others. An inspiration for many of my own fics

Then There Were Two by TheWorldNeedsMoreOctaven (WIP)

I haven’t read the most recent chapters of this, but it’s phenomenal. ABO universe where Clarke is the only omega sent down in the hundred (later followed by Raven), and they have to deal with the grounders and nature. It’s a lot more interesting than I make it sound, promise. Also very octavia/raven based too

Doctor on the Ground by @underneaththecovers-au (WIP)

Very angsty, very smutty fic. Clarke finds an injured Lexa while out of camp and takes her to the bunker to help her heal. Lexa pretends she can’t understand English, but even with the barrier, things get heated very quickly. You can imagine the chaos when Lexa’s secret gets out. Must-read

Modern AU

Vantage Point by thatoneloser_kid (complete)

This is pretty short, only 16k words, but god is it good. If you like dark!clarke, this is the story for you. Clarke, Lexa, Octavia, and Raven are all a bunch of criminals who run around- saving people?? That makes it sound like a superhero story but no, they’re all badass. Clarke is literally a psychopathic ex-assassin. It’s just an amazing fic

Are You A Kidnapper? (Because You Abducted My Heart) by 707 (complete)

This isn’t normally the type of fic that I like to read but I’m so glad I picked it up. So Clarke and Lexa have this hatred going on between them that’s actually just hidden attraction, and they’re finally forced to address it when they get kidnapped and locked in a room together. This fic has it all, fluff, smut, angst, an amazing plot, it’s just all around wonderful

Make Two Halves Whole by awkwardrainbow, Lexawoodz (WIP)

This one I also don’t remember all that much about other than that it was amazing. It’s been years since it was updated, though, so I doubt we’ll get any more, but what’s there is 80k worth of goodness. Clarke and Lexa meet online through Twitter, living on opposite sides of the US, but still manage to fall in love with each other

breathe into my lips the life i do not have by @ur-the-puppy (complete)

So this is another long-time favorite of mine!! It’s a 36k oneshot where Clarke moves into a house that ghost Lexa haunts but instead of being creeped out Clarke just starts chatting up the ghost and they become roommate buddies. Such a good fic, I highly highly recommend this one

You See the Smile That's On My Mouth (it's hiding the words that don't come out) by heartshapedcandy (complete)

Another fic I need to go back and reread, but I remember being absolutely absorbed in this fic!! Childhood friends to lovers AU, with a fuck ton of angst and confusion and oblivious pining dorks that you can’t help but love it to death. Also a lot of ‘’’’platonic’’’’ kissing

Other AU

Storm of the Heart by @cruellanita-bby (WIP)

Mermaid AU!! Clarke lives on an island where they grow up hating the mermaids that attack their fishing ships, and she hates them too until she finds Lexa the mermaid washed up on the shore, injured, and starts taking care of her. They fall in love and try to mend the relationship between their people. I’ve been keeping up with this one for a while, it’s so good, please read it

Hold Me Till The Stars Dim by @ur-the-puppy (complete)

I’m putting this one down here rather than in modern AU just because of how different it is from most modern AUs. Lexa goes camping with her friends out in the woods, some shit happens, and she meets what’s basically grounder Clarke, with a twist. This fic is so captivating, I loved it

You’re safe with me by I_am_clexa (WIP)

ABO modern AU where omegas are sold as slaves to alphas. Clarke is an omega who is bought by Lexa’s father as a gift to her, but Lexa doesn’t like the way omegas are treated and goes out of her way to give Clarke the best life she could possibly have

Other Pairings

Canon AU

Three Loves (Pieces Of Us) by @kendrene , @bae-in-maine (WIP)

Clarke/Lexa/Anya fic where Anya takes Clarke back to Lexa as a kind of prize, Clarke ends up making an alliance with the Trikru and maybe also falling in love with the commander and her general along the way. I’ve read this fic so many times, but it hasn’t been updated in years. It’s still 150k worth of amazing fic though

Twisted Steel by Steelehart (complete)

A clarke/raven fic where an explosion on the Ark leaves Clarke with two prosthetic arms. Follows fairly closely to the s1 plot once you get into it, but deviates in the later chapters. It’s an amazing fic I promise, please read it

Modern AU

and four makes home by @dreamsheartstory (complete)

This is over 300k worth of Clarke/Lexa/Octavia/Raven, which seems like a lot but I promise you it’s perfect. It’s been a bit since I read this, but from what I remember it’s your typical fall-in-love modern fic, just with the added angst of figuring out a four-way poly relationship